seriously not cycling

Yesterday one of my closest friends rode in the 94.7 cycle challenge.  In the searing heat.  On a bike naturally.  On hot tar.  In lycra sort of material.  I applaud him. 

Now there are a number of reasons why I did not ride in the cycle race.

• Firstly I do not own a bike.  My hubby had one that I rode on now and then.  Actually it was quite a bit more then and hardly ever now.  
• When I park my car at work and get out in the searing heat, I find it challenging to walk from my car to my office.  I don't know if I could even cycle from my car to my office. 
• You have to get up really really early to train in the weeks and months prior to the race.  I find it really really difficult to drag myself out of bed to brush my teeth, let alone get on a bike. 
• I am always looking for my cellphone, glasses, car keys, office keys and parking mall tickets.  Having a bike means there would just be one more thing that I could not find in the morning. 
• When doing the Spar Ladies Race, my greatest aggravation is the fact that the back of the queue at the starting line is about 3km from the actual starting line.  This almost doubles the distance of the race.  In a cycle race of this magnitude, I would in other words, already have to drop out of the race due to exhaustion, roughly 2m after passing the starting line. 
• And then there is the stopping.  I seem to be incapable of braking and getting my feet onto the ground timeously when on a bike.  I either bring them down too early, thereby almost ripping them off at the ankles, or I bring them down too late, which means the bike stops and you simply just keel over, bike and all.  Tar hurts. 

And then lastly.  The cycling outfit.  I mean seriously???? Cycling pants are right up there with Speedos.  Getting me into the cycling outfit I would imagine would be almost as much of a challenge as getting me into a wetsuit.   I would be so fear struck to walk in front of people, I would be the only one cycling in jeans and a tshirt. 

So I will cheer, encourage and be excited for my friends.  I will post their photos and praise them.  I will lovingly stroke their bikes and be enthusiastic when their numbers etc arrive for the race.  I will not cycle.  Some things are just meant to have spectators. 

Till soon 

c'est la vie xxx

remain or retreat?

So what do you do when you feel like you are giving a lot of yourself to someone or someones (is there such a word) but what you get back is not a lot, or maybe it is a lot, but superficial, just on the surface kind of sharing, without depth which does not mean it is sharing.

Do you a) walk away, hard as it is  b) hire a hitman  c) grin and bear it  d) you have no advice to give me

I realised today, without warning, like a thunderbolt hitting me, that sometimes we get so swept up in giving of ourselves and so swept up in someone's accepting this and joy in this, that when you suddenly stand still you realise ... wait a minute .... what am I getting back?  And I am not speaking about financial rewards, or favours or gifts or anything material, I am talking about giving of yourself, your thought processes, your ideas, true sharing of who you are.

Some of us do that.  It is who we are.  If you are close to me.  You get me.  Heart and soul.  

So where does that leave me .............. I actually have no idea what to do.  But do something I must .... either remedy or retreat.

And so I do what I have been taught.  Process and decide.

Till soon
c'est la vie

Simply Smiling and Sweating

Zumba.  The word conjures up images of hip swaying dancing, bongo drums, feathers, beaded tops and smouldering Latin men.
Now come down to earth ........

Zumba ..... Is actually aerobics done to gyrating Latin American music .... Think lunges to Latino music .... Jumping to Jennifer Lopez.  It is for all ages, all sexes .... But it is intense ... We sweat, we sway ..... We love the song Look at My Body ..... I workooooooout.

Zumba is also fun, social, toning, heart racing, invigorating ..... Along with other words like panting, dying, crawling, drinking litres of water, falling into your vehicle afterwards etc.  But smiling.

There are weeks when I carry a copy of my Last Will and Testament in my car cubbyhole so that my daughter, dancing next to me, has easy access to it when I go into cardiac arrest.  Luckily our priest lives next to the hall in case of emergency and I have him on speed dial.

And then there is Simone aka our Ringmaster, Instructor, Chief Whip.  She is Fun with a capital F.  Fit and full of enthusiasm she drives us through the moves ... Reminding us to smile.  She thinks up a theme for every week which we enthusiastically embrace.  We have gone through Traditionally SA, Carnival, All in Pink!, Bows Galore and this week Dress to Match your Personality, which should be fun.  I was planning on demure and quiet .... When Simone finished laughing she said perhaps I misunderstood the Theme.

