Wednesday, 27 February 2013

ranger romeos

Just came back from what could only be described as an outstanding, amazing, relaxing and fun just over a day spent at Silver Streams Lodge and Spa off the beaten track into the bush on the outskirts of Modimolle.  WOW. 

Now part of our very decadent stay there ..... me and BFF ..... and when I say decadent I mean massive spa bath in our room ...... I lay in there like something out of a Marilyn Monroe movie, flicking foam bath with my toes while being tossed around in the water like a potato boiling in a pot (there has to be a sexier description ???) ...... 5 star cuisine, excellent personalised service because we were 14 guests in total .... heaven. 

And then the game drive.  I have been on a lot of them .... at a great variety of places .... and let me tell you .... this guy knew his story!!  I recently stayed (as a gift) at a very very expensive Game Lodge, and although we had a rhino within touching distance of our vehicle, the ranger did not give close to as much info as this guy did.  I learnt more about buck, giraffes and a helluva lot of trees indigenous to SA than I ever did before .... he drove that Landrover in positions that had us hanging on whilst munching good old SA biltong and gripping the Lodge coolbox so as not to lose that precious cargo.  Nothing like snacks and drinks standing next to a Landrover in the bush at sunset ...... precious SA!!

Now game rangers (and please rangers I mean this with great love and respect and very tongue in cheek) come in 2 types ...... the first is Mr Loverboy who has great knowledge of the bush and wildlife but does spend a huge amount of time checking out the passengers in the rearview mirror.  At the drinks break all the bored housewives, young girls and whoever else can be seen clucking around him while he does this peacock move and checks out the offerings.  And then the 2nd one, also highly skilled and very knowledgeable but makes every single person on the vehicle feel like the most important person he has ever taken on a game drive .... no matter whether old or young, male or female etc .... and this was our ranger yesterday.  Young, lovely face, incredible manner and very attentive. 

And I did ask my BFF halfway through the drive why all rangers always buy their very short khaki shorts one size too small.  She did answer, but it is not for publication in this blog :)  So let us just say they mistake the sizes :)

So now that I know that Waterbuck can go under water so that only their eyes and ears stick out and that they are the most aggressive of all buck, I am back home doing laundry, making supper and thinking how yesterday at this time I already had enjoyed a long, very cold Frozen Vodka Cosmopolitan ....... road trip anyone ? 

till next time
c'est la vie 

Sunday, 24 February 2013

silly sunday stuff

ok sometimes we need to just laugh ..... so tonight i was having a good giggle with these and decided to share them ....... (huge thanks to randy glasbergen who many of these are done by ... love his work!!)

till next time

c'est la vie xxxx

Thursday, 21 February 2013

so not sewing

Yesterday while having a coffee break with colleagues at the office we were speaking about my skirt with its built in petticoat which seemed determined to always be hanging out the sides of the slits in my skirt.  At this point one of my friends commented ...."why don't you just stitch it, or actually put a "now I can't even remember what she called it" at the top at the same time to make it less mobile".

She said it as if she had said why don't you take a pen out of your drawer, or reverse out your parking.
I can bake, I can write, I can fundraise, I can do a lot of stuff.

Sewing is not one of them.  I am officially sewing disadvantaged.

And I am not referring to the fact that I cannot make a dress or fix a problem like my petticoat, I mean that the thought of hemming a school skirt or sewing on a button leaves me traumatised.

When I was younger, much younger, I decided to enrol at Knit Wit .. anyone remember them?  You went to basic sewing classes using only a sort of stretchy fabric.  We had to make a skirt and a dress.  I went to all the classes.  I ended up with neither but my instructor did end up with a severe alcohol problem by the time my lessons were done.  It seemed so easy there ..... loading the cotton into the sewing machine, feeding the fabric slowly under the needle .... so therapeutic, so simple, so relaxing ..... crap - it was stressful and annoying. Once home, despite my best efforts, I could not get the cotton threaded through all those eyes and other up and down pieces all over the sewing machine and my first attempt at "gliding" the fabric under the needle ended in a large thud and that needle holding thingy jamming down against the machine.

