African Style

So "Yesterday" didn't end up with an Oscar for Best Foreign Language Film, but I'm a bit disappointed that Leleti Khumalo's outfit didn't seem to make it to anything online either! Yeah, I'm that shallow.

I've been googling away to find a picture - any picture - of her red carpet appearance, after seeing The Dress highlighted on a magazine programme last week. Nothing. Not a single photo. Even though her dress was probably the most spectacular and roots-relevant of anyone's. And all I can come up with are these meager pics.

It was created by a South African designer and features all things African, including a good few porcupine quills and some Zulu beading. I would have thought that might have attracted a few cameras at the Oscars, but apparently they were focused on the well-known, the recognizable, the run-of-the-mill designer clothes. And poor Leleti missed out, on both the Oscar and the spotlight.

Pity...

::update::
FINALLY found a pic of the front of the dress - but still no red-carpet ones...

Single Parenting is EASY!

Yes, it really is! Or maybe I'm the exception to the rule?

Sure, there are those who have it rough - messy divorces, custody battles, spurned by society for bearing a child out of wedlock. I've had none of those.

Then there are those who struggle financially - maintenance payments don't make it home, childcare eats into savings, children gnaw you out of house and home. But not me. OK, so there's only one small-enough salary to work with, but we manage. Don't get maintenance, don't want it. The kid eats a lot, but heck - he's growing. We do OK on the cash I bring in, and I've been known to make numerous plans when cash starts getting low (like selling home-baked things to hungry students). We haven't starved yet. We can cut corners for just 2 people that we couldn't for more.

It would be nice for my son to have a dad around, but he's doing fine without (so far - watch for him on DrPhil in about 20 years...!). We've got a good thing going in our 2-person family. We don't operate like a two-parent family, but then again there's no other parent to argue with over child-rearing matters. Our life ebbs and flows - sometimes busy, sometimes quiet. There's no spanking or shouting - we just know the boundaries and they're basically adhered too. Although I'm not as strict as most. We're pretty chilled.

Someone once told me I should write a book about single parenting - but I don't have anything to say! Nothing exciting's happened, no huge challenges, no working through major issues. We just get on with life and live. Nothing to write home about, nothing to publish.

Yup, single parenting is pretty easy. Then again, we haven't hit the teen years yet...

Judge Not

I'm finding myself less and less inclined to judge these days. But wait, I'm getting ahead of myself. Let me first tell you why.

When I first stepped back from the church I was brought up in and forward into another, I had my eyes opened. I learnt a lot about other Christians, and that thinking someone is "wrong", that you have the "truth", is not necessarily right! I discovered that God's church is wider and deeper and more complicated than I ever imagined. And that I had a lot still to learn.

When I stopped attending both churches and started looking around me at ordinary everyday folk, I found God in many more places than I'd imagined. I found him in pagans, in athiests, in street kids, in people I had the right to hate. I learnt that He shows up in unexpected places (in the words of Narnia, "He's not a tame lion!"), and sometimes doesn't show up where you'd expect Him to be, like the Sunday service.

Seeing this, knowing this, I don't feel I have the right to judge people. I don't know what's going on in their heads, their hearts, their souls. I don't have the right to condemn their actions, their choices, their journeys. And I sure as heck can't judge their views (blogging taught me that, thanks!).

It makes me a non-witnesser of sorts. I can't go bash someone over the head with my interpretation of God, the Bible and religion anymore. I'm not even going to try! Fire and brimstone evangelism? No thanks. Door-to-door knocking? Not me. Stand on the street corner and proclaim a message? You wouldn't catch me dead doing it! Just live, follow and trust that it's enough? Yup, that's what you'll find me doing.

So go on - follow your journey, wherever it leads you, whatever form it takes. You ain't going to get no judgement from this corner.

We Caved

Our 20 year old TV conked at the beginning of the year, and we've been making do with one my dad bought about 15 years ago, but whose tube has gone slowly darker and darker - until we can barely see a blessed thing!

So, sitting in the bath Saturday morning I thought, "Stuff this! We're getting a new TV". You see, I've been hanging on to that we-might-be-moving thing, and not daring to replace anything that breaks etc. But we might NOT be moving any time soon, or ever, and I'm tired of living like that.

Yesterday we trotted on down to the mall, knowing that we were about to spend more money on one item than I've spent on anything other than my car - and that buying a TV precludes random trips to the Spur for lunch, spending of whatever's in the wallet and such. We're on strict rations for the rest of this month! But it's not a problem - we're stocked up on food and petrol, so won't starve or get stranded anywhere. Just hope there's no major emergencies requiring large amounts of cash....

We ended up with a Logik 54cm PureFlat TV. I'd carefully measured the gap in our wall unit, making sure that what we bought would fit - unlike my brother, who got a huge TV and then had to replace the wall unit because it was too big! :)

What a pleasure it is to have a set that doesn't randomly jump channels (we ended up tuning the old one's channels to the video machine so if it jumped it would end up on whatever channel we were watching via that!), that doesn't have a "tube about to go" line across the screen, and that is light enough to actually see what's on the screen! The flat screen is a pleasure. We don't get reflections from other windows/doors in the room. And it comes with a 5-year guarantee, which is a very good thing.

Of course, the best part of the new TV was the box it came in... Give a kid a box, and watch them have hours and hours of fun. My son put himself in it, put the dog in it (who wasn't amused), put a couple of friends in it, used it as a table for his supper, scooted it across the carpet (while sitting inside). 101 uses for a box!

Shabbat Shalom

Seasons Turn

There are a mere 3 days of summer left, officially. Can it be over already? It seems it never really got off the ground. Winter was long and cold, and held on well past its expiry date. The expected heat lasted a few weeks, and the wind (oh the wind!) blew almost constantly. I haven't even been to the beach yet!

But I have to admit I like autumn, and spring. Those inbetweentimes, not freezing in winter, not boiling in summer.

The days are sometimes misty, there's a chill in the air - and green on the ground, whether from winter rain or the first showers of autumn. Flowers - either spring newness or the last of the summer - grace the landscape. Mornings are chilly, nights cool. There's fog, and awesome sunsets. It's a quiet time - the world is either waking up or settling in for hibernation.

It feels like I am too. It's harder to get up in the mornings as the days become shorter. I can no longer guage the time by the light outside the window. I want to snuggle up in bed more, make warm hearty foods.

I find myself noting the first red-tinged leaves, the increase in morning dew, the birds gathering in groups to move on to warmer climes. The garden is still producing tomatoes and other summer veggies, but it's time to plant winter crops and spring bulbs.

On my way home from work I've started taking a photo of my mountain from exactly the same place, at exactly the same time, every day. I'll compile them into a change-of-seasons "movie" soon, the light changing as the days shorten - sometimes covered in cloud, sometimes glowing in afternoon light.

Last night a cold front hovered over the sea. Half an hour later fog and rain took over, the campus lights sending shards of brilliance through the heart of the drifting mist. My son and I hung out on the verandah in the dripping silence, just watching the light and the rain.

It's called soul-bathing.

Hair Removal Made Easy

If you've ever attempted waxing anything, you'll understand this one! (swiped off menopausal bi-polar witch babbling - who swiped it from someone else - in its entirety, as her posts don't have permalinks)

HAIR REMOVAL MADE EASY
All methods have tricked me with their promises of easy, painless removal - the Epilady, the standard razor, the scissors, the Nair, the EpilStop, and now... The Wax.

My night began as any other normal weekday night. I came home from work, fixed dinner for my son and we played for a while. I then had the thought that would ring painfully in my mind for the next couple hours: maybe I should use that wax in my medicine cabinet. I set up my boy with a video and headed to the site of my demise, um, I mean bathroom.

It was one of those cold wax kits. No melting a clump of hot wax, you just rub the clear strips in your hand, peel them apart, press it on your leg (or wherever) and ignore the frantically rising crescendo of string instruments in the background. No muss, no fuss. How hard can this be? I mean, I'm not the girly-est of girls but I'm mechanically inclined so maybe I can figure out how this works. You'd think.

So I pull one of the thin strips out. It's two strips facing each other, stuck together. I'm supposed to rub it in my hand to warm and soften the wax (I'm guessing). I go one better: I pull out the hair dryer! And heat the SOB to ten thousand degrees. Cold wax, my ass. (Oh, how that phrase will come back to haunt me.)

I lay the strip across my thigh. I hold the skin around it and pull. OK, so it wasn't the best feeling in the world, but it wasn't bad. I can do this! Hair removal no longer eludes me! I am Sheera, fighter of all wayward body hair and smooth skin extraordinaire!

