the sea, the body surfing and that costume

The beach.

Brings images to mind of vast areas of golden sand. The smell of coconut suntan oil, the sea and the vision of toned bodies, splayed on beach towels, soaking up the sun whilst buff speedo clad men run along the sea edge, eliciting sighs from women of all ages ….

Screeeeeech …… stop the vision.  Because the reality is indeed vast areas of golden sand, and the smell of suntan lotion, but the toned bodies? All bodies are here – toned, untoned, over toned, thin, fat, in-between and everything else, in costumes of all sizes and styles, whether appropriate for that person or not.  Speedo clad men? Yes, but perhaps for many of them a switch to baggies would be more appropriate.  Speedo and huge boep?  Not so hot.  A bit like me rocking up on the beach in a tanga.  Not so hot.  If you are without a huge boep or highly confident or have always worn a Speedo – high 5 to you.  If not – better not.  I have a wonderful friend who tells me that Speedos are meant for illicit trips to Thailand with hot “others”.  I will take your word for it TS.

So yesterday we went off to the beach in the morning.  All 4 of us to swim and then for the 2 female members of the family to stay on the beach for the next 3 to 4 hours.  The male members of the family swim for long and then hibernate from the beach.  This is our daily ritual.  We parked ourselves in a spot, umbrella up, towels down and headed towards the water.  At this stage I wanted to tighten my one-piece costume which had a strap around the neck.  As I reached to do so, whilst walking with the other 3 across the beach, I realised that my costume was on inside out.  “How Laverne, how?” asked my poor long-suffering husband.  My costume is black.  Completely.  So inside out it is still black.  Completely.  I gave a sigh of relief and then something struck me as we were halfway across the sand.  All costumes have doubles crotches …. I suppose so that the sea sand has a place to gather whilst swimming – because I see no other reason.  I glanced down and yes, the thin crotch “net” was now on the outside and left no doubt as to the fact that it was inside out.  I walked right up behind my hubby which made us look like we were doing some strange sort of left right goosestep.  “What the hell?”, he asked.  “Just walk dammit, I have crotch net”, I hissed.   We raced into the water and had a whale of a time for the next 45 mins and when I left the water I walked right up against him to the towel. 

So today I double checked the costume angle before leaving our flat.  Hubby stayed home (traumatised) and me and the kids went down to the beach (22 and 18 so I say kids sort of loosely).  Normal ritual, umbrellas up, towels down and into the water.  Now today the lifeguards were taking special care because the waves were pummelling and the drag was incredible, pulling one continuously out of the flagged area. 

It is imperative at this stage to tell you that there is permanently a huge dip as you walk into the sea on this beach.  You step into the water and walk 6 steps ankle deep.  The 7^th step finds you waist high in the water, then neck high and once you manage to get through the pummelling, you reach an area where you are waist high again and can have fun in the waves.

The downside is the getting out part.  You now have the waves behind you, so when you enter the deep part and are walking through it waiting to suddenly find the ankle-deep entry to the sea, the waves are whacking you from the back due to the depth.  So, the step between waist high and ankle high needs crucial timing because if you get klapped by a wave at that exact moment …… well ….

So, the 18-year-old son gets through this with his usual nonchalant way (I suppose the fact that he is 125% fit helps) and turns to hold out his hand to me.  My daughter had managed to steady herself behind me.  It was going quite gracefully at that moment.  I was waist deep and waiting for a break between waves to step. 

Then it went pear shaped.  And very pear shaped.  Very quickly.

As I started to emerge from the sea like Ursula Andress in that Bond movie, a stealth wave came from the back and it whacked me as I took the crucial step.  I was knocked forward into a body surfing position and shot from the waist to the ankle depth area like a surfer who was now in 8 inches of water.  As Nic tried to grab my hand and help me up, that incredible current and drag kicked in and sucked me backwards … forcing me into Jess who was now standing and knocking her over and, with me, back into the sea.  I got up only to be whacked again, but as I was now closer to Nic, the strength of that wave coming through the dip made me body surf again, except that I now did so from 8 inches of water towards the beach – of no water.  This meant that I body surfed in the ankle high water but due to my momentum, never stopped when I ran out of water.  I just kept going.  In the process, I knocked over a little boy like a skittle, who was standing on the edge of the beach and ploughed up, sand everywhere until I came to a stop about a metre from the water’s edge. 