I fear the words "mom please shorten my school skirt".  Jess is now almost ending her first term in Matric.  Her one skirt is perfect so we wash it all the time.  Her other one is lying in state since October for me to shorten.  The one that I did took me 16 days.  OK slight stretch of truth but once we had determined the length I had to go slowly around a flippen 6 panel skirt (6 panels are not for novices) and make sure each inch was measured from waistband to hemline so that it was even.  And the sewing!!! I tried first with looooong piece of cotton so I would not have to keep ending and starting.  Great but not so easy to pull a metre of cotton through each time because it hooked on my slops, the couch and the alsation.  So I went with shorter pieces but for some reason my ends and starts kept coming loose and then my worst ... when you pull the cotton through and it makes that knot thing.

So I will be asking my always sewing savy boss to please help me ..... in the time she does it I will still be looking for the sewing box we have.

Now Nic needs a blazer button .... oh heavens ......

Till next time
c'est la vie xxxx

Monday, 18 February 2013

mom's boy

Now I have to tell you, I liked things way more when I was the centre of Nic's attention when it came to females. 
Mom was the best thing since sliced bread!!  I do the driving to and from sport, I see most of the matches, I ensure the cricket whites are bleached white, the soccer kit clean (sometimes the rest of the team's as well), I transfer the pocket money, I buy what he needs for school, I stop for McDonalds when he asks etc etc.  And I work.  Life was perfect. 

Then he went to High School in January.  And this is when my grip started to slip.  Because the enemy or should I say enemies, appeared on the horizon.  GIRLS.

Now Nic used to have rather a "non committal" look on his face when it came to girls.  Lately I have noticed that look is not so "oh I never noticed them" anymore.  I am not happy.  Now sometimes when I am speaking to him I notice he is looking over my shoulder not directly at me and when I turn around am likely to find some girl/s also at the shops with their mom.  Why don't they just concentrate on what they are there to do instead of smiling at my son.  And lengthen your shorts young ladies, for heaven's sake. 

Friday night saw me dropping him off at a U-Party ....... this dropping off in the evening is still a VERY new event in our lives when it comes to him. So having asked him the 125 pre-requisite questions and then having read him the 233 rules en route, he kissed me on the cheek, gave me a hug and hopped out the car.  There were lots of guys.  And lots of girls (damn).  

I parked far enough up in the row so I would not be crowding him while I waited to make sure he found his buddy from school and then as I was going to leave I heard more than one voice shriek his name and from the left a bevy of young girls came careering down the path and launched themselves onto Nic and his friend.  I had to hold myself back from going over and saying "sorry girls, is there a problem here?".  Blushing slightly and dimples on full display Nic in his usual way greeted all politely and then gave a chuckle as he saw me watching him.  "Snip", said the apron string ... "now get into the car ".  

I drove away but the 3 hours to fetching him felt very long as I sat on the couch watching TV with Eug and Jess and wondering if he was having fun (he was).   About an hour after I dropped him I got a whatsapp message ..."thanks for bringing me mom, love you xxxx". 

I stuck my tongue out at the apron string "haha, take that!!" ..... but in my heart I knew ....... he will always be my little boy, but this is only the beginning ..... 

Nic and I @ Nelson Mandela Square ... he has the Winnie the Pooh he blew all his pocket money on for his sister's  bday

Till next time, 
c'est la vie  xxxxx 

Saturday, 16 February 2013

trust me because i promise you

Such a little word.  5 letters.  But such huge meaning.  
Trust me.  I trust you.  Trust them.  Trusting.  Trusted. 
All extensions of those 5 letters.  But all come down to that same thing ....

goes hand in hand with another interesting group of letters. 

