Much like 39

Last week I made the mistake of watching "What Not To Wear" over breakfast - the mistake being that they were doing over a 40 year old chick who owns her own business.  As I have a mere 2 days left of 39 and also own a business or two, that piqued my interest, so I settled in.

And the chick came out the other end stunning.

Which is something all us chicks secretly aspire to, whether we say so or not.

This week I went shopping for a little black dress.  Favourite Man has something special planned for my birthday which requires dressing up and going out on the town - two things we don't do very often, so much so that I actually haven't owned a dress or a skirt in 3 years or more.  I found my dress, but also realized that unless you have the WNTW team paying for your shopping spree, any physical upgrade doesn't come cheap.  It took me a day or two to get up the courage to pay for said LBD, although in the grand scheme of things it probably wasn't the most expensive item on the rack.  I then went shopping for appropriate heels and stuff - but simply couldn't get up the courage to pay for anything more that day, knowing that there are still practical things like groceries, fuel and business expenses to cover, as well as Xmas looming large.

Which brings me to a couple of dilemmas when it comes to my desire to be better at 40.

Firstly there's the whole ageing thing.  Changing room mirrors love to tell you how badly things are bumping, lumping, drooping or sagging - and my shopping expedition has shown me just how old I'm getting. 



Next there's cash.  If I'm ever to upgrade how I look it's going to cost me.  A lot.  And I'm not the type to throw money at frivolities if there's better places to invest it, with longer-term rewards (such as keeping us alive or growing the business).  As a quick indication of some basics:

• Underwear starts at over R100 for a basic bra and around the same for decent panties.  Head into WonderBra territory and we're hitting around R300.  For one item.
• Want a shirt?  Fork over R150+, even at the cheap shop.  Plain t-shirt?  Around R60 if you want something that won't wear out in a month.  And if you're investing in clothes, they really shouldn't wear out in a month, so you can't shop at the cheap shop.
• Jeans - unless you buy them at Pick 'n Pay (which I do, because they fit well and are comfortable and cost R110), you can expect upward of R300 at Woolies.
• Other pants - eish.  (Yet I hear jeans are not the thing for a 40 year old to be wearing, nor t-shirts so other pants must eventually be considered)
• Jackets, jerseys etc - eish again.  If you can find decent quality ones, you'll pay for them through the nose.
• Shoes.  Hmmm.. I must be one of the few women who don't have a shoe fetish, mostly because I baulk at paying over R200 for anything and tend to live in a single pair of takkies from the Chinese shop.  However, I do need shoes - and I have size 8 feet, which aren't easy to shop for.  When you do find something that fits, it's another few hundred bucks.  Get it in lasting leather, pay a whole lot more.

So now we're up to a grand or so for the basic pieces of cloth and plastic/leather.

Then there's the face.  I stopped in at Edgars to enquire about foundation, another thing I haven't had a drop of in years.  Found the right colour at the Clinique counter - the bill is R320.  "I'll be back" I say and exit rather quickly.  Head down to Clicks for the cheaper options like Revlon, but now I need "age defying" stuff because I'm not 20 anymore - another few hundred bucks, if you can find the right colour actually in stock, and someone willing to help confirm your choice.  For the rest of the things we plaster on, I can get by with cheap mascara from Rialo (R35), blusher from the same (R30), and lipgloss too (R25) - plus an assortment of eyeshadows and other things that have lasted me for years because they don't see much action.  As for moisturizer, it appears they're draining baby softness directly from babies to put in the bottles, and then flogging them on at an appropriate cost.  I don't even dare ask what those little vials of top beauty house liquid cost, as I'd prefer not to "fall flou" in the mall.

On to hair.  Mine is waist length mostly because I haven't had the time to see a hairdresser in ages.  Today it's time to find one, and hopefully get a decent cut out of it that will last a while - especially at the R200+ price tag.  Colour?  Hell no, out of my salary bracket.  Best I can do is perhaps a home kit that doesn't cost the earth - but that unfortunately also doesn't look too professional.  So my "highlights" are the grey streaks slowly taking over :-)  And the style?  Plaited.  Out of the way of drills, network cable and e-waste.  Would I like to have a sweep of silken glamour, artfully arranged?  Of course.  Who wouldn't.  And I hope to aspire to it one day, just not today.

Hair in other places?  Well some go for salon waxing and zapping with lasers - it lasts, but you do pay for the privalege.  Brow shaping, tweaking and dying/bleaching, same thing.  You must maar do what you can with a razor, a box of Mandys wax strips and a tube of Refatocil dye.  Which takes time and can hurt like the blazes.

