Showing posts from July, 2013

Finding your happy places

What do you love in life?  Have you thought about it.  When it comes to a lifetime of work and dreams and people, tepid is not a good idea.  Nor is hot, enough.  You have to live and work and love with passion and a ridiculous amount of joy.  On Friday night at a soup evening someone told me that I enter a room with a bang.  I loved it.  I would rather do that than slide in like a damp squid.   How much time do you spend doing the things you love?  You need to, no matter your age, grab and hold onto something that makes you feel happy.  Whether it be a job, a book, a person, a life experience, whatever.  I am unashamedly spontaneous and enthusiastic.  I no longer make excuses for it.  I have found a whole lot of new things and people this year that make me want to rush out and completely emerse myself in it and them.  I call it my happy places.  I don't want to get old wondering if I should have, could have and all the other have's.  I want to know that I did.  I don't wan…

No. New word for Me.

Now I have never been really good with the word No.  
My family tell me that I am exceptionally good at Yes and seem to have no ability whatsover to keep my hands down when someone asks questions such as "Who can help with ....", "Who is able to ........", "Who can find time to ......" and a myriad of other such questions. 

I don't mean the Yes and No answers that one gives in your chosen daily bread and butter jobs, I don't mean the Yes and No answers that my kids get when they ask me questions on a number of subjects ... "No you may not get your nose pierced and a tattoo of Who's your Mother on your arm". 

Now the problem with this is that you open yourself to misuse and abuse of your willingness to help.  Some people assume that you are the "go to" person .... permanently.  And I am, but I am taking a bold step in the No direction by now being more selective about my yes' ... simply for that one word I love so much ... …

Rumours ...... Tales by Tongue

The rumour mill ….. aaah that ever churning, ever flowing channel of miscommunication and misinformation to which so many people have a lifelong subscription.
How is it that some people simply want to hear something, anything, as long as they can repeat it to a myriad of other people, thereby discrediting someone, or harming them verbally, without even stopping to consider the harm they do, or the untruths and half-truths they carry forward?
How is it that some people simply want to say something, anything as long as …………. repeat paragraph above
I have a friend, about whom a stupid and senseless rumour was started recently.   It was wrong, it was misinformed and it was totally unsupported.  But the person who started it did so anyway and of course nothing like a juicy, incorrect story to spread like wildfire.  Did anyone take the time to verify the story with my friend?  No, because they did not have time to stop in their marathon of repetition cycle.  The person was then given the…

4020 seconds aka 67 minutes ..... is it enough?

4020 seconds.  Literally the whole country raced to do good for 4020 seconds last week.  For those of you battling …. I am referring to the world renowned 67 minutes for Mandela.
Am I a fan of his? Yes.  Am I a fan of the 67 minute idea? Mostly.  Why only mostly?  Simple – I work for an NPO.
An NPO that looks after mentally disabled adults and many of those are adult orphans of all ages.  And they are completely cared for by us.  The financial responsibility falls to us and our generous donors.  But for most of our precious people, charity is not just money, not just how they are financially taken care of …… to many or almost all of these spectacularly special people it is about love ….. and attention …….. the visitors who spend time with them, read to them, paint their nails, entertain them, treat and spoil them, bring them a little something, share a little something with them, take a few of them on an outing etc etc.  TIME. 
And therein lies my “mostly” answer.  Now don’t get me wr…

welcome to hell ... aka the licence department

Went to renew my driver's licence today.  And get an appointment for Jess' learners.  We went to Rayton, simply because everyone else that has been there in the past month or so has had a quick in, quick out experience.  So with great enthusiasm and a spring in our step we arrived there just before 10am.  

First off we met the car guard, who was an absolute treasure.  After guiding us into a parking, he enquired what we were there for.  He then told us exactly where to go in the building for both Jess and I, including which counter and the whole process.  He also enquired about photos and when he heard we still needed them he took us over to the "inhouse" (aka inside a Mazda 323) photo guy.  He had it all set up .... a white background hammered onto a large tree.  A plastic chair and a delightful manner about him.  We sat, he said "Look happy", took the pics, climbed into aforementioned Mazda for development .... and quick quick handed them to us in a little…

Warmth Empathy Dedication Respect Acceptance and Genuineness .... and exhaustion and tears

So my counsellors course at Lifeline via my parish,  is proceeding nicely.  Sometimes scary, sometimes enthralling, sometimes confusing, sometimes witty, but never ever boring. 

Having survived the Personal Growth portion of the course ..... which is somewhat like walking through a minefield whilst simultaneously having your eyes poked with a fondue fork and as an aside someone hitting you in the chest, I emerged wiser, stronger, more confident, as witty as ever but just with waaaaay less baggage, out the other side.  I also cried ..... the volume would have filled 6 medium sized buckets.  

Now comes the nitty gritty ..... the learning of the skills needed to be a counsellor.  Contrary to popular belief, in the real world, we don't just go out there, grab someone who looks as if they need a helping hand, slam them into a chair, mumble "whatsa matter" and dish out a lot of unsolicited advice, give them a slap on the rump and say "now off you go and smile".  Only n…

L is for Licence. L is also for Liquor.

Now many of you would have read the blog that I wrote last year in September for  It was subsequently published in the December issue of the Good Housekeeping SA magazine.  It dealt with teaching Jess to drive.  

As she must imminently get her licence, her dad was tasked to take over with teaching her to drive.  Apparently I do not have the "correct personality type" to teach her.  Pfffft.  He on the other hand, apparently does (this is the same man who was very impatient helping me to get my contact lenses out). So they go driving every weekend, on the backroads, around and around the large school property etc etc.  They always return smiling and still friends.  That is not normal. 

So from Friday he was in P.E. on business and when I dropped Nic at CBC yesterday afternoon for the informal soccer club, Madam the 18 year old then said she would show me how she drives around the school grounds with dad.  I hopped into the passenger seat ..... and then it started.�…

The tale of two contact lenses, two eyes and a novice

I got contact lenses today.  Now that in itself is nothing ridiculously amazing BUT ..... I have worn glasses for 20 years and now at the age of 47 got my very first pair of contact lenses.  Feel like a child who got their first bicycle.  
The optometrist worked wonders and they were ready 3 days after my eye test.  They closed at 530pm today.  I got there 535pm after phoning them and asking them to please wait as I was soooo excited.  They were even excited at my joy.  Now since I had my Lifeline course class at 7pm, all I had to do was go home and put them in my eyes.  As you can see, waiting for later was not an option for me. 
So I go into the bathroom, close the door, clean my hands, chase dog out, close door again, and stare at the two little sealed packets of liquid and lenses.  The 1st problem was opening the sealed packet, it was a challenge.  The 2nd problem came once I had opened it ... it was filled with liquid ... I could not see the lens.  I dug around blindly in the liqui…

Service with a Glare

Now maybe it is not the case at all post offices, but the one that I frequent has a delightful similarity across all staff ..... they are dreadfully unhappy, insufferably rude and obviously hate their jobs. 

I have reason to go there quite regularly.  Maybe I simply pick the wrong days every time.  The first time I went armed with two slips and my ID book.  I had signed the slips, entered my ID number, given a thumbprint and a spit sample.  She did not greet me, simply snatching the slip from me as I said good afternoon.  She looked at me with disdain ... "is this you", she said, looking at the slip and ID.  I replied in the affirmative as the slip and the ID had the same number and the photo is clearly me.  She consulted a higher authority (aka the other unhappy teller) and decided she would trust me with MY parcel.  It got thumped down and the "thank you, goodbye" I expected was instead replaced with her filing her nails. 

The next time I had to enquire about a par…