Nic was crying.  He put out his hand but since he was absolutely dying laughing, he could not help much.  I struggled up, apologised to the skittle child whose father had picked him up and turned to see Jess, choking on sea water as she shrieked with laughter.  “You washed onto the beach like a piece of debris”, cried Nic.  “Yes, like a beached whale”, I retorted.  I was laughing so much I could barely walk.  And the first row of people sitting on the beach, there was a LOT of laughing going on.

It is important to mention that I also had 14kg of rough sea sand and stones in my costume which now made it look like I had 100 boils on my skin as my costume was so lumpy.

So, I entertained the beach goers, I entertained my kids and I entertained myself.

Thank heavens I am a person of great confidence.  But I think I need a new costume.  And a more elegant exit from the water.

Laugh often

Till soon

c’est la vie xxxx

hot flushes, lettuce, baldness and other fun stuff

Now I have a close friend who always bemoans the creation of lettuce and has firmly told us that when he gets to heaven one day, the first thing he is going to ask God is what the whole idea with lettuce was.

I have asked that friend that should he get to heaven before me, he please asks, straight after the lettuce question, what the idea with hot flushes was.

Now I was a scholar of intermittent flushes.  My body seems undecided whether I should now be getting them or not.  They come and they go.  Sometimes they visit 58 times a day, sometimes they leave me alone for a few days, but for the last while, it seems they are wanting to be around me all the time.  How annoying.

Now the non-hot flush, too young, hormone treated, too old or simply don’t have it women will not understand this phenomenon, and the only people not getting it even more, are men.  They have no damn idea.  I asked a friend recently why the hell we got stuck with flushes, what do men have to deal with?  He said baldness.  What a choice. 

For those who don’t know.  Imagine it is 32 degrees outside.  You are coolly dressed and moderately comfortable albeit a little testy with the heat.  You have the fan blowing on you as you go about your work.  The next minute someone steps up to you, busts open your chest, places 68 pieces of burning hot coal into your body and then sears your outer skin with a blow torch while at the same time making you sit in a sauna.  That about describes it.  And then a little while later, it stops.  But beware because it shall return.

Now my boss has a good chuckle about this.  I spend all day every day at work.  I have a ceiling fan and a standing cooler.  He knows that at least 3 times a day I will suddenly ask “are you getting very hot????” – he never is.  He always laughs.  And pats his upper arm, where perhaps I should get a patch.  I burst out perspiring.  I grab the jug of ice water and drink straight from the spout, there is no time for glasses or finesse.  I crank the cooler up to speed 3 and chuck in another 2 ice squares, I fan myself with the files.  And then it stops.  And life resumes.  Usually about 20 mins later you will find me reaching for my cardigan on the back of my chair.  I bring one every day and usually forget to take it home.  So, they get stacked one on the other on the back of my chair.  Two weeks ago, I got up and my chair fell over backwards.  It was suggested I return some clothes to my home.

Now on holiday with my family, they have witnessed it first hand during the day.  We will walk in a centre or simply be in the flat and suddenly I will say “holy shit” (or something similar) and come to a dead stop.  Sweat pouring down me.  Face glowing like an Estee Lauder well-nourished skin care advert, I walk into the first and best air-conditioned store, I restrain myself from grabbing people’s drinks in nearby restaurants.  I wait.  Because this too shall pass.

So, it seems that perhaps when I get home a visit to the doctor would be the best option.  I want to ask him for a patch.  I would like it to be the size of a double bed.  Then I can lay it on the floor and fall face down on it.  Please wrap it around me, and leave me be.

I wonder how I would look bald? Perhaps it is the better option.

Stay happy

Till soon

c’est la vie xxxx

the husband. the holiday and the last minute items

I made my husband a very happy man on Friday evening.

The reason may be different to what normally makes guys happy, but in this case, it was a change to a 25 year plus altercation every time we went on holiday, or took a trip.

The argument about what he terms “last minute items”.

Now somehow, he is the self-designated boot packer (probably because he gets everything in), which also then seems to mean that he gets to decide who has taken too much, unnecessary stuff and so on and so on …….