I promise. 
 8 letters.  Huge meaning. 
I promise (always). I promise (and actually mean it).  I promise (for the next 24 hours).  I promise (I don't actually). 
Promises. Promised. Promising.  All extensions.  But all comes down to that thing .... 

It is quite amazing how in some circumstances life has become so superficial that those 2 phrases, Trust and I promise, are bandied about so casually. 

In my house when you say "I promise", you better be damn sure you mean it.  In today's world of BBM, Twitter, Whatsapp, Facebook and a growing plethera of social media, very often you can utter that phrase via one of those, and somehow when you don't have to actually look someone in the eye as you utter it, you may stupidly believe that it is ok to just break that promise, or neglect to keep it, or wiggle your way out of it .... it's a growing phenomenon and one I would like to shield my kids from . It's so easy when you are not looking at the person. We need to grow a society in which these values are re-instilled. 

Your word is your honour I tell them.  And when you tell someone "I promise I won't .........." whatever you want to insert in there, take a breath before you say it out loud.  And make sure. You promise in my house and stuff it up willingly ..... not a great decision (trust me). 

And trust?  It's a funny little thing.  You can or you can't.  You do or you don't and I also teach the kids .... when you have promised someone they can trust you, and you break that trust, you better be prepared for a long period of trying to earn that trust again. 

On that subject it leads me to think of that other little word ..... LIE.  But that is a whole other story.  

So just because every day so many people get caught up in other people's webs, doesn't matter whether you are young or old, male or female, single or married, happy or sad, whatever ..... just remember ...

A little girl and her father were crossing a bridge.
The father was kind of scared so he asked his little daughter: 
"Sweetheart, please hold my hand so that you don't fall into the river." The little girl said:
"No, Dad. You hold my hand." 
"What's the difference?", asked the puzzled father. 

"There's a big difference," replied the little girl. 
"If I hold your hand and something happens to me, chances are that I may let your hand go. But if you hold my hand, I know for sure that no matter what happens, you will never let my hand go." I trust you. 

In any relationship, the essence of trust is not in its bind, but in its bond. So put your hand in the hand of the people whom you trust rather than expecting them to hold yours...


Till next time, 
c'est la vie xxxx

Thursday, 14 February 2013

stupid cupid stop picking on me :)

So by now the fat little cherub must have laid down his bow and arrow and be preparing for a good night's rest after what must have been a busy day for him. 

Aaah Valentine's ..... or as a friend of mine put on Facebook today ... "Some people call today Valentine's, I call it Thursday".  

When I went downstairs at the crack of dawn this morning, there on the kitchen table I found a beautiful miniature rose bush, blood red, with a pink bow on it.  As I kissed hubby thank you he reminded me with a very straight face that he would "take the kiss", but had no idea where the rose bush had come from.  I wonder ....... mmmmm 

So now that my kids have gone and come back from school in shades of red and white clothing, returning with a teddy (her) and balloon from an anonymous girl (him) ... we have all been reminded that love is still very much alive and well in the hearts of all ....... and romance ...... well, who doesn't like a little romance?

Of course my day would not be complete without a little Valentine trivia: 

*  More than 36 million heart shaped boxes of chocolates and sweets are sold world-wide on Valentine's Day each year

*  Women still purchase more than 80 % of all Valentine's gifts

*  The City of Verona, where Romeo and Juliet lived, receive more than 1000 letters each Valentine's Day ... all addressed to Juliet 

*  Richard Cadbury developed the first Valentine's box of candy in the 1800's

*  More than 9 million pet owners worldwide buy their pet a Valentine's gift 

*  In the middle ages men and women drew names from a pot to see who their Valentine would be.  Then they would wear that person's name on their sleeve for a week (hence the saying "wearing your heart on your sleeve")

*   Casanova "The World's Greatest Lover" ate chocolate to make him virile.  (So why is the world stuffing around with Viagra?)