Now let's be clear.  I hate gym.  I have all kinds of body issues which find me going around that rotating entrance bar thing only to keep going and wind myself back out again.  Gym clothes are made it seems for thin people and I don't enjoy going on the treadmill whilst my entire body parts shift from their intended location to any other location.  Then they suggested the rowing machine.  Listen peeps if I had a burning desire to row I would get an inflatable boat and do it in my pool.
Ditto for machines where you lie on your back whilst pushing a square, weight loaded metal thingy into the air.  I can lie on my lounge floor and push my Alsatian up should the need arise.

So Zumba it is, every week.  It is exercise.  It does not require a gym bunny look or outfit.

And we smile.  I never smile on the rowing machine.

Till next time
c'est la vie xxx

me + samsung S3 = disaster

My dear Samsung S3 is now hanging on by a thread.  A tiny one.  After my blog a couple of weeks ago that I had managed to set the corner of my 11 month old phone alight, by putting it down on my novel, on a table full of burning candles and then dozing off, much to the amusement of the local Vodacom store, I now managed to accidentally drop it 2 days ago and naturally it will not fall with the cover facing down ... oh no .... it has to land screen down ... and shatter the screen .... only for Samsung to tell me the screen is not covered by the warranty and costs ..... wait for it ..... R2 100 to replace.  That is on top of the R2 000 I paid when the phone was 6 months old and their wonderful S3 screen stopped working ... also that was not covered .... in case it was dropped .... and that time it wasn't ... so now 11 months after I bought it, I have spent almost the same value on repairs.  Go Samsung!!

So now I may be forced to seek "alternate sources" of phone repair people, may be cheaper, may last less time, but will at least not look like it does now .... a professional businesswoman arriving at a meeting with the corner of her phone burnt and her screen shattered .... really screams "successful" to those I am in contact with. 

So now I am on the prowl for a phone .... as my phone is also my office, it has to have all the bells and whistles, but as an NPO worker it has to come at not all the bells and whistles price. 

So if you win one, have one lying around, donate one, find one lying somewhere weird, manufacture them or whatever else option you have ... please contact the writer, all solutions accepted with love. 

till next time, 
c'est la vie xxx 

Christmas comes early ..... why?

And boom ..... the silly season is blossoming in the stores already.  As early as the second week in October the shopping malls, retailers and anyone else who owns a piece of tinsel jumped onto the bandwagon.  And I still don't get it.  I would if the packing out of the trees and baubles and the playing of the Boney M rendition of Drummer Boy started on the 1st of December .... but October?  I arrived at a popular mall in the Eastern suburbs on 11 October and lo and behold at the entrance, an obscenely high fir Christmas tree adorned in splendour, glittering in the blazing South African sun whilst the faux snow looked sad.  Probably embarrassed .... don't get a lot of snow in Lynnwood Road methinks. Especially in October. 

And then the chocolates.  Lindt really has gone all out ..... Reindeer, Father Christmas, Baubles ... you name it ..... available in the entrance of every more fancy supermarket ... displayed proudly, at a premium price ..... in October.  Along with Christmas biscuits, fruits, candies, mince pies, decorations, more faux snow and so on. 

Here is a plan.  Why don't we put up our trees at the end of September, then we can beat the deadline of 1 October.  Faux snow spray is available readily, let us cover our windows so that the 35 degree South African sun can bake it into the glass.  Let's start the mayhem of spending .... overspending ..... as much money as we can on lavish gifts and don't forget the food~!!!! 

Or here is a really stupid idea ...... let's put our trees up in December, let's play meaningful Christmas carols, let's have a nativity scene and remind our children of the purpose, let's use some of our money for those who are struggling in life .... and there are many ...... let's eat less and share more ..... let's open our homes on Christmas Eve to someone that has no-one and would be alone that night ..... let's take time to go to church, even more than once, let's pray for the very reason that we have this celebration in the first place.  Let's read the bible about this wonderful moment. 