Of course all this is a bit of a moot point.  As lovely as it would be to swan around in kitten heels, luxurious fabrics and actually look like a perfectly groomed small business owner, there's reality to think of.  Yes, I own the business, but I don't just meet & greet and sit in an office chair.  I'm required to climb into and onto client's roofs, pick up and transport excessively dirty and old electronics, and do all this driving a leaking 35 year old Land Rover that it would be best to be prepared to dive under at a moment's notice should something break.  Just this morning I was under it topping up the transfer box oil. 

Can you see me doing that in heels and business attire?  No, me neither.  Even something as simple as a coat of nailpolish goes terribly wrong a few hours later when I'm required to clean an item with acetone.  On any given day, I can go from admin to rooftops in one foul swoop - and have found that if I do make considerable effort to look good in the morning, those are the days I'll be required to do the dirtiest work.

I've come to the horrifying conclusion that, good intentions notwithstanding, 40 is unfortunately going to look much like 39 - except that now I have a pretty little black dress in my cupboard.

All our stuff

It's the 1st of October - and on the first of any given month the roads are strewn with vehicles hauling furniture to new homes as people shift here and there.  I passed a couple of cars  with trailers piled high, every belonging imaginable on, in and around the vehicle.  Probably only one of many trips.

Having recently done the whole move thing myself, I got to wondering (as one does when driving a slow vehicle through Saturday morning "rush" traffic).

Just how much stuff do we actually need?

Way back when we were all nomads, before we grew crops and built houses, what was needed to "live" might have been merely what you could carry or strap to a pack-beast.  Something to cook in, something to kill with, something to sleep on.  You wore your only clothing.

And then someone got the bright idea that a pillow would be nice.  And perhaps sitting on the ground was not cool - another pillow would do there too.  So add two pillows to the pack-beast.  But the pillow got dirty, so add a stool to put it on - and at the same time elevate yourself above the rest of your fire-side-mates.

Then the wife said she'd like to make more than a one-pot meal - so you got her another pot.  And then added airs and graces, and a couple of bowls to eat the meal out of.  Then everyone wanted their own food-knife, so those were added to the pack-beast.  Which in turn started to collapse under the load - so you got a second pack-beast.

This opened up the opportunity for carrying a lot more stuff, and pretty soon you decided grass wasn't good enough to sleep on - a people-size pillow would be nice.  Queue more pack-beast load.

Eventually you had so much stuff you needed to start leaving some of it somewhere.  And having  a cave to store it in meant you could accumulate more stuff.  But once someone else decided to help themselves to your stuff while you were out hunting, you then went and built a house that could lock up so no-one could steal your stuff.  And then filled every room....

Which is why when we moved out of a two-bedroom house with no garage into a three-bedroom house with a garage, we had to hire a 6x3m storage unit to house all our extra stuff that wouldn't fit in here! :-)

What is it about us humans that make us want to accumulate things?  Surround ourselves with objects that gather dust, get tripped over, break and have to be replaced - but which, we've decided, make life worth "living"?

And what would happen if we stripped all that away, sat down and sorted through everything - and only kept the things we actually needed to survive?

Doubt we ever will - it's a slippery slope, this stuff-accumulation.

But fun nonetheless to ponder on a day that sees much moving in and out across the land.

A Day-trip to SARS

"If you go down to SARS today, you're in for a big surprise...
If you go down to SARS today, you'd better take some supplies!"

The time has come to apply for VAT registration for Cape Connect.  Thus it was I duly filled out the forms, gathered the documentation, and set aside a bit of time to go pop in to the Bellville branch, as you need to apply in person.  First trip to their offices - my personal taxes are filed online.

I'd already had a bit of a day by the time I got there:  started by securing the accelerator linkage on Olivia before dashing through to the Big City.  There, on my lonesome, I carried 12 servers down two flights of stairs in Newlands and plonked them in the truck - some of them are half my weight..!  Then it was a mad dash down to Cape Cables in Montague Gardens to collect networking supplies - and I finally made it to SARS in Bellville at 12.

Only to discover a disjointed queue - outside the building.  Parts of it were clinging to the available shade, and everyone who joined had to ask where it ended.  After half an hour there was still no movement - they let people in in batches it seemed, armed with a number, assigned by two ladies who walk the queue and find out what you're there for.  We did finally get moving though, a bit at a time.