Naturally his bags get loaded into the boot “unaudited”, we do not get to comment on what or how much he takes as we do not really get to see it.  However, every single item brought out, particularly by me, has to be commented on.

My suitcase – when zipping it up and picking it up off the bed, he usually gives a little shriek, holds his back, drops the case down on the floor and asks “What the hell have you got in here Laverne?”.  Now given that my answer has been roughly the same since about 1990, I do not know why he continues to labour the point.

I have clothes, slops and 18kg of magazines.  And 2 Novels.  And 32 bookmarks.  And my daily devotions book.  And my journal/notebook/pen thingy.  Always the same.

Everyone has vices.  Mine are coffee, magazines and books.  Always has been, always will be.  And when I am going away, I stockpile them before the time.  And read them on holiday.  And leave them behind. 

But the BIG thing is what he mumblingly calls the “last minute”.  Because yes, when he has packed the boot, it does happen that as he smugly bangs it shut, I come out with my handbag, which always goes in the car, my toiletry bag (good grief how did he think I would brush my teeth, pamper my skin and do my hair in the morning before we leave if my stuff was in the boot) and I may also have a few little teeny things I forgot whilst packing.  Like my hairdryer.  Or 5 tops I had in the tumble dryer.  Or my sneakers – two pairs.  Or a game. Or a giraffe.

And then it comes …. First, he stares.  Then his eyes roll back in his head and since we have been together for 30 years I always must make sure it is because of the last-minute items and not because he is having a seizure from age.  Then his lips get very thin.  They need to because it is hard to speak ONE.WORD.AT.A.TIME if you do not do so through clenched teeth.  Then comes the standard “oh for ………”. 

This usually leads me to either a) burst into tears because “he is so mean” or b) burst into a temper because “he is so mean”.  Either way it leads to us reversing down the driveway to go on leave, me glaring out my window, him out of his and the kids rolling their eyes.  By the time we go through the tollgate however, it is over and verby.

So, this year, given that it is almost our 25^th wedding anniversary, I decided to be more thoughtful.  I only packed 17kg of magazines and 3 bookmarks.  I also put one hairdryer in the bag for all of us to use.  I put 8 of his t-shirts also into my bag.  When he picked it up and thumped it down and asked the mandatory “what the hell have you got in here Laverne”, I smiled sweetly and said “stuff”.

This year for the first time I suggested that we pack the boot finished the night before we leave.  This way he would a) know what is still coming and b) have all night to get over the trauma.

So, upon packing he asked each one of us 3 to tell him “what exactly would be coming to the boot in the morning” – I told him my Nespresso machine and one toiletry bag.

In the morning, having given him 12 hours’ notice, I arrived with those 2 items.  When I saw the semi lip tightening because of the coffee machine, I reminded him that I had not arrived with any undeclared items, and thus had turned over a new leaf.  I did however find a jersey in the tumble dryer which I put on, even though I already had one on.  Surely we cannot be penalised if we wear our “last minute stuff”.

So, at 4am the next morning, we departed right on time.  Everything had a place and hubby was smiling.  He had no choice.

Oh, and for the record ….. when I took over the driving after 4 hours, he did tell me to take my “bloody handbag out underneath his legs on the passenger side”.  I did.  I would have been so disappointed if I had not given him the chance to at least have one little moan about the luggage.

May I never see the day that I pack up the car for a holiday without him.  It would break my heart to not have the chance to chuckle over the “last minute things”.

This is what marriage is about.  I love him.  Even though he hates the 17 magazines.

Till soon

Laugh often!

c’est la vie

xxxx

friendship is a game for 2

Close friendships require hard work and effort.  

For me this is a statement, not a debate.  They require hard work and effort because most times the reward is great joy and great sharing and the accumulation of great memories over years. 

I know the whole reason, season, lifetime verse and song and yes, this is true for most friendships - some people help us just at the right moment in life, to survive, to find joy, to share, to love.  And then they silently slip away.  Not from negligence, but simply because your work together is done.  The "reason" ones.

