THE dress.THAT dress.

 So. I have a dress for the wedding. 

You may wonder why this requires its own line, like an announcement. When the mother of the groom goes to look for, and buys, her dress only 8 weeks before the wedding and 7 weeks before she leaves for abovementioned wedding, everyone gets a little “twitchy”. It is not like I did not have 18 months to pick one. 

Now we all know the drill. And by the way if you are perfect sized, slim, thin, curvy and sexy or any of those, then the next paragraph will not apply to you. I generally feel that what you like becomes your only real choice as everything looks good, one way or another, as opposed to us who not only have to try and choose what we like but also have a challenge around what looks good on us. Because my shape is round. 

Number one when your son announces the wedding date - you immediately decide that you are not going to look fat on the wedding photos. This is a worldwide phenomenon. You then start one of many diets, each one stressing you a bit more. The date gets closer and closer, the pressure gets more and more and before you look again you are eating vast amounts of chocolate and are no further, or in my case, just lost 5kg. You know what? It actually doesn’t matter. Unless of course you cannot find a dress you feel great in 😂 - then it would matter a great deal. 

So over time I collected 347 pictures from Temu, 809 off the internet and the infamous “mother of the groom” pages and 12839 random pics from social media, where I liked the top and not the bottom of a dress and vice versa and then also, after having wanted a certain colour all along, jumped around with what colour I was now lured by.  All this because due to a clash, the original choice I was going to have made, and wanted for the past 2 years, could not be used, for a few reasons. 

Now a side comment about any website featuring “mother of the groom” dresses. In these photos it seems that all mothers of grooms are aged 80 and above. All of them want the twin set and pearls or long dresses with a very certain stereotypical top, and have their hair up in severe chignons, wear elaborate family jewels around their necks and look like lead characters in either Bridgeton or The Adams Family. It also seems that you need to have a certain haughty look about you. I do not comply with any of the above. My hair usually looks like its normal I just got out of bed and was then driven over by a lawnmower style.  I don’t do haughty and I am not over 80. The other options bizarrely seemed to have women more in my age group with very wide satin skirts and slits in them up to their panty line. I would end up looking part hooker and part mental patient. My son would be mortified. 

And so I decided to have a dress made. Now my almost daughter-in-law has a seamstress mom. Not just any little seamstress. One whose work is beautiful, especially evening dresses and wedding dresses. She made all the dresses for the Bridesmaids and Matron of Honour. Given that she lives in Pretoria, and me in the Cape, the back and forward visiting of the kids just never worked out for getting my dress made by her. Which would have been a fantastic solution as she knows me well. So began the search for a seamstress in my area. Now I am not sure what illusion I was under, but my total budget seemed to mostly be one that covered only the material. That became a protracted crash and burn scenario. 

After the 300th person I interact with at work became concerned about my lack of dress, my one close friend, in a stricter voice, said, “right - Monday we are going to Canal Walk when you finish work and we are not coming back until we have a dress”. Now that was the kind of instruction I needed. So on the appointed day off we went, her and her lovely daughter, and me - the mother of the groom. Next thing we were pulling up at the very very swish entrance to Bride & Co. I felt a little intimidated as we walked into what can only be described as something similar to those stores you see in TV reality shows. Hundreds of dresses, packed colour by colour in every colour under the sun. An elegant saleslady approached enquiring which selection we wished to look at. Mother of the Groom / Bride is such a section. She glanced over at me, asked me to turn, didn’t ask my size and glided off to a long rail of dozens of stunning evening dresses.  She took off 3 dresses from different places, all with the wow factor, and said she felt these were the best start for me, covering one which was her first choice, one her second choice and one not suitable but needed to be seen. 

Now it is important for me to mention at this junction, that all my jeans come from PEP. They are the best for me in every configuration, regular, skinny, stonewashed, dark blue - the whole shebang. And I am a wear sneakers 5 days a week girl. So when I discovered that the changing area was a small row of changing rooms, from which you walked onto a large wooden floored platform, in the middle of which was one of those round things you stand on with your dress with mirrors everywhere and perfect lighting, I unashamedly admit that I did give a little shriek, then peeped  around the cubicle curtain and said to my little gang - “it’s just like a movie”.  There was giggling, from me. A lot. The saleslady commented that it was lovely to see someone “so unashamedly excited”. A few steps down are elegant couches where your “style gang of friends” sit and look and comment and suggest. So for clarity - me on the circle. Renet and Maree on the couches. 