Let us put Christ back into Christmas.  And sit with joy under our tree, and share our gifts and have a reasonable meal ..... but let us do it all for the right reason. 

Till next time
c'est la vie xxx  

did you hear .......

Rumours.  Half truths.  Half stories.  Supposed facts. One-sided versions.  Call them what you like ..... we all hear them and we mostly repeat them.  Sometimes without even considering what we know about the person as a fact, without thinking for a second about whether or not it may be true ...... Scandal is such a fun thing .... and the bigger the group, the more ears to listen ... 

Recently a friend of mine got entwined in such a little game ..... one or two people who think they know it all ....... narrow minded ...... uninformed, unenlightened, half facts and half truths.  People who break the rules and then try and enforce them afterwards.  A dangerous game for all.  People who don't deal one on one with the involved parties but prefer to use the "loudhaler" method ..... Blurt out your correctness and other people's shortcomings to all and sundry.  And one person tells another .... and another ...... and each one adds a little 1% "new bit" to the story.  It is this kind of recklessness that leads to pandemonium, misperceptions, incorrect judgements and unnecessary drama .... 

Ivory towers are very much in the forefront of my mind ...... doing something in a new way, or a different way or a more modern way is not always a bad thing ..... much is to be learnt by keeping up with the times.  But often those in the ivory towers have to be dragged along kicking and screaming. 

And so it is easier to take the moral high ground and make someone else the scapegoat. .... to cover our shortcomings but projecting them on someone else. 

Makes me angry ...... this person did not deserve it ......... but karma ...... man she is a real bitch. 

till next time

c'est la vie xx

back in time in a mall

Today I had reason to stop at the Tramshed Centre in the very middle of town.  Now I had not been there since I was studying in the 80's and this was then a close centre for me to frequent.  This was long before the Brooklyn Mall / Menlyn / Kolonnade era. People shopped in the middle of town ... that is where the OK Bazaars, big Edgars and Greatermans / Garlicks was.  

The shop I had to pop into has only one branch, in the Tramshed, and it was with some trepidation that I entered their covered parking.  When I had walked down the steps, doing all the ridiculous normal things .... clutching my bag, clutching my cellphone and trying to remember where I was putting my parking ticket, I did notice that I stuck out somewhat in the mall.  But I was surprised ..... there are not a lot of shops .... but there are some of the brand ones and it was really clean and neat and obviously had the "prerequisite for malls in October" Christmas decorations which just gets my hackles rising.  I soon relinquished my white knuckled grip on all my belongings and relaxed my bambi in headlights look when I realised that although the location was not ideal, the shop I needed was there, and so was I.  The salesman was accommodating and very friendly, the service was quick and the only shock came when I exited the parking to find that 0-2 hours comes at a whopping R10 .... way more than any of the upper class malls in the Eastern suburbs.  I had only been in there 15 mins after all.  The cashier at the booth told me it was high to keep people out who use the parkade as their daily parking place when they work in the area. 

When I drove out the parking I thought how sad it is that our kids never got the experience of "going to town".  I can remember as a child my mom had an account at Greatermans / Garlicks .... it was an old fashioned department store ... taking up 3 levels and having all the fancy hosiery, glove, perfume and other departments.  Naturally it came with a tea room where we always went for creamy milkshakes and lunch.  They played soft classical background music throughout the store and salesladies were extremely well groomed and polite, always in the background, never in your face ..... the face cream from the Dead Sea / Perfume people who lurk in the passages in malls and jump out accosting you with their samples could take a lesson from this.  Another outing was with my grose ouma ... she had an account at Uniewinkels ... a similar multi-level department store and I could spend forever going from department to department looking at the goodies.  Around the corner from it (in an arcade leading up from Church Str) was Polly's Tearoom, the kind you read about in novels, and this was a regular spot for ouma and I. No wonder I am so coffee mad today.  Kids don't know about the OK Bazaars and their restaurant in the basement that made the best pies and gravy you ever tasted, or riding on the bus to town and then catching it back from Church Square, about movies at the Oscar theatre in Sunnyside and bowling at Kingsley Centre ..... somehow it was so less complicated then. 

Till next time
c'est la vie xxx