And yes, others still come around for a longer while - the "season" people - they fill a space in your life and they give you the opportunity to fill space in theirs, to spend time together, to make your own memories.  And when that season is gone, so are they. 

And then come the "lifetime" ones, and these are the ones that require the real damn hard work, the real effort, and yes, believe it or not, time and effort and interest from both parties.  These are the ones that this blog was inspired by. 

Now I am someone who puts huge effort into this especially when you are in my "friendswhoarefamily" group.  And many people I know and are friends with are like me.  I want to know if you slept well.  I want to know if you are feeling better because yesterday or the day before you were not feeling great.  I want to know how the party / function / lunch / movie or such was that you were at. I take an interest.  It matters to me if you are sad, it matters to me if you are safe and I will check up on you if you are.  I want to simply say "hey, how is your day going".  And I do. I think that must be heartwarming to be on the receiving end. Because real interest is a bit thin on the ground nowadays. 

But the most soul-destroying and heart breaking thing has to be friendships where these questions are always uttered by the one person continuously, whilst the other person thoroughly enjoys the love and attention, but does not reciprocate.  You sick? Well get over it and stop moaning and groaning.  You went out?  I am not that interested.  You sad?  Chin up darling or why are you sulking (Quiet does not always equal sulking.  Sometimes it is simply hey give me a hug because you see I need one).  That is how it feels when you are on the other end.  And eventually after years .... it starts to wear you down. 

So think about your close friendships, think about the effort you put in.  Think about the time you take to say hello, how are you, how is your day going, in fact just something. A few minutes or more a day. Some of the people who spend the most time on their phones, spend the least time sending a message to those who are always there. 

So pause about it, and when you decide which person you are and where you fit, step back from being defensive and take a moment.  To ponder.  To think if you have friends who deserve better. Type that message.  And be thankful that you have people in your life that love you so much. 

till soon
be joyful 

c'est la vie xxx

be brave

To be brave. 

Does not mean you have to save someone from a burning building
Does not mean you have to endure pain without asking for help
Does not mean you have to hide your tears
Does not mean you have to allow others to walk over you
Does not mean you have to endure the lack of right to speak up
Does not mean you have to live your life fighting the reactions of certain people
Does not mean you have to stay in a job / relationship / situation that you hate


To be brave

Means you allow yourself to have an opinion
Means you allow yourself to speak up 
Means you allow yourself to be bold
Means you allow yourself to fight injustices
Means you step up and step out when needed
Means you stand up to bullies
Means you speak your mind even when you know you will get a reaction 
Means you rather stand alone for something, than with a crowd, for nothing
Means you will defend someone when you know it is morally right, rather than worry whether it is a conflict of interest
Means you expect from people the same respect that some demand from you 
Means you understand that bullies sometimes come in the most attractive packages 


To be brave

Is one of the hardest things for some people to do
Is one of the hardest things to do when faced with strong people
Is one of the hardest things to do when faced with hypocrites
Is one of the hardest things to do when "sorry" is in your every sentence
Is one of the hardest things to do when you are afraid
Is one of the hardest things

full stop 


till soon
c'est la vie xxx

a matter of timing and Lent

So being Catholic, Lent presents itself with the opportunity to give up something.  To fast from something - to leave something behind. 

I grew up like most Catholic kids, giving up Coke, sweets and a plethora of such. As an adult I still found myself giving up coffee (never again simply for the sanity of both my husband and my boss), chocolates and things like that. 

Then a couple of years ago I changed this, I found that I wanted to give up a habit or behaviour or addiction, rather than a "material" thing.  It has worked for me for the past 2 years.  This year I decided to give up lateness. 

You may think this is a rather simplistic choice.  If you know me you will know differently. I leave for everywhere at the last possible moment.  I lie in till the last possible moment. It is now a habit.  A long standing habit.  And I know it is annoying for my family, particularly my hubby and especially my kids who are time conscious.  Two friends have been quite outspoken about my habit, particularly one, which is strange as that friend is often late with simply no reason at all.  But as this is my "I have no faults so let us discuss yours all the time" friend, I have decided to "keep my side clean". 

It has been quite a challenge.  So as it is my Lenten challenge, I will end the 40 days mid April knowing that is has challenged me considerably.  As our priest says, "we should be feeling the burn of Lent about now".  I was feeling it on day 3 already. 