Around then I started to wish I'd brought lunch, a snack, or at the very least my emergency Reader's Digest condensed book, which was about 500m away in the truck - but I wasn't going to duck out of the queue to get it!  Nevertheless, I attempted to be friendly to a nearby waiting chick, who simply stuck her nose in the air and ignored me.


One hour into the wait I made it inside - yay!  Got my ticket number, sat down on the stairs as every seat was taken.  Slowly worked my way up to where I was told VAT was processed as chairs emptied at a rate of one every half hour.

You get all kinds at the SARS office.  Loud old men who protest the lack of service.  Friendly types who talk them into calmness.  Your average tax-traveller catching up on a snooze in the back row with their cellphone on "music" mode (softly).  The local hooker, dressed to the nines in nine-inch heels - well, she could have been an office worker, but she was dressed like a hooker.  And your average joe, just like me, taking the next step forward in business ownership.


The whole of South African humanity ends up there sooner or later I guess.

By 2:00 I had a cushion under my bum, poised on a chair in the front row!  Next to an elegantly sleeping Indian woman and a Muslim-looking elderly gentleman.  All quiet on the queue front, bar the occasional electronic voice announcing a ticket and a service window number.  No wonder it was a struggle to keep eyes open - many didn't succeed.

Just before 3 my number was called, and a very helpful SARS lady took my documents, processed them, gave me her email address to send one more thing, sent me on my way - and I was gone!

Three hours.  And it's not even tax season.

I count my blessings though.  One poor guy behind me (who wasn't up for specialized treatment as he was just a "general enquiry") had been there since 8:30 that morning!

And the stuck-up chick in the queue?  She flashed me a gigantic friendly smile as she left.

So - my impressions of SARS?  Their offices are actually pretty nice - well kitted out, clean and not at all government-issue old fashioned (hell, our tax bucks have to be used for SOMETHING I guess).  The staff are friendly and helpful.  But I reckon they could do with a library trolley, stocked with today's papers, an assortment of magazines and a novel or two.  They could also do with a drinks vendor wandering the halls - and it would be REALLY helpful if more than 30 percent of the service windows were open...

Day-ends

While the northern part of the world is dreaming of a anything-but-white Christmas, facing travel delays and getting stuck in snowdrifts, us southern lot are sweltering.  How sweltering?  This sweltering - that's a realtime graph of the temp at one of our high sites nearby.  Add in the occasional gale-force south-easter to vary things, and summer is well under way.

However, it's making work very difficult.  We're not slowing down or stopping over the festive season.  Quite a few folk are getting internet or an e-waste clear-out for Christmas, keeping us on the hop, outdoors, generally in the blazing sun.

The middle of the day is literal hell.  Too hot to be on a roof, too hot even to eat.  So we find ourselves working day-ends.  Starting early (it's light at 4:30 if you're up then), ending late.

Right now the boys are 8 floors up on a building next to the beach, adjusting antennas - at 6 in the evening.  It's 37.5 C outside my front door, only barely cooler that high up.  The appointment they had for the middle of the day has been put off until early tomorrow morning before the heat sets in.  I braved an hour outside in the sun before putting off my work until the tools cooled down enough to handle and the shade had moved across this afternoon.

We're doing admin and inside jobs while the sun blazes overhead or when things cool down after 10 at night.  We're attempting to sleep somewhere between midnight and 5 before the light and heat set in once more.

We're living in the day-ends with the fan on - it's the only way to survive.

I hear rumours of rain tomorrow though.  If it turns up, it's going to be awesome.  Even if we have to work in it.

Creative Block

Yesterday I submitted a few old photos for an online competition.  I had to really dig through archives to find something remotely worthy - and realized it's been a very long time since I took pics of anything other than work stuff.

I had this sudden urge to ditch an hour of the working day, grab Favourite Man's camera with mine as backup, and head down to the beach / out to somewhere non-built-up to snap away for a bit.

Being self-employed, you'd think it would be an easy option.  No office to report to, no office hours to adhere to.  But unfortunately, being self-employed means maximizing every waking minute to keep up with the bills.  Sitting on the beach doesn't pay.  So I had to suppress that urge and go do something profitable instead.

But it got me thinking.

I used to consider myself reasonably creative.  Back in high school I was the arty-farty type, notebooks filled with sketches, poetry and short stories.  Now that I'm (a whole lot) older, "real life" has taken over.  The only creative thing I've done in a while was attempt to be a Land Rover e-magazine editor for a few months - which also came to an end because I didn't have enough time to make a decent go of it.