With my next wax strip, I move north. After checking on the boy and verifying that he was, in fact, becoming one with Bear and learning all about smells, I sneak into the bathroom for The Ultimate Hair Fighting Championship. I drop my panties and place one foot on the toilet. Using the same procedure, I then apply the wax strip across the right side on my bikini line, covering the right half of my vagina and stretching up into the inside of the right ass cheek. (Yeah, it was a long strip.)

I inhale deeply. I brace myself.

RRRIIIIPPP!!!!

I'm blind! Blind from the pain!... Vision returning. Oh crap. I've managed to pull off half an inch of the strip. Another deep breath. And... RRRIIIPP! Everything is swirly and tie-dyed? Do I hear crashing drums? OK, coming back to normal again. I want to see my trophy - my wax covered pelt that caused me so much agony. I want to revel in the glory that is my triumph over body hair. I hold the wax strip like an Olympic gold medallist. But why is there no hair on it? Why is the wax mostly gone? Where could the wax go, if not on the strip?

Slowly, I eased my head down, my foot still perched on the toilet. I see hair - the hair that should be on the strip. I touch. I feel. I am touching wax. I look to the ceiling and silently shout "nooooooo!!" And realize I have just begun living my own personal version of "The Tar Baby."

I peel my fingers off the softest, most sensitive part of my body that is now covered in cold wax and matted hair, and make the next big mistake - up until this point, you'll remember, I've had my foot on the toilet. I know I need to move, to do something. So I put my foot down on the floor. And then I hear the slamming of the cell door. Vagina? Sealed shut. Ass? Sealed shut.

A little voice in my head says, "I hope you don't have to shit anytime soon. Your head just might pop off." I penguin walk around the bathroom trying desperately to figure out what I should do next. Hot water! Hot water melts wax! I'll run the hottest water I can stand and get in - the wax should melt and I can gently wipe it a way, right? Wrong!

I get in the tub - the water is slightly hotter than is used to torture prisoners of war or sterilize surgical equipment. And I sit. Now the only thing worse than having your goodies glued together is having them glued together and then glued to the bottom of a tub. In scalding hot water. Which, by the way, does not melt the cold wax. So now I'm stuck to the tub.

I call my friend, C, because she once dropped out of beauty school so surely she has some secret knowledge or trick to get wax off skin. It's never good to start a conversation with "So my ass and vagina are stuck to the tub."

She doesn't have a trick. She does her best to suppress laughter. She wants to know exactly where the wax is on the ass. "Are we talking cheek or hole, here?" she asks. She isn't even trying to hide the giggles now. I give her the run-down of the entire night. She tells me to call the number on the side of the box, but to have a good cover story for where the wax actually is. "You know that if we were working the help line at XX Wax Co. and somebody called with their entire crack sealed shut, we'd just put them on hold then record the conversation for everyone we know. You're going to end up on a radio show or the internet if you tell them the truth.

While we go through various solutions, I have resorted to scraping the wax off with a razor. Boy, nothing feels better to the girly goodies than covering them in wax, sticking them to a tub in super hot water and THEN dry shaving the sticky wax off!

In the middle of the conversation (which has inexplicably turned to other subjects!) I find the little, beautiful saving grace that is the lotion provided with wax to remove the excess. I rub some in and start screaming, "It's working! It's working!" I get hearty congratulations from C and we hang up.

I successfully remove all the wax and notice, to my dismay, that the hair is still there. So I shaved the damned stuff off. Hell, I was numb by that point anyway. And then I put the box of wax back in my medicine cabinet. Never know when a moustache might start to come in.

Tonight, I attempt hair dying.

Unlucky Friday

I had one of those weird dreams again last night, the ones that seem completely and utterly real and logical in the middle of the night. But on waking you find them wacky and way-off!

Call it unlucky Friday.

You see, we're closing early today, and that started off my dream. My son's school is just up the road, so I went off to meet him before he had his detention time. He then refused to have a bath (what the?), and the car that I'd parked on the hill started moving without me. Fortunately someone stopped it before it slammed into the boy's dorm. As I got into it to drive home, the entire front corner of the admin building (where I work) caved in. Thankfully, for some reason I had my work computer with me (I hadn't backed it up to the server in a while, so a collapsing building would basically destroy months of work - and yes, I haven't actually backed it up as it is!), so all that mattered in my office was safe - even though the office was now sitting at an angle, with its contents piled against the front wall. On my way home, I was stopped by a fallen tree across the road, too large to clear, too many bits of branches everywhere. So I had to walk home. Only to find my home computer was stuffed (it is, basically). And one of our student's wives had lost her little boy tragically (don't know how, but suspect drowning in the college pool). And the students (currently in 4 busses on their way to camp) had been wiped out in a crash - or was it just one of those busses?

And then some strange bird I've never heard before, but which possesses a voice like the archangel's trumpet, shouted twice as it passed my window, waking me up and sparing me any more disasters!

You'd think today was Friday the 13th, the way the dream played out! But it's not. It's payday, and an early-ending work day, and the weekend, and pizza day, and all sorts of good things. But that didn't seem to penetrate to the deep dark dream recesses of my mind...

People Watching

I have a confession to make. Sometimes I just sit and watch people. I know I'm not alone. I could amuse myself all day sitting in a busy people-area, watching people.

But when I can't watch people I hear people. Here at work it's pretty interesting, not to eavesdrop, but just to hear.

Like the guy who has his computer speakers on extra loud, whose computer has announced with that inevitable series of notes that WINDOWS HAS STARTED. He also has a funny ringtone on his phone - sort of a high-pitched tringging that drives me nuts.

My closest colleague (in proximity) has a constant stream of students in and out her office. There's one guy who drops by, who has the strangest, most irritating laugh I've ever heard. And with walls this thin you can't miss it. She seems to travel in a pack with her attendant students. When she worked switchboard the other day, they went along too and cluttered up the office with bodies. There's a regular babble of chatter from behind her door.

The lady next to her is into Carpenters and Kirk Darren (don't ask, you don't want us importing him from South Africa) music. Unfortunately she enjoys it at such a volume that the rest of us are left with irritating snatches of the regular tunes in our heads well after office-hours. She's the type who receives hundreds of "pass it on" emails with dodgy attachments each day, and is responsible for more email viruses here than anyone else.

Her boss seems to have his cellphone permaglued to his ear. I have yet to see him without it. I have no idea who he talks to all the time.

The mega-boss's secretary is harrassed, overworked (never leaves before 8 in the evening, and never gets all her work done - but can't say no to a job), constantly rushing here and there in her correct work attire. The rest of us pitch up in jeans on Fridays (or other days), only giving a passing nod to dress code.

My neighbour on campus calls me constantly, asking how to do this in Word, or format that in PowerPoint. You'd swear I'm the local expert. But all I know I learnt by fiddling. She sees my parents has some of her dearest friends, and has semi-adopted us as her kid/grandkid. But occasionally she gets on everyone's nerves. She comes with a loud, old-lady-tremble voice, and often talks first, thinks later.

The mega-boss is a stroller. He can be seen walking slowly by, as if contemplating the bigger problems the world has to offer. He tries to please a lot of people, but doesn't always get it right. He's a bit on the frail side after a recent tumour operation, but a nice enough guy nonetheless.

Our students - why, there's a whole year's worth of people watching in the passing crowd! There's the many Botswana folk, with their particular culture. The weird Afrikaans guy who stood up at orientation (before the managers could get to the microphone) and berated a bunch of newly-arrived girls on the length of their skirts. He had barely been here a day himself... The quiet Chinese girl, whom you're never sure understands what you're saying or not. The robust, rosy-cheeked Irish girl, a bad case of stuttering not preventing her from living life to the full. The shady guy who reminds me a bit too much of his uncle - another under-boss whom I DID NOT get along with for years. Two years ago I decided if he wasn't leaving, I would - fortunately he went first. The over-friendly Ukrainian, skinny, four-eyed, scary - and here to find a wife as a side-order to his studies.

I'm often amazed, while people-watching, at how many varieties we come in. Tall, short, thick (brain wise and otherwise) and thin, dark and light, ugly and beautiful. I sometimes wonder what attracts couples to each other. Whether the passing humans are happy or sad. What their stories are. What they're thinking. I wonder if they're loved, if they're passionate about life, what makes them tick.

Perhaps I have altogether too much time on my hands, after all.

Mind-Trip

Bored? Then go check THIS out! An infinitely-zoomable collaborative art project. Awesome stuff, off to go download the screensaver now.

Random Ants

My office is overrun with random ants. You know the type - they wander here and there, exploring feet and papers and the telephone. No long line of little black bodies - just random ants.