I chose the first dress to try on because it was very me, and when the lady took it off the rack it was like she knew me personally - because in the two days before the shopping trip, Renet had seen something similar elsewhere and I liked it. Similar but not the same by any means in terms of fabric and finish. Bride & Co only make 2 dresses of every size in every style. This dress was whispering - “I’m the one”, before I even took it off the hanger. Swishy, soft, shimmery, elegant and a colour that I did not originally have in my wheelhouse. I put it on and I just knew. More giggling as I alighted from the changeroom. I turned to the mirror and I felt like a fairy princess. The cut, the shimmer, the colour - it was everything I wanted. My squad were delighted. We just all seemed to know. 209 photos were taken. Renet said that I had to try on the other two as we needed some context. Number 2 was a challenge. It only closed three quarter way and we realised that it was just “too heavy” for me. You needed more height to carry it off and no-one ever calls me tall. The saleslady said that she needed to show me that the heavier satin was not for me. Number 3 looked beautiful, until I had it on. We looked at each other and uttered the same description at the same time. So back into number 1 we went. I knew. 

However my ever practical squad suggested we go to the store in the Mall which had the dress she had sent me the pic of. Now please understand. After Bride & Co, this was very different. The dress would not have been exclusive. We were handed it and I went into the changeroom. After 3 minutes of laughter I realised that whilst I had it on, I appeared to have gone wrong somewhere (it had layers and draping in all kinds of places) and was unable to lift my arms or turn my neck. Enter Renet to assist. She decided that the floppy bit on the left needed to be dragged over my head. It didn’t, and the end result had us shrieking so loudly that the shop assistant asked if she needed to come in and help. However my mind was made up. A quick stop at another store for a beautiful wrap, a celebratory lunch and back we went to the original dress. And lo and behold - winking to us from a nearby shelf was the most perfectly sized and chic bling handbag for the dress. I put it on again and Renet made a video just for Nic showing him his mom and talking just to him (he was working in the bush at a game lodge, with no signal) and then made a video call to Jess. Once we had all finished crying and Maree had 3028 photos, I parted with the cash (not a little, but it is magnificent) and we drove home, slighty hysterical about the day, crawling in traffic and still laughing about the bizarre dress in shop number two. I will never be able to thank the two of them enough for both going and giving opinions as Maree is about Jess’ age and added context. And for Renet who put her foot down around going to shop. 

My shoes will be delivered this week. Nothing over the top. Just a super well priced sale online at a local store. If they don’t fit it won’t be a train smash. I will find others that are pretty and we all intend to wear sneakers when the dancing hots up. I also found beautiful earrings in a store, which I loved at once. 

So finally. The mother of the groom only has to have her hair tinted and her nails done in the 3rd week of August and off I go to Pretoria the week before the wedding. 

With joy and excitement, tears and a snip of the apron strings, the gratefulness that I am getting such a wonderful, talented and family orientated daughter in law and that Nic is marrying the lady of his dreams after 7 years together, we are counting down us two families. Two families where the parents and all the siblings love each other. I know my boy will be a phenomenal husband. With a phenomenal wife. 

What more could a mom ask for. 

Till soon

c’est la vie

A bit of this and that

So readers - I have so many drafts and cannot choose, so I decided to rather do this fun one that bloggers pass around to each other, all over the world, once a year.  So if you know all of these, you must be family or close to me, if you know some or none - here is the lesson -

Favourite food - Pizza and Poke bowls 

Favourite drink - Cappuccino and more cappuccino. Heineken Zero shandy. 

Favourite season - Summer. I’m a beach and ocean swim girl

Favourite chocolate - Gold Lindt Bunny. But since that is seasonal only, Cadbury Wholenut and Cadburys Tumbles shortbread choc *way better than Whispers or Chuckles* oh my word. But those Lindt bunnies ……..

Favourite scent - Clinique Aromatics White and Georgio Armani “Si”

Favourite TV programme - any crime series or thriller particularly involving an elite police squad - or serial killers and police profilers. Also love local Afrikaans series. And Netflix documentaries.