I haven't written anything creative in ages.  There's a Google Docs folder lurking somewhere with half-formed thoughts and merely-begun musings.  There's even the beginnings of a book - but all unfinished and untouched in a long time.

I haven't taken an interesting or beautiful photo - other than obvious sunsets thrown in front of me so dramatically I couldn't NOT do so.  My macro option is gathering dust, my Real Film Camera long since sold along with it's myriad lenses.

The only painting I've done is touching up the walls of the house.

The only woodwork cutting a plank in half to mount equipment on.

I have a pile of brilliant projects waiting in a corner of my head to pop out and be seen.  One even involves a welder (though I'm NOT proficient in the use of such things).

Days like yesterday I miss my creative side.  Days like yesterday it begs to be let out to play.

But days like yesterday also bring the fear that I've forgotten how.

Mighty Mouse

We have a Mouse.  But not just any mouse...

On Friday I thought I heard a rustling out in the back yard while doing some work.  I might have glimpsed something - but perhaps it was just the wind moving a few old leaves.

While I was out doing the shopping later, Favourite Man heard movement downstairs.  That sneaky cat from next door perhaps, stopping by via the open back door?  Perhaps.  The dog was sniffing around the washing machine and storage boxes - must have been a cat.

Later that evening we're all sitting around post-supper watching a bit of TV, when there was the sound of more than just a rustle from the shelves where the dog's food is kept.  We all jumped up to investigate, the boys armed with torches.

Yup, something rodenty was hiding on the shelf!

Rat?  (Eww...)  NOPE - MOUSE!

With a Capital M.

He's awfully cute and fluffy, all brown and white - but extremely well fed, an obvious ex-pet, and very very large.  Small rat size!  And boy is he scared.

However, he must out - so the chase was on.  From the top shelf, to the next one, to the bottom one - everything was hauled out and poor mouse hunted down.  He was found cowering in a corner, peeing himself with fear.  And then he was off!  Behind the storage bins, where he was chased into a box that had no hope of closing and out again.

His final move was over the feet of his two male persuers - and I watched as two grown men danced and shouted....  (we won't say screamed, shall we?)

Finally he was out the back door, leaving spots of fear-pee all the way.

So now we have a Mouse.  A Mouse called Hercules (not only because he's large, but because he makes giants tremble).  Who is given a handful of dry dog food each evening near where he is now residing.  Rather feed him out there and keep him happy than have him coming in the window hungry and literally eating us out of house and home.

I'll still either tame him or capture him - for now he'll have to enjoy the freedom of the great outdoors a little longer.

This old bed

There's been a big change in our house in the past week. REALLY big. We got a new bed.

When my family moved to South Africa from Zimbabwe in 1984, my parents invested in a new Sealey double bed that was very good. So good that until last Monday it was still in service, 26 years later!

Trouble is, a 26 year old bed does tend to start showing its age.

In fact, here's the state it was in.

Mattress: slightly collapsed no matter how often you turned it.

Base - more so!  In fact, we'd had to "pad" it with planks under the mattress to avoid falling toward the middle on getting in:

You can see how low the sides had begun to sink...

As a result we were waking up with sore backs, trouble breathing (who knows how many kilos of dead dust mites that thing was harbouring), horrible restless nights and all that stuff.  In addition, poor Favourite Man had his feet constantly hanging off the end, being rather taller than most.

And then a knight in shining armour flitted over the horizon - or rather a great bloke by the name of Wynand who works for a bed manufacturer down the road! :-)  We ordered an extra-length bed and picked it up literally hot off the line a week or so later - long enough to accommodate Favourite Man's toes at night, and with a sturdy memory foam mattress and brand new 6-footed base!  (Late night shot post-installation, so a bit on the yellow side)

Wow.

What a difference.

Firstly, the thing is HUGE.  I feel like the Princess (minus the Pea) having to climb up it to get into bed at night!  It's no wider than the last one, but both mattress and base are considerably thicker.  It's also a lot firmer - great for Favourite Man, taking some adjustment for me (first few nights were like sleeping on a plank but we're getting there).  Being foam, there's no moving of the entire sleeping platform like a waterbed when someone turns over or gets up, so we tend to sleep more solidly.

This is the first non cheap-sponge-and-pine-slats new bed I've ever had.  And such good quality that I suspect it's going to outlive it's predecessor.

So what happened to the old one?  Unfortunately it had one final trip in the trailer... to the dump.  Perhaps it's been rehomed by someone who sees it as a step up in the world (I like to think so), perhaps not.