I don't know what they're after. There are some that seem to be sipping water from the base of the plants on the windowsill. Perhaps they're thirsty. There are others looking under the keyboard - not many, just one every now and then, that gets up my sleeve or inside my pants-leg and makes me haul it out, semi-dead. I suspect some are dropping off the ceiling, as I just found one on my shoulder!

The only solution would appear to be a layer of insect spray on every surface and under every piece of office furniture. But that could lead to gagging of the worst variety on the fumes...

For now I've resorted to flicking them as far as they'll go with my nail - leaving a smudge of scraped-off nailpolish in their wake.

Mom Update

Thanks for your continuing prayers for my mom. She had her first chemo dose yesterday, through a "permanent" port inserted in her chest by surgery last week. It was very painful, as the area is still swollen from the op.

But last weekend she took her chalk-art to a health centre and gained some valuable info on the use of charcoal and mud packs to help the liver cope and reduce toxins in her body. She's looking at all the options available to help.

Still no definite prognosis, but we're hoping.

Random Thoughts on a potential Quick Move

Moving continents is an ideal chance to re-invent yourself. You're going to meet people who have no history with you, so you can make yourself into whomever you want! That's both a good and a bad thing...

First impressions count. And I need to lose weight. I also need to get my health sorted out - not too well today, and not sure how long I'll be here, but it's becoming a regular thing to fall ill lately.

What the heck am I going to do with my dogs? I wouldn't give them to just anyone. They're sensitive souls and need just the RIGHT home. Perhaps Didi's breeder can help find a schipperke-friendly family for each of them. And Sid needs snipping... The fish I can find a home for without a problem. Perhaps even at my brother's place. Little Ethan is fascinated by it!

Same thing with the garden. Rose bushes will go to the campus rose beds, but I hope whomever takes over my place leaves the white mulberry tree alone. They're not a common occurance.

It's a struggle to think about selling just about everything. It's going to be hard to do so. But there are things that I will not sell - like the piano, many of my books, my son's toys (most of them, anyway), and a couple of sentimental goodies. I also need to buy a few things - I want to take an African drum, marimba and kalimba or two (finger-"piano") with me if we go. I want to get those anyway, so they're good investments.

It's a good thing I haven't splurged on anything. But there's some financial sorting out to do before we can go anywhere.

Am I really going to survive Australia? As a foreigner? As a person? As a South African?

My son's schooling is a big issue. I'd like him to attend a Christian school in Australia, but realize how costly that can be. Balance - how to find balance? Is he going to fit in OK, grade-wise and friend-wise? I know he'll enjoy being near his grandparents, but he's going to miss his life here - his uncles, his friends, his dogs, his lifestyle. Will this be a good or a bad thing for him?

I wonder how much official notice I'd have to give here... better check it out and get it in writing. I think it's a month, but they may make an exception.

I've got to get that work website finished - NOW. Need to write up my job's "book of how to do things" too, to help whomever might get this position after I'm gone. I'm not the type just to disappear and let the next person figure it out for themselves - like I had to when I arrived here. It would be helpful if I wrote out that missing job description too...

I wonder if I'm getting in a tizz for nothing. After all, this is all dependant on getting a job offer, and I'm not sure there will be anything available for a while yet. But better prepared than not, I guess.

I need to hold a massive garage sale - move or not. There's just way too much stuff up there. (the garage is up a hill from the house) It could be turned into cash instead of just lying around. A lot of cash.

OK, random thoughts over. On to other things.

The Cape Town UFO

Last night's local news ran a story on a possible UFO sighting over Cape Town - with video footage! (of course they made us wait until the end of the news to report it, after headlining it at the beginning...)

Seems this couple was coming over a mountain pass toward Cape Town at around 3 in the morning, and spotted a large red flattened disk hovering over the city lights. It seemed to glow and pulsate, then suddenly disappeared! Thankfully they had a video camera with them and captured the whole event on tape.

Back in Cape Town they took it to experts, who solemnly proclaimed it to be... - moonset. They'd caught the moon through a couple of layers of pollution over the city, just as it touched the horizon (or was half-gone), which made it seem odd-shaped and red. Light waves made it move slightly, and it's disappearance was caused by it setting completely!

Ah well, it was a nice bit of excitement while it lasted. And no, they weren't drunk.

News

Good morning, and here is the news. Headlining today is yet another twist in the Australian saga...

My dad just emailed me with BIG news that the denomination he works for is willing to try sponsor me to move to Australia, as they've now been registered as a sponsoring organization - and that if they do so, the visa could take a mere TWO DAYS. If that isn't the scariest thing I've heard in a while I'll eat my keyboard...!

It seems they've made contact with a migration official who is willing to look over my CV, see if I have a "strong" one, and then find a way to get me there. In addition, one of the denomination's offices is looking to include me in a project, using my "special skills" (ie I'm qualified in a range of completely different areas!) as sponsorship basis.

Shucks, this is hectic! I mean, we were trying to move and all, but after the recent dissapointments we're back on that roller-coaster ride of "just maybe".

I honestly don't know what to think, whether to get my hopes up or not. I've gotten them up in the past and had them dashed, and it's getting harder to get them up again.

So today I'll be emailing off my CV, and then waiting...

That was this morning's news bulletin. Thank you for tuning in and have a good day!

(Weather is up next - or not)

Mental Filing Cabinet

In my quest to burn a few lekker CD's (you should be getting to know that word by now! :) ), I've had some sort of memory plough turning over a lot of ancient memories.

For instance, I was looking for a song but could only remember the guitar bit for it, until I remembered a single snatch of a phrase - and found it was Gary Moore's "Still got the blues for you". Well, it's now downloaded and playing. And you know what, I can suddenly remember EVERY SINGLE WORD of the song! And it's still a way-cool song. (Sometime soon I'll list all the songs I've managed to find in the past month, when I've got seriously nothing else to blog about)

Makes me wonder what else is nicely filed away in that brain of mine. Songs alone - there must be thousands of the things! Every song I've ever known, or heard often, or sung. From "Grandmother's feather bed" and the Black & White Minstrels to the Chipmunks, praise & worship and hymns, radio rock, classical. Geez, that's a hell of a lot of songs!

Then there's the books I've read, and re-read. The stuff my eyes have absorbed off the internet, or passing road-signs. All those old letters I not only wrote but received. And the blogs - oh the blogs! A wealth of words there alone!

There's pictures. Some I wish I could forget. Like abused kids and beasts, a good few news stories, and (sad to say) one or two pr0n pics glanced at in passing and now ingrained on memory. Others that pop up unbidden at arb times, for no logical reason. Places, people, moments frozen in time, sketches on pages, snapshots of this and that.

Smells. Like the car fumes that made me want to hurl while pregant and still do. Or a certain male cologne that made me want to hurl while pregant, and which still does (and which my boss wears - can't get the smell out my office for hours after one of his fly-by's!). Good smells like baking bread and strong, kind men whose chests I've snuggled against. Rain on dust, fresh-cut grass. Each associated with something or other, filed safely away and hauled out by that mass of "stuff" in my skull, almost on demand.

But there are other things that get seriously misfiled. Like the name of the person you just met, or where you put your keys, or what you saved that important document as. Those are the times that I think my brain has a good laugh, chucking irrelevant information forward, while sitting firmly on the stuff I'm looking for.

Yet still, sometimes I'm just amazed at what's contained in a few kilo's of grey matter.

Fed Up

I changed clothes 4 times this morning before finally settling on an outfit that didn't make me look extra-wide (from the front, that is. I shudder to think what the rear view is like!). Granted, I can at least fit into my work pants - after Christmas I couldn't even get them on. So there has been improvement, to the tune of around 3kg or so. But still I'm fed up. I hate feeling uncomfortable. I'd like to feel attractive again, and get rid of those darned 20kg I picked up when I sat down at a desk job 10 years ago. Ok, so starting out I may have been a bit on the skinny side, but still. You try carrying a 20kg bag of potatoes around everywhere you go!

I've been told that an injection I've been on for years may be implicated. But I lost weight while on it previously. So I can't blame it. Unfortunately.

Perhaps I'm too fed up - literally. Not that I eat a lot. But I'm eating the wrong things. Like the piece of homemade fudge I'm currently snacking on. Not good! But on the very irrisistable side, I'm afraid.