Favourite sport to watch - F1 F1 F1. Followed by Premier League football, then cricket, then rugby. 

Favourite book genre - same as TV programme and then local African writers. Not really a romance reader.

Favourite book genre non fiction - politics and autobiographies 

Favourite part of job - the parishioners and for admin hard to choose - love it all. And yes, I’m happy all the time there.

Favourite colour - mint green

Favourite dessert - Baked cheesecake or Mc Flurry from McDonalds (they have a Speckled Egg one now!!!)

Favourite brand - Converse All Stars 

Favourite song - Currently - changes all the time -  By Your Side;  Turn Down for What (thanks Jess);  A Te;  Stick Season;  il filo rosso;   Leave me alone (when I asked Nic he said Absolutely. It’s a goodie hey). So I am all over the place when it comes to music.

Favourite chips - Tomato sauce and Lays Cranberry

Favourite pastime - journaling, reading and my blog.  And beach, beach and more beach

Something you probably don’t know about me - don’t eat olives, want to paraglide off Signal Hill, have always wanted to write a book

Favourite greeting - ok my whole family is laughing so we won’t do that one. Second one is - I promise . Parishioners will say it’s “hello my friend” to them. 

Favourite car - I’d love a mustang convertible

Favourite Bible verse - Romans 10:17 So faith comes from hearing through the word of Christ and Mark 5:19 Go home to your own people and tell them how much the Lord has done for you. And always “for I know the plans I have for you says the Lord ……..”.

Favourite saying - Where you go, go with your whole heart. 

So till soon

C’est la vie

Xxxx

Lent. Let Go and Let God.

 So Lent. How is yours going? 

My hubby gave up reading. He and I each read in excess of 100 books a year. Now this is a tough one. I don’t think he knows what to do with his hands or earphones early mornings and during the evenings. He is like a smoker in withdrawal. I would be the same. I think the instinct to pick up a book is for us a natural one. We can happily read a weekend away together. I admire the effort it is costing him. 

My Lent? What exactly it contains is not for this column. However I will say that I am leaning more towards the “will do”s” as opposed to the “won’t do’s”. As usual I do my 40 days of Lent letter writing and as always it interests me to see the responses. Some phone me in tears. Some send me a meaningful message, some almost shrug it off (ok one did and I was not surprised), but one very surprisingly seemed to not realise that this exercise means something to me. Maybe the nonchalant response was meant to teach me something. Even God has a sense of humour. But it hurt me. And they will never realise how much. There is something I will tell you - in one of my never ending Uber trips during the ongoing car saga, I had to have the driver do the round of libraries viz Somerset West, Strand and Gordon’s Bay, before taking me home. Our books are always from book sales - like at our parish, or very often the plethora of libraries we frequent. The driver was fascinated that I had books to return to all three. When he parked at Strand Library so I could run in, he told me he had never been in a library. 42 years old and never been in a proper large library. What privilege we sometimes ignore in our lives.. Well come along I said, when he had parked, and into the library we went. I gave him the grand tour, like a member of staff. He loved that there were books and audiobooks, magazines, places to sit etc. I got him a membership form - you don’t pay to belong to a library, they explained he needs a copy of his ID and proof of address (he had it from his savings acc) and two references. I told the library to use me as one (they want to be able to find their books if needed). He drove me again three days later. He had joined. And taken out one book. And that - that is part of my “will do’s” of Lent. Will do more of, not less of. 

One step at a time. One deed at a time. That is what we are called to do. 

Till soon 

C’est la vie 

Xxx

Costume oh Costume

It is that time of the year again. Buy a new swimming costume time. Because I spend a lot of time on the beach and in the sea, my costumes tend to only last one year. I have wondered since the sea is right in front of me 24/7, why I have never considered getting 2 or 3 costumes a year given the time I spend down there. 

But I digress. The costume thing. Costumes and changing rooms at stores, are not friends. Having a front, side and heaven forbid, back view all at once can be both frightening and traumatic. Now those of you who are slender, and that does not have to mean younger, just slender, may not know this. I now know a lot of women my age and older and many of them are slender. 

I am referring to the more "round" shaped people of the population. Like me. Someone taught me that phrase - "my shape is round". I know you get apple shape and pear shape and all types of body shapes according to the experts. Mine is round. Think more Oros man. And I say this with great love about myself. The boep is real. So is the butt.