I do not have a problem with setting my alarm to give me adequate time to get up and get ready.  I have never had a problem with this.  However I do have a huge problem with reacting to the alarm.  The snooze button and I are best friends.  I now set the alarm even earlier so that I can still have two snooze hits and then get up at the time that I should be. I have to practice leaving work on time - it is a major problem which impacts on my son.  I have had great challenges so far in Lent doing this one because I am by nature not a "clock watching" employee. 

I make a habit of leaving the house at the correct time.  If my hair is not finished or anything else, I have to leave.  This encourages me to be ready before the "leave now" alarm goes off. 

During the day I make sure that I am where I should be, at the time I should be, unless it is beyond my control. 

The interesting thing has been my time conscious family.  Because now that I leave on the dot at the correct time, I regularly find myself in the car, idling the engine and hooting for them to hurry up.  They don't like this.  Because now they cannot lecture me.  

Have I failed sometimes?  Yes.  It happens.  We are talking about a longstanding habit. However I keep reminding myself that many people who give up red meat because their consumption is too much, too much alcohol, choc addictions etc, rush straight back to those vices after the 40 days is over, which is fine.   I am struggling now to set the groundwork for what must become a permanent habit after Lent.  So yes I fail sometimes.  And that is ok with God I am sure. 

I have become so used to being a little late, that now that I am making a concerted effort, I get very touchy when someone makes comments about it.  Recently a friend made a joking blase' remark about me and my lateness.  It was annoying and hurtful, even though I know they were very much tongue in cheek.  Each person tries with their Lent. Lord knows I have.  

We all try in our own way.  Some people give things up privately, I know one person who completely gave up their phone and IPad except for Sundays because their behaviour on it is morally questionable.  I know it is a huge struggle for them, I wish this person knew that I understand and know their challenge.  Some people are happy to share their challenge with others. It is not our place to judge.   

Encourage habit changing efforts of others, encourage habit changing efforts that you are performing. 

And find the time to pause.  Before you speak.  Before you act.  Before you judge.  Before you change.  Before you do anything.  EVERYONE needs to practice the pause. 

much love till soon 
c'est la vie 
xxx

Adult bullies

You may not hear a lot about adult bullying, but it is a problem. I personally battle to stand up to these people.  I fall back time and time again into the position of the bullied. Feeling that I need to be quieter, laugh more demurely, be more subdued or as someone hinted at "act my age now that I am 51".  I am always stunned when people in very fragile glass houses throw stones at others about behaviour. 

One would think that as people mature and progress through life, that they would stop behaviors of their youth. Unfortunately, this is not always the case. Sadly, adults can be bullies, just as children and teenagers can be bullies. While adults are more likely to use verbal bullying as opposed to physical bullying, the fact of the matter is that adult bullying exists. The goal of an adult bully is to gain power over another person, and make himself or herself the dominant adult. They try to humiliate victims, and “show them who is boss.”

There are several different types of adult bullies, and it helps to know how they operate:

1. Narcissistic Adult Bully: This type of adult bully is self-centered. He or she seems to feel good about him or herself, but in reality has a brittle narcissism that requires putting others down, criticizing their personality traits and always ensuring they are wrong in every situation of confrontation.
2. Impulsive Adult Bully: Adult bullies in this category are more spontaneous and plan their bullying out less. Even if consequences are likely, this adult bully has a hard time restraining his or her behavior. In some cases, this type of bullying may be unintentional, resulting in periods of stress, or when the bully is actually upset or concerned about something unconnected with the victim.
3. Verbal Adult Bully: Words can be quite damaging. Adult bullies who use this type of tactic may start rumors about the victim, or use sarcastic or demeaning language to dominate or humiliate another person. This subtle type of bullying also has the advantage – to the bully – of being difficult to document. However, the emotional and psychological impacts of verbal bullying can be felt quite keenly and can result in reduced job performance and even depression.

Adult bullies were often either bullies as children, or bullied as children. Understanding this about them may be able to help you cope with the behavior. 

Stand up.  You have a right to be you.  

till soon 
c'est la vie xxxx

Article sourced from: www.bullyingstatistics.org