*  More than 220 000 wedding proposals happen on Valentine's Day 

*  More than 15 % of the women in the world send themselves flowers on Valentine's Day (ok that is just sad)

*  More than 1.6 billion Valentine's Cards change hands each year 

So now that I have parted with this information which adds no value to your life whatsover, let me leave you with this thought: 

♥ Find arms that will hold you at your weakest, eyes that will see you at your ugliest, & a heart that will love you at your worst - - Then you have found true love.  
(thank you www.ilovehim24)

Till next time
c'est la vie xxxxxxx


Tuesday, 12 February 2013

simply socks

In our laundry I have a plastic tub and in that tub are 28 socks.  Not 14 pairs of socks. Not 28 pairs of socks.

Just 28 socks.  Unrelated socks. Single socks.

Now I am positive that I purchase socks in pairs.  And I am positive that my family wear the socks in pairs.  I don't think anyone in this house goes out with odd socks and I have never seen any family member leave here with only one sock on.

I have considered that perhaps when my family are en route home they take off one sock and toss it out the window.  Or toss it in the bin when they get home, but I am pretty sure they arrive home with and remove 2 socks.

So I decided to address the problem at Laundry level.  I instructed aforementioned family members to  put their two socks into a pair inside each other and put in the basket.  When washing I will unravel so I am sure that both socks hit the water.   Now this appeared to work initially ... I would ensure that when they came out the machine they hung side by side like a happy couple on the line and they got packed away as such.  Then the freaky sock syndrome started .... When I hang up washing the happy couple have been separated ....and the one part of the couple is m.i.a.

And therein lies the question that every sane laundry-doer around the globe asks ...where the hell do socks go in the wash?  And where do they go between coming out the machine and going into the sock drawer?

So in desperation I have made a more permanent solution .... When I unwind the socks at the machine I staple the pair together and chuck into water.  They get washed as a couple, removed and hung up as a couple.  When they get rolled into pairs a quick snip with a staple remover ends the process.

Now I just have to remember where I put the flippen stapler remover .........

Monday, 11 February 2013

hot or not

Now they say beauty is in the eye of the beholder.  I am really interested in this.  Some take that beauty to be simply on the outside, some judge beauty by what is on the inside, some judge by a mixture of the two. 

Some find traits such as warmth, kindness, empathy, honesty, a sense of humour to be amongst the most beautiful traits, whilst for others it is only the outer "package" of a person that makes them attractive. What you can show off to your friends.

What about decency, being true to your word, not shunting others around simply because you think you can etc etc ........well those lie pretty high up on my list of what makes people, both men and women, attractive.  If you are just an all round decent human being, that is kind and gentle and caring and you mix this with a mischievious glint in your eye, then I will be hooked. If you can not deliberately hurt me in any way ..... I will be your friend for life!

But just in the interest of playfulness and judging mainly from the outside, I will answer some questions sent to me recently in an email by a good friend.  Tongue in cheek let me tell you who is who for me in the looks game:

All time forever and ever knock your breath away

Ryan Gosling (he does not even have to speak, can just stand there)
Matthew McConaughey (that drawl, those dimples)
Johnny Depp (that voice ... in Chocolat I loved him ... those eyes)
Richard Gere (shall we dance .....)
Zack Efron (yes cradlesnatcher I know!)
Steve Caroll (yes that may be weird, but I just love his face)
and the guy from The Good Wife ...Will ..... he is just hot to me. 

And the girls?

Reese Witherspoon (she would be top of my list)
Jennifer Garner (cheekbones to match Johnny Depp)
Rachel Mc Adams (always looks mischievious)
Ashley Judd (her hair just kicks ass)
Meg Ryan (before she did that weird thing with her lips and Collagen)
and then Sandra Bullock as my hubby would be so sad if I left his girlfriend off

Footballers ..... hot, hot, hot


oh sorry .... you want me to name others as well?