I used to always buy one-piece costumes in the last 2 dozen years before moving here to the coast. One did not simply go on the annual or bi-annual holiday to the coast and put yourself and aforementioned boep into a bikini. It was simply just not done. Unless you fall into the slender category. Now granted many people just prefer the one-piece, irrespective of their age. One of my late parent's friends, a lady I have known for 58 years, has lived by the sea since forever, and never worn anything but a bikini. She is now in her 70's - I don't imagine her in any other costume. 

When we moved here to Gordons Bay, we did so for a work opportunity. I arrived 6 months after hubby and we knew no-one. 4 months later Hello Covid and any dreams of visiting the beach were shattered as we queued 200m apart at Checkers to go in and sweat profusely under our masks. I then decided that living literally a stone's throw from the beach was wasted by getting so only half tanned - which meant tanned arms and legs and lily white torso. A bit like a liquorice allsort sweet. So in came the bikini in 2022. I took several sizes and types and went into that hellhole also know as the dressing room (cue Jaws movie music). I put the first one on and a huge shadow loomed up behind me. I shrieked, only to discover is was my rear end reflecting in the "rear view" mirror. I had to take a break in Woolworths and go get a take out coffee in their coffee shop. It was going from arms and legs showing to everything showing as if you were wearing underwear. It was a lot. I am usuallly nicely tanned 6 months of the year, because on our deck I get tons of sun also, but going to the beach and suddenly exposing the liquorice allsort torso to its first sun in six years? Let us just say that much aftersun was used and Disprins taken. 

When the next Summer arrived I realised that the previous bikini had now served its time. I found this out when walking from my towel to the water and realising that my costume pants elastic was making it less of bikini bottom and more of thong. You know when elastic has done its time and your pants get that look like a baby on the beach wearing a Pampers nappy full of sand.. That look. So it got replaced and lo and behold I had gone to a smaller size. 

Last year I bought an even more fabulous one with large yellow flowers on. My daughter is fascinated that I am so unabashedly able to lie on the beach and walk to the water and back with a lot of parts jiggling. There is admittedly a lot of movement. I told her that if people want to look, or talk, or say "kyk daai vet vrou in die bikini", then c'est la vie. I'm getting tanned, reading a book, eating an ice-cream and having the best summer's day, whilst you are doing the people audit. 

Sadly, when I started Spring with my swim on 1 September this year, like every year (yes it was freezing cold and the wind was howling), I discovered that I have my beautiful yellow flower top from last year but appear to have mislaid the pants. So I had the Spring swim in the top that fitted and the bottom from the previous year that looked like the Pamper nappy full of sand style. The pants hung low, a bit gangster style. 

So me and the changerooms have an appointment at the stores for the 2025 upgrade. A new costume is the only item that I ever buy at Woolworths. Not the only item that I want, just the only item that I ever buy there. The want in Woolworths list is very long. Their bikinis just work for me. 

And that rear mirror? I am now at the stage that I try on the bikinis and usually turn around and say to that back mirror - "what the hell are you looking at?". 

Celebrate your body as it is now. Yes you should probably eat less sugar and more protein and less that and more this and blah blah. But celebrate that body. Mine will be on the beach soaking up the sun, boep and all. 

Till next time, 

c'est la vie xxx

The rug sack of small stones

So along came Mel. And told us to "Let Them". Yes, I like millions of others, have the book. After all, let's not forget that it shot up the bestseller list and by making us believe that her rules of life are the only ones to be followed, she banked several more millions of dollars. 

I believe a lot of Let Them things however I (like many, many other reviews, including some serious writers), believe that the term became a bit much - I listened to the audiobook and her Let Them phrase every sixth word became almost as annoying as the wanna be Duchess of Sussex and her tendency to now use the word "yet" at the end of every sentence. What Mel seems to miss is the fact that her theory is not one that no-one has ever thought of, practiced, heard a life coach or psychologist or someone tell them. Eight years ago my psychologist (yes I had one, today it's like having a hairdresser or nail tech), told me that you cannot wear all the problems of those around you, like a coat. People will have to grow up and deal with problems in the big world. Almost eleven years ago when I completed the very long and intense Lifeline Counsellors Course, one of the presenters brought along a rug sack, filled it with rocks, put it on her back with much difficulty and indicated how we pack everyone's problems on us. Point taken. To an extent. 