End of an era.

Missing: July

You may (or may not) have noticed that this particular corner of cyberspace has been a bit quiet of late. Just scanned through my Blogger dashboard and noticed the last post was around 20 June!

In the meantime the World Cup has come and gone (yay on the latter! now to banish that horrible WakaWaka song from random memory pop-ups), the winter's dragged on (though we seem to have hit a no-rain reasonably-warm patch lately), the dog has been down with kennel cough, relegated to a new sleeping spot inside and settled in there on what he thinks is a permanent basis, the work has overwhelmed and written words have been few.

If I'd had the time I might have blogged about:

* how responding to a question someone posed online got me so angry as I typed that I ended up not posting it - instead it took 3 days to stop being more than a little pissed off and calm down.

* driving on the old Sir Lowry's Pass road for the last time before they closed it and tore it up, while we now enjoy the new-tar smoothness on the other side where there once was mere broad dirt and grass.

* the difference between a good month and a disastrous one, in practical terms

* mind over matter and how telling myself to "suck it up and heal" seems to be curing the various cuts, bruises, scrapes etc associated with my job in record time :-) (for example the tip of my finger I sliced off, which a month later shows no sign of it other than a slight loss of feeling)

* the surprisingly excellent job my local Home Affairs office is doing - passport applied for and received quickly with no hassles or any real wait.

* how to make sure your teenager showers daily (hint - involves putting him to work at ground level where there's a lot of mud, more than can safely be borne into bed at night)

* three years with my Favourite Man and the wonders thereof - better every day

..and a whole lot more.

Pity, then, that the best blog posts are always dreamed up while I'm driving and forgotten the minute I switch off the Land Rover back home.

Of Food

We've been watching Jamie Oliver's Food Revolution over the past few weeks, raising eyebrows at the habits of those across the sea, and raising eyebrows at our own not-the-best food habits too....

So every evening when I head out to do the grocery shopping, I trawl the fruit and veg section, looking for the best stuff I can find to feed my family with this show and a couple of others percolating in my head.

And I've come to one rather horrifying conclusion. We don't actually have a lot of variety in our shops. Yes, the fruit and veg aisles are filled up with stuff, but when you look at it (going through the mental image list) you have only:

• Potatoes, Sweet potatoes
• Gemsquash and butternuts
• Onions, carrots
• Tomatoes x 2 varieties
• Lettuce, cucumber, mushrooms, peppers (the last two sometimes way too expensive, and the latter only eaten by myself)
• Very pricey little items like baby corn and fine green beans, small chilis and herbs (fall under "luxury items")
• Out-of-season fruits in expensive packaging (again "luxury items)
• Bananas, apples, sometimes a bit of citrus or a handful of things like kiwi fruit, granadillas, pawpaws, avos and pineapples
• Pre-packaged chopped veg of the above varieties
• Green beans, cauliflower (usually), brocolli (usually), baby marrows (sometimes).

In short, I have to somehow combine this lot into food that has variety, that tastes good and that we can actually afford every day.  And the truth is it's not easy - especially when half the items on the list are no-goes for various folk in the household (I'd have a riot if I ever came home with brussels sprouts!).

What we have in our local supermarkets are close to mono-culture.  Everyone sells the same stuff, likely from the same big farms, and there isn't much difference in varietals - no "heirloom" or "farmers market" goods, just things that have gone from commercial farm somewhere out there to packaging and distribution plant to us.

Which is why the farmer's market at Lourensford Estate may just need a visit from me sometime soon, connections with other local food-growers made.... and the pots out the front need to start sprouting a lot more edible landscaping.  Who knows, perhaps I'll even get that vertical garden off the ground at last ('scuse the pun).

::update::
Check these out!
Home harvest from a backyard no-dig garden
Try no-dig gardening

Silence is Golden

They say women talk a lot. (In my opinion men talk a lot more!) But, as in many other things, I'm not your average woman. I really don't say much, and lately there's been very good reason for it, one I only realized fully this past week.

You see, I had quite a few meetings that required discussion over coffee or across rooftops during the week. And I really, really struggled to get through them. Without fail, after 5 minutes of talking my voice would start to give out - it would be physically too painful to actually get a word to exit my voicebox. I'd be off coughing and choking and trying to speak - without a whole lot of success.