And then of course across the board there are the "pretty"boys ... Beckham, Renaldo et al.  Just don't do it for me.  

So who would make your list of who is hot and who is not?

Till next time 
c'est la vie xxxx

Thursday, 7 February 2013

can i NOT have the bill please

So today i had a mini disaster.  One of those that sound like a real "sob story" .... ridiculous but very very true.  It just begs to be a blog ......

So I drop Nic off at his club soccer practice and because I have about 80 mins to kill I decide to go and sit at the shopping centre opposite the field and have coffee while I get an hour of work in on my IPad. 

All went well.  I got a respectable amount of work done, I drank 2 great cappuccinos and it was a nice quiet "gather my thoughts" time. 

Then it went wrong. 

I called for the bill, lent over to take out my purse from my bag .... my purse, where the hell was my purse?  I told myself to relax as it had to be there but you can only re-pack a space so many times to realise that your large pink and orange purse is definitely not there.  I had taken it out to make a copy of my ID and left it on my desk!  As I was now still only moderately hyperventilating, I left my book and something else at the table and told them I was going to fetch something in my car (no I did not run off ...... could not anyway ..... no parking money).  I went to the car and searched through every nook and cranny, Nic's blazer pockets, school pants pockets, school bag, sports bag everywhere .... with growing desperation.  After this FBI search I had about R7.60 in 20c and 10c coins. 

Back to the restaurant .... now sort of midway to a panic attack.  Continue the money search in my handbag and am giggling hysterically as I find another R1.45 in there ..... yes!!!! no!!!! What now ..... I offer to pay for one half of the first cappuccino and then ask them to return R5 for the parking? 

My BFF is way too far away.  And busy with her ill father.  My parents are way too far away and it is peak hour traffic.  My friend who coaches at another club is nearer but will never be able to get away mid-training.  Another friend who does work in the area is not answering.  I phone someone else I know in the area.  She is in Jhb.  I call another friend ..... she is on voicemail.  I call the soccer mom whose son plays with Nic .... it rings and rings. 

The waiter is starting to look nervous as I recount the huge pile of 20c, 10c and 5c coins.  He can see there is a "situation" building here.  I smile confidently and scoop all the coins into my bag ... it sounds like a casino machine paying out. 

By now it is 530pm and the soccer is finished.  So am I. 

I realise that I may have to phone hubby (who works 90 mins away).... walk to soccer and get Nic, come back, have dinner and wait the 2 hours till he gets there.  This seems a bit complicated. 

I Whatsapp the coach in charge of the soccer, I am actually blushing I feel like such an idiot.  My message is not delivered.  I have now moved to full blown panic and the waiter himself is blowing into a paper bag now. 

Just then Nic's one soccer coach puts on his phone.  The message is delivered.  "I am on my way, sit there" he says.  3 mins later the soccer mom calls .... "I am coming" she says.  I tell her to wait as rescuer number 1 is closer. 

He is laughing when he walks in.  I am dying I am so embarrassed.  He pays the bill.  He pays the parking.  He assures me that I am NOT the most problematic mom in the club .... 

I fetch Nic.  The soccer moms are crying with laughter.  I am just crying. Initially not with laughter. 

Moral of the story?  Carry your purse and always have the coach's number. :)

Till next time
c'est la vie xxxx

Wednesday, 6 February 2013

driving miss jessie

Driving lessons.  yes I am, after ALL these months, in fact more than a year, back at this subject.  

The drivee, namely Jess, is now 18.  Which means she can legally get a licence.  We need the learner's licence, 2 ID photos, her ID book with a copy, the money and her to make an appointment to get it done.  We do have the 2 ID photos, her ID book with a copy, the money and her.  We also know where to make the appointment.  What we do not however have, is a learner's licence.  Because we lost it?  No ..... because the drivee, namely Jess, has not taken the test yet. The test which one can take when one turns 17. 