That was actually a longstanding theory, except that they didn't have a specific name for it and didn't make millions. 

Now there are, as I said, things that she is very smart about. But what irks and concerns me is that there are people who begin to live the book like a coat. There is a very thin line between adapting her ideas to fit into certain areas of your life, or many of them, or those that turn her book into a cult - because that pushes you into the area of arrogance. Thanks for the info of your life, but let me go back to my world now.

Let Them (and Let Me - also one she loves), can very quickly become "you and your life and your experiences are nothing to do with me. I see them, I hear them, please and thank you but go on your merry way. My life is about me. Just me".  Mel has told me that I must not worry about others too much. Just Let Them. Just Let Me. And my life. Fall down? I'll step over you to cross the road. 

I let go of that which does not serve me. I think if she looks she will find that she did not write that sentence. It came into existence forever ago. I somehow think that Hebrews 12 and Matthew 6 in the Bible, beat her to it. And I don't think they meant it in such a calculating way.

It is hard to let go a bit. If you have children, you will know this. If you are a victim of abuse, it cannot be understood by someone else, and this goes for hundreds of things every day in everyone's lives. So let me say I am practicing 40 percent of the book, or trying to, but I have realised that I don't have time for all the hocus pocus, because I don't want to look at others and 100 percent say "not my problem". Rich or poor, famous or regular person, whichever - I think the Let Them and Let Me cult is fast turning into a Me Cult only. A "I hear you" but it deserves none of my time. 

I will rather be the person who puts my hand out. Several days a week I hear of, see, communicate with, people with so many sad issues in their lives, there are a lot of heartbreaking things going on in people's lives. People tell me things. They always have in my life. They probably always will. A great part of my job is dealing with other people. It is the reason I love it so much. The one on one - the stories of holidays and grandchildren and books read and so much more. 

For some in my career, this is never happening (I know several people in the same job as me). It happens to me and my life is so blessed and full because people feel "safe" with me. My brain is a minefield of information that just is safe there. I can just say "oh that is very sad, I commiserate but on you go". However I don't want to be that person. 

I will give an extra hour if I can help you, I will sit on the step and give you a hug and mop up tears, I will buy you a coffee, pray for and with you, put on a cheery face for every single person who crosses my path in the day, even when I am dealing with so much lately. If I can make a call, do something or give something to help you, I will. When my son's wedding had to be postponed at short notice (the big day was supposed to be 4 Oct) and my daughter was hijacked the following week, I showed up, smiling and kind, because that is what I have to do. In return so many, many, many people were so kind and generous to me. There were those that surprisingly completely ignored my messages to say what had happened, or never ever asked for an update - disappointingly it says so much about them, and nothing about me. But it saddened me - it should not have been that way. I must mention that it was a traumatic situation that led to the wedding postponement and not any issues between him and his awesome fiancé. 

I love to go to my job. Every day. I interact with incredible people, more than I don't. I love to spend time with people in my own free time also. In both cases I am listening to their stories. I learn so much from one of my Priests who has so kindly drawn me, just as Karin and not as Karin the Parish Secretary, into a small group that teaches me, as we teach them, so much about humility and the challenging lives of others. These young people have become a wonderful part of some Saturday mornings. Sharing our Faith is beautiful. 

Yes I am the one that hugs the Rastafarian on the beach when I see him - because he loved meeting my mom, he made her a special bead necklace, as a gift, and gave her other items in the one time she came here before she got so sick. She just wanted a picture "with the nice Rastafarian". He always asked about her health, and he cried when I went to tell him that she had passed away. Those are the people I want in my life. I know a young man, who is currently writing exams at University (no, not my son).  I know his subjects and I make sure I always contact him to wish him luck before he writes and ask how it went after. I was stunned when I found out that he is studying, his life was an assumption that I had incorrectly made about him. Those are the kind of people I want to play a role in. I always know everyone's business. And that is a good thing. A safe thing. And I take it as a compliment. 

So I cannot cripple myself by loading 5 stones into my rug sack of every person I see/talk to/ help in my work and personal or family life. 

But I will always take some of your stones - I can carry them in rotation. Let Me. 

till soon

c'est la vie x

For reference I am talking about the "Let Them theory" by Mel Robbins. 