I'm vegetarian, I know what I should be eating, I know how many servings of fresh foods I'm to get each day. And yet I'm in a major food rut. We live on pasta with tomato sauce and cheese, a few veg here and there (can't get green anything into the kid), and bread! My picky pre-teen is a pain when it comes to eating properly. Serve him a nicely balanced meal, and he'll eat up the potatoes, the protein - and then say he's too full for the veg! But dessert he has room for, and there's nothing to stop him delving into the freezer for ice-cream when I'm at work in the afternoons, and not telling me about it later. Nor snacking on sugary cereals by the handful while parked in front of the TV all holidays.

A talk-show on TV yesterday investigated how one can make huge differences in health, intelligence, concentration etc with a good diet. Supplements of nuts and seeds as snack, no sugar, no chemical additives (like colourants), plenty of fresh goods as near to just-harvested as possible etc. I KNOW what I'm supposed to be doing, what WE'RE supposed to be doing, but can't seem to do it. Heck, I have files full of info on what we should be doing, but that's where it stays.

On my limited salary we tend to go for things that cost little and last long - fruit and veg end up vrot (another good Afrikaans word for rotten, pronounced almost like "fraut") in the fridge if not used quickly, and although we buy them we sometimes neglect them until it's too late. The only thing we're eating a lot of is tomatoes - the garden is way, way overrun with them right now! (Anyone near Somerset West want a delivery of guaranteed-organic Roma tomatoes???)

Last night I fried up an onion in olive oil, a few cloves of garlic, a green pepper and TEN home-grown tomatoes, added olives and feta cheese and had that for supper with a slab of home-made focaccia. But could I get my son to touch it? No. He dug out leftover macaroni from lunch and ate that instead!

It's a big dilemma. I remember how it felt to be thin, fit and healthy. I want it back. I don't want to be embarrassed when I go try on new clothes to find that all my leg-lumps have shadows in the overhead lighting. I want to feel attractive again, and get noticed by those good-looking guys that frequent the mall, instead of averting my eyes and hoping they don't see me.

I know I need more exercise, and that the dogs would love a daily walk. I just can't seem to do it though. Especially with the sun getting up later and going to bed earlier as winter approaches. After work I'm exhausted, before work it's a rush to get going. And I need my sleep - extra-early mornings are not my thing.

I've even considered a one-month trial run of those "miracle" weight loss pills just to get going, but have heard they could completely and permanently wreck my health.

So I'm fed up. And ranting (where better to do it than on my blog?). And trying to work out what's stopping me from sorting my life out. Laziness? A sense that it's not going to work, so why try? Fear? Dunno. Something's gotta change, that's all.

::update::
I think I may have found a partial solution to the veggie/fruit problem. There was an ad in our local paper this weekend for a company that calls itself Gaia Organica (email link), and who does a weekly deliver of fresh organic seasonal produce to your home, directly from local farmers, for a very, very reasonable fee. They also deliver in the Cape Town area, so seem to have a good thing going.

Paying and getting fresh will motivate us to eat the stuff before the next box arrives, and find creative things to do with items we wouldn't normally buy. For instance, in the seller's words:

..."this week's R50 “basic pack” and an R80 “value pack” both have a variety of fruit and vegetables. The basic pack has about 6 items in it. This week’s basic pack as an example has a bunch of carrots, a lettuce pack, a couple of peppers, a kilo of sweet potatoes, a punnet of plums and a kilo of pears. The Value pack has the same as above, but with an added pack of apples, extra aubergene, spring onion, tomato, bunch of spinach and butternuts."

That's pretty good value for money!

I've offered to advertise on campus for them - think they'll give me a discount? :)

Shopping in Africa

Shopping in Africa is like shopping nowhere else. On Friday afternoon my son and I were lunching at our favourite place (the Spur), and half-way through the meal a huge racket started up nearby. Sounded like either the roof was falling in (over a couple of minutes) or the sum total of all African tribes in the area had turned up with their drums.

Well, it was neither, but rather a small group of African male dancers/drummers that were there to entertain shoppers in the climbing-wall section!

Right after lunch we popped over to see what all the noise was about, and found these gentlemen, gum-boot-dancing away and singing. They had a couple of traditional drums with them, along with a big bass one and a cymbal.

I have to admit, once they get going with the rhythm, it seeps deep into your soul, and you'd find even a staid white woman like me tapping her feet and wanting to get up and dance. .One little girl had no trouble acting on those impulses, much to the amusement of both her parents and the rest of the audience.

But don't we just have the best mall-view in the world? This large window was right behind the dancers, and overlooks the curve of mountains that shadow our bay, including the rounded one I call home.

Yup, there's nothing like shopping in Africa. You never know what you'll encounter!

The Magic Box of Lies

To amuse ourselves one day, a friend and I hit upon The Magic Box of Lies game. We'd ask a random question, then switch on the radio for a few seconds - and see what it answered! Got a good few laughs out of that one. Yeah, we were REALLY bored...

My son and I do something similar with the TV. We make sentances by switching channels, and end up with some pretty funny stuff. Start off on one channel with the beginning of a sentance, then switch quickly to another station to complete it.

And then there's Google. Most of my blog hits are courtesy of Google. Some of them are rather amusing.

Take yesterday's hits, for example. One search that landed here (somehow!) was "for better or for worse is about", and directly after that there was a search for "downloadable false marriage certificates"! Hmmm.... I have to wonder if they're connected.

Google, the all-knowing Magic Box of Lies.

Quirks

I have too many boxes. I can never resist a good, empty cardboard box. I take it home "just in case", and stick it in the garage, or fill it with stuff that ends up in the garage (yes, I have a shortage of storage in my house). I think it's an inherited tendancy from Great Aunt Geraldine, who was a complete and utter pack-rat. When she died it was a mission to clear out her place!

I insist that the toilet paper rolls over the top, not under the bottom.

I can't leave work without my desk being clear and my computer properly shut down. Even if means that all my work is just in one pile.

I tend to straighten things to line up - pot-plants, pens, papers, ornaments, chairs, you name it.

If precisely the needed number of sweetener tablets falls out of the container for my morning coffee, I assume it's going to be a good day. If I get more or less than required, it's not. (Some people read tea-leaves, I read sweetener! :) )

I hate it when a loaf of bread is cut skew. Or there's jam in the peanut-butter, or marmite in the butter, or spreads left on the knife.

I can't understand a lack of logical thinking in others.

I drift down long hills in neutral when driving to conserve petrol (or so I think). I listen to the car for strange noises, am alert to strange smells, and feel for strange wobbles constantly, yet not conciously.

I stack washed dishes to dry in a specific order - big plates at the back, bowls all together, cups by size, cutlery by type. I fit a lot into the rack and it makes packing away easier.

I'm a stickler for doing things right - MY right way of course. Like making sure the copies you're doing are DONE - and not walking away to leave them to their own devices, to get stuck or run out of paper or something. (And I keep an ear tuned to machine-noise clues too, which enables me to jump up and fix a problem as it's happening, much to the amazement of some.) Like spreading bread to the edges of the slice instead of slapping butter and stuff randomly. Like stapling papers at a 45 degree angle in the corner, not straight across the top of the page. Like filling a coffee mug to precisely the right level. Like hanging a towel straight to dry instead of throwing it over the rail with folds and lumps. Like parking precisely between the lines, straight and not at an angle.

No wonder I'm not married already! :)

Monday blogless

You may wonder why I have not had my notorious Monday-mega-post-attack, flooding cyberspace with post-weekend mind-drivel.

Well, wonder no more!

The "you all do reception duty because we don't feel like hiring a replacement for the woman who quit" schedule has kicked in, which meant the morning was spent answering phones and directing traffic. I also made myself useful and re-did the entire postbox list - finally aligning it to the labels actually on each postbox, and deleting owners who moved on years ago. Blessed be me!

But thanks to that little 4-hour stint, I have yet to get going on my ACTUAL work here (like that darned website that STILL isn't live, the non-existant yearbook publication, my course manual and other stuff), and Monday's nearly over!

So - here, have a work-related quote while I go do something useful:

It always does seem to me that I am doing more work than I should do. It is not that I object to the work, mind you; I like work: it fascinates me. I can sit and look at it for hours. I love to keep it by me: the idea of getting rid of it nearly breaks my heart.

You cannot give me too much work; to accumulate work has almost become a passion with me: my study is so full of it now, that there is hardly an inch of room for any more. I shall have to throw out a wing soon.

And I am careful of my work, too. Why, some of the work that I have by me now has been in my possession for years and years, and there isn't a finger-mark on it. I take a great pride in my work; I take it down now and then and dust it. No man keeps his work in a better state of preservation than I do.

But, though I crave for work, I still like to be fair. I do not ask for more than my proper share.

But I get it without asking for it--at least, so it appears to me--and this worries me.