It's pretty scary, I tell you. To find out that where you used to have a great speaking voice and could get up in front a load of people to talk for an hour, now you simply can't. You can't project your voice, you can't speak for any length of time, you can't even voice words that make sense at times - your tongue simply won't form what's in your head for fear of the resulting pain.

What's caused it? I suspect it's the "use it or lose it" thing. I've gradually started saying less and less in recent years, keeping quiet more, letting those around me do the talking (my thoughts jabber on without coming out mostly), I no longer have to stand up in front of audiences to speak, I work and drive in silence, and I'm simply not used to exercising my vocal chords as I may have in the past. I don't know if it's all in my head, psycho-somatic or has become a physical issue - perhaps it's a mixture of these.

Can I cure it? Maybe. But contrary to popular belief, women don't just naturally chatter away. I may have to start talking at length to myself out loud (that's going to go down well with those who already think I'm nuts! :-) ), build up vocal strength, and see if that helps.

Meantime you'll find me quietly going about my business. Saying what I can when I can, and then shutting up.

These hands were made for working...

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 :-)

Global Warming vs The Recession

This story came my way today and had me thinking pretty hard.

Yes, it's quite a shocker. The fact that the shipping industry is in such dire straits, added to the poor bottom-of-the-rung workers this will only hit in 2 years, added to... well there's a whole lot of bad news there.

Been sneaking in an Oprah show or two while making supper lately too. And she's also on about the recession, scrimping and saving, being thrifty, and watching where your money is stored. She's got experts from here until kingdom come to help us along the way.

There was an interesting show on a little while ago about the tent cities springing up as people try and survive a sudden lack of income. Treehugger has a piece on Transition Towns too - people who are finding new (or old?) ways to cope - paring down, foraging and planting their own food, cutting back on the electrics and electronics...

And here's where Global Warming hits the picture.

Step back from all the bad news, add in a pinch of the other bad news - and what do you get?

And entire planet that has basically ground to a halt, has cut their pollution because they can't afford to drive / run a tanker / keep the lights on all night. There are less commuters thanks to jobs disappearing. Families are rediscovering alternative entertainment in the great outdoors as opposed to the latest and greatest gadgetry. And those planting their own backyard (or balcony!) farms have started re-greening what was once simply cement and stone. People are rediscovering what our grandparents knew - how to can vegetables and bake bread and mend things and make things.

In short - suddenly there's a lot less pressure on our environment to sustain a techo-industrial lifestyle.

So I have to ask - could this worldwide recession actually be the best way of fighting global warming (or global destruction if you believe global warming is a myth / natural cycle)? It's one we could never have dreamt up as a solution, and certainly not something you could get millions to do in a hurry.

I dunno, just thinking...

Girls in Glasses

"Men seldom make passes at girls in glasses" goes the saying from way back in 1937.

Not just a saying though...

I got my first pair of glasses when I was in grade 3 or so. Shortsighted, I couldn't read the blackboard from the back of the class. I wore them until I was in high school - but "vanity" forced them off my face when I didn't really really need to see things in the distance. I would rather have a blurry world than wear them and look silly. When I started working, they became a hinderance - stirring large vats of warm milk to make cheese would mist them up - so I put them away and went "blind". I'd still haul them out for things like movies... or I used to until I went on a date with a very sexy bloke and had to choose between seeing the movie and snogging him...! Snogging won. But that night I decided it was time to investigate contact lenses.

I've been wearing contact lenses for many many years now. At one of my annual lens renewals, there was a special offer to get the appropriate glasses to your prescription free - and I took it up. So I have a pair of glasses that have been lying around for "just in case".

Well "just in case" is today. I've had trouble with the contact lenses lately and my eyes need a break from them for a bit. I'm not fond of the things - the optrician who had them made asked if I worked much with computers. When I said yes, he made sure they were computer-friendly: they're thicker on the outer edges than in the middle. But this means when you turn your head the whole perspective on the world changes like a fish-eye lens and it can make you rather sea-sick! They're also not very large lenses, so going down stairs gets interesting. You end up choosing between the "geez, I'm tall!" clear glasses view or the "geez, I'm short!" unclear view just under the lenses at foot level.

I think I'm used to them sorta now after a day's wear, but doing so has brought back all sorts of memories and personal perceptions. When I have my glasses on, it's like there's a wall between me and the world. One of my best assets - my eyes (once was told they're my only good asset and it's stuck...) - is hidden away. I'm one of the "girls in glasses who don't get passes". I feel mousey and shy, and it's back to that high school "outsider" feeling too. Not one of the cool kids, you're the geeky arty chick who blends into the background out on the edges. It's harder to put on make-up (mascara brushes up against the glass) and look good - or feel good.