Now understand, I am quite happy to cart her around.  In fact, more than happy not to cut this apron string yet.  But ...... when she gets into chef school, and starts in January, she will have to be mobile as the class and restaurant hours are such that she will need her own wheels .,.,, and be able to operate them :)

Taking the learner's test has not been without hiccups .... for the first 5 months of being 17 she was waiting for her ID book to arrive, then we had to go and make an appointment ... on a weekday .... first thing.  Every time I could go, she could not miss the first lesson of the day, when holidays came ..... well they came .... and went.  Then her BFF was coming along and I moved the date 3 times with work committments, then BFF lost her ID book so we waited in the hope she found it.  Then Dec came and the municipal offices closed.  Then January came and there has not been a morning that she felt comfortable arriving late for her lessons in Matric.  

However today I realised that in at least 9 months she must have got her learners and her licence and get comfortable driving in traffic .... because traffic she will find plenty of going on the highway to be at class by 730am daily. 

So her and dad's driving lessons will continue.  Apparently he is "the patient one" pffffft.  I am plenty patient ..... the drivee gets all worked up, arms waving, glaring at me, gets out the car, back in, more glaring.  So it's  back to weekends driving around the school grounds and once we have that elusive learners we can start letting her drive on the road.  The real road.  

Gulp.  Maybe it is better if hubby does this one. 

Nic ....... let's go buy your cricket bag you and I. 

Till next time,

c'est la vie xxxx

Friday, 1 February 2013

fitting in the fitting room

Now who the hell designed clothing fitting rooms?  A total moron is my guess!

There is nothing, and I mean NOTHING flattering about trying anything on in these rooms irrespective of your height, build, sex or style of dressing. Now most of them have curtains, usually with rings on a rail.  For some bizarre reason these curtains don't all close to the end of the rail so you always have the 5 - 10cm peephole (although a few stores have gone deluxe and have wooden doors) and then there are those with the doors that come sort of midcalf.  I especially don't enjoy standing in the queue and watching other people step out of their clothing in that 30cm opening at the bottom of the door --- great planning whoever you are!!

Now once in there, clutching your little perspex number (I went in with Jess the other day, she got a number 3 for her 3 items of clothing and I got a number 0 because I walked with......... I mean what they going to do?  Frisk me?), you hang your choices up on those little hook things and then the fun REALLY begins.  

Lighting is important.  Preferably fluorescent tubes or square lights, or even better spotlights,,,,,, because don't we all know how fantastic our skin tone looks in this kind of light and there is nothing like spotlights to light up the previously unlit areas of the body.  Bit like the CSI morgue .... but in a store.  So once you are looking as sallow and drawn as possible you can face the mirrors.  Long, and for some reason not always perfectly undistorted, they adorn the walls on up to three surfaces ensuring in that way that the only angle you cannot see is the absolute top of your head.  More than once I have glanced over my shoulder and thought "What the hell is that", only to realise that it's me. 

Now when you try something on I find that the ratio of "Wow I look fantastic" to "Wow I look like the Oros man" are usually 1:100 ....... and I am not even talking about swimsuits yet.  Swimsuits and fitting rooms are a whole other blog. 

Now do yourself a favour and stand outside a fitting room .... there are of course the gorgeous youngsters who skip out looking delighted, the uber-buff gym men and women who saunter out looking happy with their purchases and then the rest of the people .,.,.,.,,.,, putting their perspex 4 back on the rack whilst slamming 4 outfits onto that rail at the entrance and muttering "smaller sizes of today, crappy colour, stupid style" etc. 

So I have learnt.  Changerooms are for shoes.  You don't get naked.  You look great in all 3 mirrors.  You usually pick the right size.  The lighting makes no difference ........ hell, try your clothes on at home.  That's what the return policy is for. 

Till next time,
c'est la vie xxxxx

Okay so lets move to another province

“The company feels that there are great growth opportunities for it in the Cape” says hubby whilst we are sitting on the stoep of our chalet...