George says he does not think I need trouble myself on the subject. He thinks it is only my over-scrupulous nature that makes me fear I am having more than my due; and that, as a matter of fact, I don't have half as much as I ought. But I expect he only says this to comfort me.

- from "Three Men in a Boat (to say nothing of the Dog)" by Jerome K Jerome. One of my all-time favourite reads, and available to read online.

Shabbat Shalom

Early morning wispy mist. Just-sunrise. Only me and the birds waking up outside. Peace, quiet, soul-quench.

Shabbat Shalom.

Getting into Community

Up here on our hill, hidden behind the campus security gates, one can live in a cloistered little ingrown community forever. Literally. We have a pre-school, primary school, high school, college, 3 churches - and a gravyard. You can be born and die here, with only a weekly foray into the wider world for groceries.

Pretty stifling at times. Especially if you're "somewhat different" from everyone else, like I am.

I've been thinking of ways my son and I can get into the rest of the community, connect with others, make friends, expand our horizons (though the view from my little flat stretches horizon to horizon).

First step - buy the local newspaper. I'm not one to buy it every week, but it's a good community paper, with loads of info on what the community issues are, what's going on, who's done what and who's planning what. So yesterday I spent a good deal of time going through the articles, ads and smalls.

Second step - get out of our rut. Namely, find something to join instead of just sitting home in front of the box every night. Find places to go instead of just sitting home every weekend.

With that in mind I'm making enquiries about pottery and art classes, thinking of dance lessons, and planning a trip to a grape-treading festival in a nearby town soon. I'm trying to re-connect with old friends outside this closed community who I've lost contact with. I'm hoping to join a fun walk (with dogs and kid) in aid of a local charity. I'm considering picking up litter around a well-loved river (unasked and unorganized officially). I want to find out more about what people are doing for people just down the road, and see if I can help. I'm trying to be more "out there" and less "in here".

And I'm starting to feel a growing excitement at the possibilities! This is going to be way, way cool.

There has to be a better way...

My son has been kept in at breaktime to finish class work at school every day this week. Last night homework took until 10:40, at which point we were both totally exhausted. He has been threatened with detention if he doesn't write down his homework (even though it may not be written down, he does it and I sign the blank page daily). If he persists in not writing down homework he faces possible suspension.

My son is in grade 6.

And I'm wondering if this is the best the school system can do for him.

In grade 2, his teacher came to me and requested (no, make that basically ordered!) that I put him on Ritalin. Not because he is ADD/ADHD, but because he learnt differently from the other kids (creative, easily bored, intelligent) and she wasn't willing to change the teaching methods she's used for the past 40 years at that school to accommodate his needs. She wanted to "medicate him into line". I flat out refused, and from then on she had it in for me. Things went downhill fast during that year as far as his learning went. In grade 3 he started to cope, but still struggled with doing things in the given time, and his handwriting was awful. Grade 4, slight improvement. Grade 5, better. Grade 6 is looking to be the best year so far - or it was.

His learning methods have improved, but still he's not a good fit for the teaching style. The classes are small (less than 30 students per class, if possible), but the teachers spend a lot of time running after students to sit still, shut up, work hard. The fact that boys need a physical get-up-and-move break every hour or so is not considered. The fact that boys learn differently to girls never crosses their minds. The fact that keeping a boy in at break instead of giving him a chance to breathe free and move his limbs for a better post-break performance doesn't get a thought.

I'm pretty peeved with the whole system at the moment. It kinda follows on my "Narnia" post last week. The whole learning thing as performed and accepted by the all-knowing Education Department is just so unnatural! It stuffs kids into an uncomfortable uniform, binds up their feet in clumpy hard school shoes and makes them sit in enclosed, artificially lit rooms for at least 12 years. What a contrast to the free days up to age 6! (Unless of course your kid was stuck into a preschool at an earlier age and it's all they know. Mine wasn't. Could't afford it.)

Over these few holiday days I read a story of crofters in the 1800's, living on a wind-swept island off Scotland, fighting for life and land and a chance to live as they wished. It was an existance that was hard, yet the clan was bound as an extended family by the work they did, the kids they raised together, the hearthstone they gathered around each night. Children were part of the community, and were raised as such with responsibility and practical training toward adulthood. Sure, they missed out on the "gentry" ways, but it didn't stop them developing into caring and useful members of the society. And those who wished to leave or persue a life different to what they lived were free to do so.

Idealistic perhaps. But there's something inside me that says school doesn't teach the value of hard work, the respect for land and nature and fellow humans, the wisdom of elders, the comfort of community. I know that's up to families to teach - but how can we when our kids are removed from our care for 6+ hours per day, made to be something they're not, put into programmes and activities, punished for things that make no sense, and moulded into little carbon copies of each other?

I'm just frustrated I guess. I don't like what's happening. But I don't know how to change it. There's a part of me that says my son should continue on this path, because if he chooses to go with the societal flow later on he should not be disadvantaged by his mom's weird ideas (and no official high school certificate to base his future on). There's the other part that says set him free and find another way to do this.

Surely there must be a way....

A change and a holiday

I'm back! Anyone miss me? :)

My carpets are clean, and so are the windows, but after a solid first day of cleaning, I decided to actually have a bit of a holiday for the remaining days, so the rest of my over-full agenda fell by the wayside.

It's strange, but those three days off felt like weeks! I was able to fit enough relaxation and doing things I enjoy into them that it's made the world of difference to coming back to work today.

I got to pop in at a local junk shop that's piled high with treasures, and found another 6 Reader's Digest Condensed Books volumes to add to the 99 I already possess - I use them as "bath books", reading for an hour or so every night in a long, deep bath in my ancient tub. Call it "me time". I did some out-of-bath reading too. Yesterday morning I got a kid-free shopping time! It's a big difference from not only being dragged into everything resembling a toy shop, but also from being begged constantly for extra's like cash and sweets. I managed to see the insides of shops I hadn't visited yet (like those hip little boutiques that sell clothes I wouldn't be seen dead in). I stopped off at the fabric shop in town to look at patterns and material. I made fudge (delicious!). I took afternoon naps. I sat out in the sun and enjoyed my garden.

And then I landed running.... right away there were 5 "challenges" lined up and seeking attention. But I'm handling them better today than I would have on Monday, when I was worn out and stressed up from months of constant motion.

Back to the grindstone it is!

Silence is Golden

This blogspace will be rather quiet for the next 3 days. I'm taking time off work in lieu of the many hours worked during my official holiday time, which adds up to 3 whole days!

But no, I won't be lazing around doing nothing. I've asked for the company carpet-cleaning machine, and will be doing all our carpets. In addition, I've made room-by-room lists of everything that needs doing, whether cleaning, sorting, replacing, chucking or whatever. It's quite daunting, but sure to keep me out of mischief! If I can find the cash, I'll get in a company to steam-clean the couches and bed bases/mattresses too.

They say housework is really good exercise. I sincerely hope so. I know moving a piano is no mean task on my own... It's not on castors, so the push/pull and slide thing is how it gets from one place to another. The last time I tried it my back knew about it for ages!

I'm looking forward to having a truly sparkling house by the end of the week. I always feel loads better coming home to a tidy and clean area, and it helps to be organized just in case someone stops by unexpectedly. This coming weekend I'm expecting my brother, his wife and their son (now crawling) to visit, and there's nothing like a kid scooting around on the floor to make one realize what's down there. However, he can move in peace soon.

So that's it. I'll be back on Friday and hope my fingers won't be too stiff to type!

Valentine's Day

So, it's THAT day again, and I know I'm not making anything big of it, but I did just have to say this much:

* My son secretly ordered me a cherry lollipop with a verse and red "I love you" heart on it. He had told me he was going to send it to himself, but came home with it for me! What a wonderful kid I have.

* And then this afternoon a big basket of flowers arrived from my mom! How cool is that! She's the one who should be getting flowers, yet she sends them to me. They're beautiful and colourful and everyone is major jealous.

This evening I want to do something special for my kid. I didn't make or buy him anything, but want to make it a special mom & son night. Perhaps I'll get him a treat too. But if I know anything about kids, undivided attention is worth more than material goods.

Unfortunately we ran out of time this weekend and didn't get those heart-shaped cookies baked to hand out, but I have been putting little notes in postboxes here to show folk we love them. Perhaps next year...

Happy Valentine's Day to all!

Someone I'm not

Woken up at 2:30 this morning by the sound of some outdoor activity going on between the girl's and boy's dorms on campus (I suspect fire drill followed by water-squirtings, as happened in my high school days in the self-same dorm), I struggled to get back to that blissful land of sleep. That, and an extremely sore lower back that's plagued me for days now.