Yup, all that from some wire and glass perched on the bridge of my nose and hooked behind the ears.

Weird, hey?

I know there are those who can pull of the sexy librarian look with ease. Who actually look better with their glasses on than off. Who gain a confidence and authority that matches a bit of austere eyewear.

Me - I'm not one of them. Not yet, anyway.

En die kak kom weer..

I'm starting to dread the 1st of each month.

Today it's Spring (officially / unofficially) and I should be skipping through the daffodils (if I could find any!). Instead I've got a decidedly wintery gale-force north-wester about to spatter rain against my window, have had to batten down the hatches outside, and am not looking forward to heading out on the road in a few minutes.

But over and above the dodgy weather, the first of the month (this month, last month, pick a month!) is just plain kak. Squeezing clients to pay their bills, placating those to whom that cash must immediately be transferred to cover expenses, and dealing with whatever automated systems decide to give/take away at the midnight hour of the previous month (in spite of being told otherwise) means I'd rather not wake up on the 1st anymore. Let me sleep until the 2nd, when all the drama is over and life can go on again.

If only....

But "die kak kom weer" without fail every month, and I have to brace myself for it, like it or not.

Talking of which, I'd better sight up my next victim in the firing line and get to it.

Eish.

Mid-week

I've had a hell of a day. There, I said it. I don't admit it often enough to myself or out loud. It has been a tough, hard, discouraging day and I don't really know how I made it through it.

But here I am, back on my chair/stool/table/thing in front of the computer, out the other end in one piece and facing down another 24 hours.

Yup, some days are harder than others to get through. You wonder how you're going to keep head above water, deal with the demands and expectations from every angle, cover your bases (and your costs), and make it home on the fuel in the tank. It's days where you'd rather ask the begger for money than have him request a loaf of bread (I told one to go ask Zuma earlier this week and was sworn at colourfully). It's days where you simply haven't had time to breathe, to think, to gather your strength before the next onslaught - and you know it isn't over yet. Still a good few hours of slog to go, of giving whatever's left to give.

It's been a hard day. But I'm still alive, still here, still breathing - I haven't fallen off a mountain, crashed either of the two vehicles, been beheaded by the bank pitbulls, burst randomly into tears, or run away. Heaven knows the latter thought was mighty appealing once or twice. But I'm here, taking a deep breath and facing up to the next challenge.

And that's gotta count for something.

Juice

It's a terrible thing, the need to sleep.

Take this evening for example. I've got a HUGE number of goodies I want to accomplish and a mind going a million miles a second. I'm involved in a big project that's taking creative energy and some serious wheedling, and have spent the entire day loading e-waste and driving everywhere from Kuilsriver to Montague Gardens to Woodstock to Fish Hoek. And then more e-waste once back in Somerset West. That would be two trailer-loads and the back of the truck worth, in layman's terms, loaded on, loaded off, then sorted/moved.

This evening I waded through a mound of goods organization, made supper, washed dishes, baked cookies, then finally sat down to my computer.

And found my inbox flooded, things waiting for attention - from admin, to general chat, to notifications, to to-do lists, to projects in progress.

Trouble is I can't go forever. And definitely not on minimal food/water like I've done today. Too busy to eat, forgot to re-hydrate! Eish.

So now I'm sitting here completely exhausted, wondering if I should stock up on Red Bull for the future, while my headspace overheats and my body can't keep up with my thoughts!

I know I won't get through tomorrow's huge tasks (more e-waste, dealing with buyers and sellers, trekking to bank and up mountain...) unless I rest.

Anyone know a cheap clone creator?

Win some, lose some

It's been very much an up and down week. I've had successes and failures. Thursday was a day that was one disaster after another. Today was better.

In the past week I've booked and cancelled a ticket to Australia for my son to visit his gramps - long story, with enough kak that it doesn't bear repeating here.

I've found new clients and lost potential clients.

I've had meetings work out beautifully and other meetings fizzle into no-shows, missed-points or lack of progress.

I've worked very hard physically - I've worked very hard mentally. I've got bruises to prove both.

And now it's the end of the week. Looking back, I'm perhaps not as panicked and angsty as I could be. I've purged the bad stuff now and choose to remember the awesome moments.

Like the view from our high site on a perfect day after my weather concerns in the last post:


Like belly-laughs and craziness with my two boys - Favourite Man and the Kid. Or simple quiet and good times all together.