Can’t even think of a title🤣

Simple post - what is and isn’t a miserable life?

Miserable life

Struggling to find work unless you married to a millionaire

Having no fuel

Finding out at 10pm the filter coffee for espresso machine is finished

A broken vacuum cleaner

Someone throwing a rock at your car

Losing your parents

Losing your parents while your life is falling apart

Losing my beautiful pet, Pepper

Spending 673 days packing up a house

Being left an expensive house that needs some repairs that could have been done if all things were equal

Knocking coffee onto a library book

Friends who tell you that you have to drink decaf 

Not a miserable life

Knowing that you were unemployed because someone else was a *

Speaking the truth - not accepting blame for someone else’s inappropriate comment 

Not always having a ton of money

Being unemployed - challenging but not miserable

Living 400m from the beach

Inheriting a house 

365 days a year view of ocean from our deck

Lots of board games

Being unemployed

Incredible pets

Beating hubby at Scrabble finally 

Knowing which friends and family have your back 

Having filter coffee in stock 

I repeat the job one. Because just because I didn’t have one. And we had both worked for the same company, and that would be a shitshow for anyone, it doesn’t make mine a miserable life. Or make me a loser. 

You can have lots of money and not be happy And sometimes people call other people losers instead of focusing on their own messy lives. 

It is what it is. And if you find yourself in this blog. That’s on you peeps  

c’est la vie 

Not miserable 

Xxx

Mothers, Mothers-in-law and any other such kinds

How many mother-in-law, or mother jokes do you know. Or tell yourself? Or laugh at from others? There are articles, podcasts and memes about the horror of all horrors, "the mother-in-law". Very often portrayed as the dragon incarnate, overprotecting (usually her son) her children, interfering and giving unwanted advice. 

Then there are those that laud their mother-in-laws, love them for the relationship they share, find themselves gaining a 2nd mom and happily spending time with them. Where do you find yourself sitting in your relationship with your son and daughter-in-laws?

The reverse of course is that the MIL (work it out)can have the same dilemma. Are you loving and warm and helpful but have the son and/or daughter in-law from hell who only sees you as unable to snip the apron string, or do you have that warm and fuzzy person you longed to have?

MIL discussions and opinions are as old as the hills and they will always be a topic of conversation. 

I got lucky with my future DIL. We love each other and have a lot of fun when I visit and stay there. She is feisty and so am I. Which means we can disagree also. So it works. Sadly due to a serious job she is not able to come and visit us much at the coast. My son also got lucky with a warm, funny and loving future MIL. I shall ask my future DIL for a statement on my suitability 😀😀😀😀😀. She will tell you she loves my dancing skills and horrible accents but that I make great milktart and macaroni and cheese. 

I know from my parents that their in-law situation was great on the one side and tricky on the other. It makes life so difficult. 

I read an article on the plane last night in which it outlined the challenges - you don't want to let go completely or take control completely of a person and nor should you have to - both sides need to see that to make it work. 

As a MIL you always have to be watching the line between helping and interfering. When my mom visited us she washed dishes, tidied up a sideboard I never got to, folded the odd thing lying around and fiddled here and there. It was done with love and I so loved it.

I am the same. My son is busy with a 7 year degree at Tuks and his fiancé has a killer hour job as an Attorney. They leave early and return late. So when I was there I did everything I could to help. I would hate to come home in the evening and know that I must still take down or do washing, or fold the damn stuff or other little chores. No one wants to sweep at 9pm. I hope other moms realize that helping with everything you can when you visit from another Province like me, is saying "hey I have the time and you have so little of it" as opposed to "well obviously you are incapable of doing it so I will". As I only see them every few months I love to spoil them. Same with my daughter. She loves to wash dishes and sweep/mop but hates the whole laundry thing. Also she is at the restaurant 6 days a week. So I happily do load after load and fold for her. Why? Because I think she is lazy? No. Because when I visit I have the time to do it. With love. 

So young people - adults - older people - take advantage of your MIL if you have a good relationship. And MIL's - tell your SIL's and DIL's that free labour is great. 

In my case we mix all of this with coffee and eat out dates, watching series together on Netflix, card games and a helluva lot of laughing. 

What a blessing

till next time

c'est la vie xxx