Instead my mind somehow dredged up the past. The nasty past. The horrible past that makes me ill and ashamed.

You wouldn't know the me I was back then. Insecure to the point of running after attention - yet paralyzingly shy at the same time. Confusing love and sex - and being used by way too many guys as a result. Doing stupid, stupid things that should have had me dead by now - like racing a friend down a highway at 3 in the morning, doing over 200km/hr with the car lights off. Like unprotected intimacies. Like abuse of alcohol. Like subtle verbal crushing of those who actually loved me in spite of who I was.

The more my brain went into memory overdrive, the worse I felt about myself. I realized I used to be a totally crappy person, and was amazed that I'd managed to keep any friends at all! I WASN'T amazed at the number of relationships I'd managed to wreck, or at how there are some things inside me that srivelled up and died a long, long time ago.

I feel so completely different now to the person I was then. She's a stranger, and not a very nice one. I'm glad to be rid of her, though I'm still carrying some of her luggage. It's super-glued to my hands and I can't put it down.

But that's not me. Not anymore. I like to think I've grown up and left some of that awfulness behind.

Yet still it sometimes creeps up on me in the dark, reminding me of wreckage left behind...

Shabbat Shalom

Be generous in prosperity and thankful in adversity.
Be fair in thy judgment, and guarded in thy speech.
Be a lamp unto those who walk in darkness, and a home
to the stranger.
Be eyes to the blind, and a guiding light unto the feet of the erring.
Be a breath of life to the body of humankind, a dew upon the soil of the human heart, and a fruit upon the tree of humility.

- The Baha'i Prayer for Peace

Time Flies

News headline this morning said "Former president Nelson Mandela celebrates the 15th anniversary of his release from prison this week."

Geez - has it been 15 years already?

I can remember the run-up to his being released, the poll we voted for under the president before him, the excitement of the nation (and some trepidation) as change snowballed into the New South Africa. But it certainly doesn't seem like 15 years ago!

In many ways we're still getting off the ground as a nation, going through those "birth pains". There are still many (especially of the older generation) that struggle with issues of the past. The younger folk only know the now, the battles of the past are the tales of the elders. In other ways we've been around forever unchanged. Africa is an ancient continent, and the rocks and soil that our feet tread have been here beyond memory.

But there is a positive vibe in this place - an optimism that pervades society. Yeah, we have crime, we have issues, we have more than a few corrupt politicians. Other countries may try to tell us what's wrong with us, but we also see what's right. And many others do too - they keep coming back to this land because there's "something here".

It may have started with Mandela's Long Walk, or it may be the way our citizens just are inherently. No matter what our colour or culture, we've struggled with, against and for this land. It's ingrained under our fingernails and worn into our hearts. We are, collectively, South African. And proud of it.



::update::
A couple of South African blogs I'm currently reading (links don't open in a new window), in random order:
Jo-blog
Kitch'n'Zinc
SoulGardeners
Sub.Soil
AfricanDust
Schroedinger's Cat
The Other Side of the Mountain
Husbands Anon
(and his wife) Me Time
Aquila Online
Coming Down the Mountain
Pom du Cap

Those "lovely" migration officials

Yesterday I sent this by email to the official in charge of my migration application file:

"I have received your letter, dated 25 November 2004, informing me that my
migration visa application has now been pooled for a period of 2 years.

However, this past weekend our family was informed that my mom's cancer
has spread to her liver and 12 other spots since her last scan, and is
most likely terminal within a year (maximum life expectancy 4 years).

Past correspondence with your office indicates that one of the many
reasons we submitted a migration visa application is so that I would be
able to help care for my mother, and support my father, both during her
illness and later in old age (before we knew that old age might not be an
option for my mother). They have no family in Australia other than each
other. The situation is now critical.

Is there a possibility that my migration visa application may be
re-considered on compassionate grounds, so that I can help care for my mom
in her last months/year of life, and then further help my father deal with
his loss and life afterwards, on into retirement years?

Please let me know if this is at all an option. Thank you."

This morning, this was their response:

"Dear Applicant,
In order to be granted visas under Skilled Australian Sponsored category,
the applicants have to meet the requirements and pass the points test.
You may wish to visit our website (http://www.immi.gov.au/index.htm) and
find more information on carers visa.

Please note: Answering emails takes time away from deciding migration
applications. Please be kind enough to limit correspondence to emergencies
or notification of changes in your circumstances.
Enquiries simply for progress report, or emails enquiring whether documents
have been received will generally not be responded to."

Is it that I can't read, that I don't see an actual answer to my question anywhere in that response (though I will check out the carer's visa info)? By the way, this is the selfsame response I received (obviously a "form letter") to another query I made a year ago. The only thing that has changed is the name of the case officer.

I don't even know if I want to try asking about visitor's visas...

::update::
That job offer mentioned last week has fallen through, as they need someone immediately. I guess we know exactly where we stand now! We're meant to stay here, and that's it.

Valentine's Day

So, if you've been hanging around this blog for any amount of time, you'll know all about the fact that I haven't had a date in 8 years - and that I'm actually OK with that! Happily single, don't get lonely, and all that stuff, you know.

Valentine's Day used to be a big thing for me. I'd sit and wonder if I'd get anything from a "secret" admirer, something that might make me feel loved, or admired, or appreciated. My former boss used to bring me flowers or dark chocolate (he's also my god-father), but that stopped years ago when bosses changed. And now Valentine's Day doesn't bother me at all. I don't send stuff, I don't get stuff. It's just another day and I get my fun watching others blush when they receive a card or a bunch of roses.

(However, having recently learnt that a few of our new students are "on the hunt" for wives, I aim to wear my ex-engagement/wedding ring on Monday to ward off advances!!! :) )

But this year I want to do something different. You see, I have a bunch of heart-shaped cookie cutters in my kitchen drawer, and a good few cookie recipes and decoration inspiration. This weekend I'll be roping in my son to do some serious baking, will package up small towers of edible hearts, and go distribute them - preferably anon. I may drop some off at neighbours, or friends, or hand them out to strangers. We'll see.

All I know is that not everyone feels the same way about V-day that I do - that some folk get really lonely when all around them love is spread, yet never touches them. Perhaps I can make their day just a tiny bit better.

Family Cures

I've been very sick over the past day and a bit. It snuck up on me quickly, inducing sneezing, an awfully painful sore throat, thick head and urge to just lie down somewhere quiet. So yesterday afternoon I took off work and did just that. Only it wasn't quiet. This was the one day all my son's acquaintences decided they should become friends - because he knows how to "upgrade" a BeyBlade, and it's suddenly revived itself into the latest fashion among pre-teen boys after a three-year lull. A variety of previously unknown kids dropped by, making the dogs bark at strangers, then battling with their BeyBlades (who can sleep through that? It's almost as bad as somone rummaging in a box of Lego!), going away, returning again - until at about 5:30 I managed to kick them all out to go play elsewhere.

With a still awful throat, supper was stuff that would potentially kill it - ice water, pickles, beetroot in vinegar. Not the wisest choices perhaps, but they were followed by half a pineapple and the juice of an orange.

And then the old family cure kicked in. You know those - the ones that are passed down from generation to generation as a "cure all" for any hint of illness. They vary from family to family - one preferring perhaps cod liver oil, or hot compresses, or "grandma's secret mixture" that bubbles quietly in a bottle in the fridge.

Well, our family cure is "hot bath, two disprins (similar to aspirin/panado) and into bed". So I set out to do just that.

And you know what? It still works. Maybe it's the hot hydrotherapy, or the disprin, or the bed, but it works.

Still not too great, but I'm here - because I have to be. Last day for students to register and I've got a few new ones still to turn up. But I'll be taking it as easy as I can.

What strange family cures does your family cling to, even if they make no sense medically?

Narnia

My son and I have embarked on our third bed-time reading of The Chronicles of Narnia, a chapter per night. No matter how many times you read it, you'll pick up something new every time.

We're near the end of the first book, "The Magician's Nephew" - the book that gives me goosebumps every time when I read of Aslan singing the world into existance, and crying with Digory over his mother's illness.

This time round while reading, I realized that Narnia is the land I long for - which probably only heaven can be, but which creation at the very beginning may just have looked like.