Like driving my Olivia, with her humming along happily, antennas bobbing, the coolest Land Rover on the road.


And hard slog paying off big-time.

And sunsets and sunrises that are awesome.


And so many blessings, things that make me smile, people who love me - and who I love.

In spite of a very crappy time this week, in spite of being hurt by words and actions, in spite of watching one thing fail after another, the jewel-like good simply cancels out the bad.

And tonight I'm calm.

Litany of Woe

My annual litany of woe is starting. As I write, this is the view out my window:


It's blerry cold out there. We had a HUGE storm front hit this past weekend and it just won't go away. Excessive rain and wind, icy temps, not a whole lot of that sun thing. Apparently the first snow of the season has coated nearby mountains.

And I've got a new verse to add to my litany this year. Namely that both my jobs are now outdoor jobs!

The e-waste business doesn't involve a sheltered office and heater on the feet. The wireless business requires one to jump up in the middle of the day or night to climb into drafty ceilings, scale newly-washed-out mountain roads (with Favourite Man hauling trees out the way of the Landy as we go) to freezing wind-swept heights, and install antennas come rain or shine. We may have moaned about heat in summer - but we're getting a taste for the same job in winter and I vote for summer any time!

I get cold easily. My two best times of the day are the pre-bed boiling hot shower, and snuggling up to Favourite Man. I know those are the only times I'm going to be warm, so I revel in them deliciously. (The latter not just for warmth - Favourite Man is worth snuggling up to hot or cold)

But there's an upside to my work. It's very physical - and that by default warms you up considerably. Sitting in front of a computer, not so much (you should feel my mouse-hand now!).

Last week while Favourite Man fiddled with electronics on the high site, I pushed over pine trees and stacked them, giving the fynbos a chance to rejuvenate and fill in the blanks. YES, pushed over pine trees. As tall as some are, a fire a few years back killed them, and now their roots are decomposing. As we noticed this weekend when the wind came through and knocked a large number of them over like matchsticks! Throwing your weight around works up a decent sweat - before long I'd shed one of the jackets, then the jersey.

Loading e-waste on trailers - same thing. I'm fitter than I have been in years (a good thing) - and thinner (good/bad thing - that insulation layer has shrunk!). It didn't come through sitting around. A literal ton of monitors, computers, printers and cabling takes energy to shift! And it certainly warms you up on cold days.

I'm hoping the same principle will kick in tomorrow. We're back up the mountain to do some maintenance and network-expansion jobs. The weather's supposed to be partly cloudy - I'm not so sure.

So there's really only one thing to do... keep working!

Spray 'n ... ?

Just back from the voting thing, Favourite Man noticed a glob of prestik (blutak for some of you, except ours isn't blue) on the car carpet... Eish! That stuff's horrible to get out of anything, and short-pile vehicle furnishings are one of the worst.

Nevertheless, had to be done - so I turned to Google. Which was semi-helpful with hints, but being hard-headed I had to try it my way.

Cue the handy can of Spray 'n Cook.

I use the stuff quite a bit - instead of oil in the pan when making pancakes, to line the usual baking dishes, and yes, for cleaning.

I've used it a couple times to take off sticky labels from computer cases. Spray it on, wait a bit, wipe and scrape and wipe until it's off - repeat as necessary.

Tried it on the prestik - voila! It's off, after some scrubbing.

Zapped the patch with Vanish Carpet spray, and we're good to go. Even if we do smell like something should be baking in the back.

Ag nee man

Seems Deems may be right. I might have torn a ligament... which is very very uncool! I'm fine sitting still, lying still or standing still (though lopsided). Going downstairs is OK provided I choose which leg goes first. Going up is hell. As is the occasional mis-step or slight twist that literally has me yelling. I can walk (with stick) as long as I don't step wrong. But if I do the pain is something else.

Ag nee man - not cool at all.

And tomorrow I have a lot of collections lined up for Virgin Earth - including one at my old workplace. However, I have discovered the usefulness of the Average Teen. The Kid gets to go with me and fetch/carry while I make nicely with the natives.

I'm treating this random injury like any other, which may or may not be a wise thing. I'm still going on with life in general, even if it's a bit slower and more hesitant than usual. I'm keeping the leg moving instead of stiffening up with inaction. I'm doing as little as possible to make things worse (yes, I can drive - but the automatic D2 and not my Olivia). And I'm going to take my rest as I find it.

Doctors? I think not - what could they do that I'm not already doing?