A land of lush valleys, bordered on the east by the sea and the west by a cliff from which a huge waterfall of crystal water cascades and runs through to the sea. Archenland across the desert to the south, the northern marches to the north. Narnia, a green jewel nestled in the center. A land where "clothes not only look good, but feel good too". Where animals and humans live in peace and tranquility (bar the odd evil witch), working the earth together, celebrating life, feasting and dancing beneath the arms of the tree-folk. Where who you are matters, as do honour and doing right. Where school walls crumble beneath a lion's roar and are overrun by grape vines - releasing the children from scratchy uniforms to run wild with Baccus and his girls.

Then I got to thinking what school or education might look like in Narnia - as opposed to the experience my son kicks against every morning, and which runs his waking hours in the form of attendance and homework. I put it to him too, and we came up with some ideas. Lessons in the art of feasting, in nature, in useful tools for life with fellow-man and beast. Lessons likely learnt from parents and extended family. Unfettered by hard desks and restricting conformity, likely to be outdoors when the weather holds, or around a cosy fire if the White Witch has made it forever winter. No uniforms, no heavy histories to learn - only the joy of discovering the path your kind have walked to where you are now, and learning from the examples of your elders. A process of becoming everything you could ever be, in the time it takes for it to happen naturally - not a set 12 years (and get it right or else).

Eutopia? Most certainly!

But it also got me wondering how much of what our kids learn in school these days is necessary to their life-success, their happiness, their actual survival. Are we just putting them through a "tried and tested" system, because it's expected not only by society, but also as a basis for a job that earns money that keeps you buying stuff you don't really need so you can look like you know who you are and where you're going? And where are those skills that ensure harmonious living with the world around us - man, beast and nature? At most an "environmental" subject is thrown in every year, but it's theory and the kids never get their hands dirty with rich warm soil.

Perhaps I'm too much of an idealist. Perhaps this flu that's crept up on me overnight and kept me in a mind-fog all day has something to do with my fantasies and mind-journeys. Or I could be seeing truth. Something to strive for. A chance to truly live - even though this is not Narnia.

Calling all SA bloggers!

I'm way behind the times here, but the SA blog awards are on! And the nominations are closing soon...as in 11 February soon! So, go nominate an SA blog and win exactly R20.05 for your 2005 prize. Cool stuff, man.

I'm off to list a few goodies from this marvellous land right now.

Update on Mom

Thank you so very much for your outpouring of thoughts, prayers and offers of help. I'm completely blown away! Laura, Bene - thank you for thinking practically in terms of trying to get cash for us to go over, and for letting people know about my situation. I very much appreciate it! Thanks too, to the new visitors to this little spot on the net, who have left encouragement in the comments.

I've just had a brief MSN chat with mom, to get the Facts, so that I don't go off the deep end on worry and worst-case scenarious. Unfortunately, the worst-case scenario may be the one we're dealing with. She has secondary cancer in her liver, and 12 new cancer spots in her body since the last scan. The liver is inoperable, as the spots are many and spread around. Yet her courage is good and she's still feeling great. She will be starting on a weekly chemo treatment soon, and she and my dad will seek counselling for emotional help during what lies ahead. They're hoping the chemo will "nuke" some of the spots and increase her chance of surviving this.

Us three kids, and the respective spouses, are distressed and unsure of how to react, what to hope for and what to accept as fact. We know God still works miracles, and mom is due for a special day of prayer at their church (Fox Valley, Sydney, Australia) on 19 February. There are folk all over the world praying for her. A miracle might happen. But if it doesn't, we need to be prepared to face what will come.

I'm not sure yet whether we'd be able to go to Australia on a visitor's visa while there is a migration visa still pending. I haven't heard any further news on the potential job offer I mentioned last week, which may get us over there permanently. I have no time-frame to work with in this situation, and can make no real plans. All I can do now is pray, offer support and love from afar, and figure out how we're going to get through this.

Prayer is needed - lots of prayer. I'm not sure what to pray for though - a miracle, hope, coping skills, courage or any of the other million options. I'm not sure whether prayer will change a set course. Perhaps the praying does us individually more good than it does the person we're praying for...

Whatever happens, I know life will go on. And as mom has just told me, life is for living, girl! She's asked us to stay positive and quit the worst-case thinking, and promised not to leave us in the dark so that our imaginations run away with us.

Hard days ahead though. Lots of runny mascara and up-and-down mood swings. I've already used up a lot of tissues here at work this morning, and am going to have to stock up with more...!

Thanks for being there for me, all of you! You guys are just amazing.

Reverse Evolution

I'm reading an interesting book at the moment, one of those strange ones that you wonder how many pinches of salt you need to take it with, but interesting nevertheless. It's called "Gods of the new millenium" and provides "proof" that flesh-and-blood gods created us in their image to do their labour. Some of the points that apparently prove this is that evolution would simply take too long for us to end up as intelligent and complex as we are, and the various culture's creation stories seem to indicate we were "cloned" or "genetically engineered" into existance.

OK, so I'm only a chapter or two into the book. I'm up to a fascinating look at various ancient sites that show a high level of technology in their ruins, like precision cutting of hard stone, which simply would not be acheiveable with stone-age type instruments - and which the author is on the road to using as further proof of "god" intervention in our history. You see, he's trying to tie up the proof with part-evolution and part-creation theories. Sort of a "third option" to the science (Darwinism) and religion (creation) streams.

It's common knowledge that ancient civilizations were highly technological, more than many would like to believe if we base our entire history on having gradually evolved from ape to neanderthal to primitive man to where we are today.

But I have another theory on that one.

You see, I'm a firm believer in a literal 6-day creation by God (at least I think I am, but if I keep reading these books I may end up way off mark! :) ). That He created us in His image as perfect - including using way more of our brains than we do now, being more "advanced" in a lot of areas than today etc. Reading through Genesis, one can see how man gradually lost a long life-span, and the effects of post-Eden living have been cumulative up to today (approximately 6,000 years in my reckoning, not millions).

Call it reverse-evolution if you will. A loss of our God-given height, abilities, intelligence, creativity, longevity, as thousands of years on this planet took their toll. But it explains the highly complex designs and perfect workmanship of the ancients - things we cannot even accomplish with all our fancy technology and civilized machinery today. Instead of evolving into better creatures, we've gone backwards from that perfect creation and are only just making it as apparent lords of the earth today.

I wonder, if I sat down with the author of this book, if he'd consider that point of view at all....

Bad News

Sorry to start Monday's blogging off with something not so positive, but here goes.

My mom underwent some medical tests (bone scans etc) last week to check on her cancer status. The results were in on Friday, and they're not good.

Her liver is "basically shot", and there are spots on her spine, skull, hips and ribs. The liver is inoperable, and so are the rest - but if you know anything about cancer you'll know that liver damage is basically terminal. They're going to try and treat it with chemo. She's having a small operation to insert a permanent "needle" in her chest, by which they'll give her a weekly dose of the chemo. She's been told she can stop it at any time.

Needless to say, it's got the rest of the family in a state of shock - or something very similar. We've realized that mom might not hold out too much longer, and are not sure how to handle this. She's far away from all of us, which makes it somehow unreal.

But as harsh as this is on her, it's even worse for dad. His biggest fear is losing his perfectly-matched soulmate, his wife of 35 years and the person he loves with all his heart. I don't know how he'd survive if mom died. I certainly don't know how he'd survive without a single family member on his continent to support him.

With a job offer in the works, we're thinking once again of how we can get over to Australia - and how quickly we can. We'll be needed in coming years (months?) I suspect.

I haven't really had time to talk this through with my brothers, but I suspect it's going to get tough from here on out.

::udate::
It's starting to sink in. I've been doing some research this morning, and found that only 13% of patients diagnosed with liver cancer live up to one year after diagnosis, 3% for 3 years and 0% for 5 years. This is based on treatment with chemotherapy to help prolong life - but there is no cure. Mom stated it's inoperable, so it's already beyond cure. It's starting to sink in. Mom is dying.

Shabbat Shalom

...and I really need that promised peace this week....

Murphy's Law of Road-Trips

Isn't this just typical. After saving those messed up pics from our roadtrip last week, clearing the camera's memory, removing and replacing the batteries, NOW my camera decides to work!!! Geez...

Next time we do an extended drive I'm taking ALL my cameras: digital, ancient Minolta with a bag of lenses, and point-and-shoot, just to be sure we get some sort of record of our adventures.

Man, sometimes I could kick technology - and perhaps sometimes it needs it too.

The Last of the Arachnids

I was just heading for bed yesterday when I happened to glance up in the bathroom, and who should be perched on the ceiling but a rather large 6-legged rain spider! They're not harmful or anything, just major freaky, and big, and I don't like anything with more than 4 legs (if he'd lost another 2 I might have liked him better).

Well, there was no way in heck we were going to go pee in the night with that thing poised above the Great White Throne, so the only thing to do was get it out.

As it seemed to have come in via the air vent (one of those built-in brick thingies with holes like a grid on both sides, except ours is missing a piece where some vicious mice ate it away a year or so back), I though if I sprayed insect killer in the general direction it would be intelligent enough to get out via the hole it came in by.

Unfortunately, having already lost two of its legs, I should have realized it wasn't the cleverest of beasts. Instead of heading out, it headed down, and across, toward the basket where shampoo and shavers are kept and behind the geyser (hot-water heater). There it proceeded to jerk around and curl up into a ball - obviously the spray was stronger than I thought. So I had to put it out of its misery and give it the rest of the nearly-empty can.

This morning I went looking to see where it ended up, and found it in the drain hole of the bath. Managed to wash it, and all its remaining legs, down the drain and outta sight.

But that didn't prevent me from having spider-related dreams all night! And there was more than one....

Here's a little trivia for you: research says that in our lifetimes we're likely to swallow eight spiders in our sleep - without us ever being the wiser. Though they're probably only little ones, or at least I hope so.

Theme Parks

Just trying to pull some images off the net for my son's "Creation/Evolution" poster (due tomorrow, but not yet started, as usual...I see another late night in our future!), and while searching for "animal kingdom" came across THE Animal Kingdom that Disney has decided simply must be presented to the public, instead of folk heading out to see the real thing in its natural environment.

Which brought me to ponder this:

Who on earth thought that dressing up in a big, very much artifical fish/fowl/beast costume would be a good idea? We all know the guy inside is probably either suffering heat exhuastion or oxygen deprivation, the costumes "do not the creature create", and they in no way resemble anything either living or dead that actually exists.

And yet theme parks are over-run with outsize fish, happy-to-meet-you cartoon characters, bouncing purple dinosaurs or any other variety of strange beast.

One wonders what an alien stopping by this ball of rock would think of the whole thing.

What a night!

We had quite an evening last night. Fitted so much into it that it felt like a whole weekend, to tell the truth.

First off, straight home from work I grabbed the nearest dog, told him it was "dog wash day" and dumped him in the tub. He was dying for a dog-wash, he was wiggling all over with anticipation as the water ran in. This, from a dog who runs and hides when I turn on the hosepipe to water the garden! Seems his aversion to water is seasonal... Well, he was so skin-happy after the bath that he tore all over the lawn, rubbing his face in the grass and wiggling on his back. Strange beast! :) The other dog hid under the bed and growled. His day will come....

Then we decided on the spur of the moment to have a mid-week braai (barbecue) for supper. Headed off to buy wood, marshmallows, rolls and a couple of chicken drumsticks (the only meat I'll eat, and the only way I'll cook it). Back home got the fire going, marinated the sacrificial offering briefly, then cooked it all, with some vegetarian sausages for the kid - just before a cold front moved in with icy winds and later dumped rain on the area. By then, fortunately, we were done with the braaing. We got to watch the storm come in through a colourful sunset.

To end off the evening, I realized there was a one-day cricket match on TV - us vs. England. Who have beaten us wholly in the 5-day series, and left us with mud on the face and bruised ego's. Well, we were doing pretty well, up to a point. By the time I'd jumped in and out of a quick bath though things were looking hairy. We were down to needing just one run off one ball at the end of the match to win - and the guy got stumped out! Darn. Another tie. The crowd, who had been on their feet and shouting for a couple of overs as our men hit sixes and fours, suddenly went very quiet. Ah well, another match up soon, and they'd better get themselves organized this time! Getting tired of our confused and mistake-ridden team making a mess of things.

It was a pretty good evening, for a mid-week! Except that now I need a weekend to catch up on a bit of a late night...

Oh no, not again...

So here I am, settling into life as a full-time South African, planning to get the business going by the end of the year, looking forward to making some changes.

And then a job offer arrives from Sydney to work at a high school!

Oh great. Not that I'm not thankful that I'm being considered, but I'm not sure how much of this rollercoaster ride I can take - one minute up there with the "we might go" and the next back down to earth with the "we're definitely staying". I so much want to actually LIVE for a bit, instead of holding off on the living (and the consequent buying of things we need to replace, building up of resources etc.).

And yet something has stopped me from splashing out on the goodies I wanted to get this month, most noteably the drill, jigsaw and sander I hoped to use to turn all that rescued wood into a small cabinet for the kitchen. I have yet to buy the material to make loose covers for the couches, or replace the TV that conked last weekend. I haven't got up the courage to splash out on the incredible moonstone ring I've been eyeing for months.

I don't know if that's just being cash-sensible on my part, or if there's more to it.

There's still the major issue of visa, and the regulation that the Aussie government prefers a position to be filled by an Australian before they go looking overseas for someone. Yet my CV has been passed on by the Mega-Boss of the organization who offered the position. Perhaps he's trying to find a sponsorship position to go ahead with? Dunno.

Anyway, I'm not saying anything to the relatives just yet. They don't read this blog as far as I know - though now and then they seem to check in and find stuff. I have to admit though that I'm not too good at keeping my mouth shut, and may talk when the brother/sis-in-law come around this weekend. We'll see. Just want to hear back from the offerer first and see what their thoughts are.

Oh for a crystal ball! It would be really nice to know which way this will go.

Mini Clubhead

I'm breeding a total clubhead. Scary, but true.

I was never really into the club/trance music scene, but lately have found it more and more tolerable, likeable, and some of it just plain lekker! (an Afrikaans word for nice, deeevine, delicious, great - generally interchangeable for anything that's good, and sprinkled liberally throughout any South African's daily language). However, I'm picky about what I do and don't like, and won't just take anything that comes along. I've always liked songs that are "crafted" instead of just "mixed" - like Faithless's "Insomnia".

I've been trawling the internet for an old favourite of mine, the club mix from a few years ago of "Oh Fortuna" from Carmina Burana, but can't find it anywhere. In my search though I found a video clip from something called "Sensation White 2004" - you can see/download it here (Windows Video file, +/- 9MB). ("Sensation Black 2004" is here, but I don't like it quite as much as the other one, simply for the music in the clip). It's apparently an annual massive dance party/event/rave in the Netherlands, themed either black or white, and everyone dresses appropriately (all 35,000 of them!). DJ's, special effects and laser lighting are the order of the day.

Being a sucker for big events, awesome lighting and such, I just HAD to download it - and take it home for my son to see. You see, he's developing into a definite mini-clubhead. He loves a lot of the club/trance stuff, but also the well-crafted things and not the general club-mixed junk floating around. He got his first burnt CD last year, filled with "acid" tracks I'd found here and there. (His friend, the one who talks so much, was not impressed - and I'm pretty sure his parents weren't either!).

Well, we played it and drooled. When that kid is old enough we're off to just such an event, if we can find one. Simply for the experience. I'm pretty sure we'll both have a ball!

Number's Up!

My son has a best friend who just cannot, cannot ever stop talking! We "babysat" one night and this kid wakes up talking! His first words were, "oh look, it's 6:00!" and it just went on non-stop from there. He chats about anything and nothing all jolly day long. He REALLY gets irritating sometimes...

We tried telling him that each of us is given a certain number of words to say in our lifetimes, and he's using his up during his childhood, but it didn't sink in. He still talks and talks and talks. We've almost given up trying to get a word in edgewise.

I wonder if there's a word-limit for blogging too. Lately I just don't have anything to say, but don't want this blog to "die" due to a lack of postings, so on I ramble about utter junk most days. Sorry if it's gotten real boring around here lately! Just seems my number's up...

So - anything you'd like to ask me? Any blogging ideas you'd like to submit? Leave them in the comments and help a poor blogger say something worth reading!!!

When Technology Matters

Here I am, happily assigning my new students their student numbers - and someone walks in to tell me I'm working on the "old system" that no-one else will ever access again. Pity I wasn't informed! (I'm convinced there's a brain-drain of both logical thinking and communication skills that happens as one enters the campus. Both are seriously lacking here.)

Seems the new system is only up on one computer. No-one can connect to it via a second computer, and the only solution they could come up with was that I need to register students on paper in my office, run across the building to their office, register them there and assign a student number, then run back to do it for one of the other 150 students again!

No way. Not doing that.

However, I'm the only one assigning new numbers, so we've come up with a plan. I'll use the last assigned number, carry on assigning from there, then go enter a batch on the sole computer during a quiet spot between students. Until they get the link up and running...

It's little disasters like this that make registration a real pain in the butt sometimes. That and the fact that no-one seems to bother planning in advance, but prefer to rush around at the last minute stamping out fires!