My Year of Meaningful (2011)

It is monday I didn't have to work. Holiday holiday holiday WOO WOO!!

The breakdown of Jazz weekend went something like this:
Friday night H beat my ass in squash like usual.
We ate dinner and watched TV until like 2am and drank a fine Australian Shiraz (Bin 888).

Saturday kicked off about 3 pm and me & h. & P. & V. & everybody made it to about 9 different locations including the Well as predicted for a combination of Oktoberfest AND the jazz weekend. Kalvin's girlfriend is beautiful and sooooooooooo nice I wish she didnt live in Wales because now she'll only get to come over every once in awhile (and make me look like the fashion idiot that I am).

I had about 5 Heinikens which took me up to about the 3rd pub on the Jazz Trail (the Vinyard, where some US blues band was playing, they were quite good) then decided it would be a good idea to try a variety of Polish beers at the Oktoberfest across the river, which were all bad but man the Polish guys are/were hot. Then we went to the rooftop bar Suas, no bands there but Tiger beer (yummy) at which time i decided it would be an even BETTER idea to switch to vodka and lime. At this stage I was into about 8 standard units as were the guys. Which meant anytime someone went to the bar to order me a vodka and lime, I would get like. .. . random quantities of lime. As in sometimes 1 shot of vodka and like 8 oz of this sickly sweet hole-in-your-stomach-burning thick cordial. and like 1 ice cube. It wasnt going well, but by about drink #10 I was hopped up on lime enough to lose sleep for the next 2 days. Which I guess sobered me up a bit.

We went to Clancy's, that band sucked, so we went to the Newport, and as with cases where you've been drinking slowly for long periods of time, some of us were tired and some of us were wired (gee, now who would that have been) so there was some deliberating about whether or not to finish up at the nightclub next door (10€ a head and there were Dutch guys in the crowd so that was declined) and ended up all parting ways at 1 am instead. H & PW and I walked home via Shandon St. so that we could enjoy a gratuitous Doner Kebab from the Dhata boys at the top of the hill and came back to our place where we then decided we'd had enough so called it a night.

Slept til 10 and forgot about the hour change. . .. . . DAMN the extra hour wasted

Saturday night champagne and beer and various alcho-pops at S's as we had said we Would NOT be doing, but those guys make all discipline get cast to the wind. Walked home at 1am as per usual and slept til 11.

Today is sunday and so far we have drunk cappucino at Costa and ate too much cheesey toasted sandwichy things. But Maarten is here now so we have to come up with something interesting to do which is why this post sounds lame and disjointed and completely boring - - - I'm just not inspired or with it.

The Corpse Bride at the cinema? Perhaps! Happy Halloween and I love Tim Burton!

Happy Anniversary to myself and the Mancakes for our 5-year-anniversary-of-meeting! Cheers!

Our Botswana photos

Our South Africa photos

From This Sept/Oct (2005)

Enjoy if at all possible!! (yawn)

It is indeed time for the annual Cork JazzFestivl.

Every October we have a bank holiday weekend here on the emerald Isle. Every October bank holiday weekend we have the "WATEVER-ANNUAL GUINNESS CORK JAZZ FESTIVAL" woo hoo! And waddaya know, this year it even corresponds with the Franciscn Well (our local)'s Oktoberfest! What a fabulous 3-day weekend this shall be!

The Annual Oktoberfest at the 'Well always involves about 25+ young and green braumeisters setting up their taps in the beergarden behind the pub and a big bbq in the "cave" (hole in the old stone wall) at the back of the beergarden. It lasts 3 days. We always end up getting really spastic and stealing big fancy german beer glasses. Go figure.

Anyway it's all happening on the same weekend (and dont forget monday is a HOLIDAY) and we have got all sorts of trouble to cause. Boy Howdy!!

Granted tonight will be soft as we have our weekly game of squash -yawn- but gotta keep the buns tight, you know how it is. All that drinkin to come. . .

Saturday at 3pm we'll start on the Guinness JazzTrail (all the free gigs around town - as opposed to the fucking OUTRAGEOUS €30 - €40 gigs at the Palace or Metropole!!!) with a Dutch jazz band at the Coal Quay bar... meeting Vince and Kal and his gf who's over from Malaysia + Fiona and HER Paul + Paul W, me and H for sure. We'll see who else... then right across the bridge from that is the WELL so we can drop in on Oktoberfest, THEN we're meeting Hans + Kirstin and Ray + Ciara at the Shelbourne for either Cat Scratch Fever band or some band called Eddie and something... Not sure. At any rate a good Guinnessy time will be had by all.

Don't even get me started on sunday. . . in Ireland if you have the monday off, you can pretty much assume you'll be down for the count by 9pm on sunday. Rather call it "binge day". It's just what they do here. I can't help it. And all that jazz on the Jazz Trail that we won't have seen on saturday? shit, better see it on sunday!

Dude, I don't even LIKE jazz! Why cant it be the Guinness BLUES weekend or something? Whatever, it's the biggest thing in the life of Cork. C'est la vie.

Must go get the squash gear on. And ample lining in the stomach....

Weekends are cool, but I have always struggled with that dammed "Sunday Depression". I really hate sundays. It's not quite so bad at this stage in my life, because at the moment I'm in a position where I don't hate my job. Man back in Melbourne when I was working for Nazis Inc., I could literally be reduced to tears on a sunday, just dreading the oncoming morning.

But I still hate sundays. I used to hate them as a kid because my parents operated a strict "bitch-slap them into church" policy. Then I hated them in college because the inevitable 10:00 lecture-hangover combination really cramped my style. Then I hated them in early adulthood because I had to develop a rigid "go to bed before 12" regime to prevent starting my week out in a foggy haze and just setting the mood for the oncoming week on the wrong note. As a true night owl, this is a very uncool routine for me, especially given the fact that we love lying in on a sunday and not getting out of bed til 11 or god forbid even 12... by midnight I'm JUST NOT TIRED on sunday night and there I am forcing myself to lay down and stare at the celing. But I'm a sleep-aholic and mondays are absolute disasters if I get less than 6.5-7 hours. Tragic.

Now it's not so much that I fear mondays because of the work-thing, I appreciate the fact that I do enjoy my job. It's just that the weekends are so much fun and really our weekdays are pretty routine-istic and predictable. A bit yawn. Again I sound like a spoiled brat because I know an average week for me and the Mr. is pretty interesting compared to that of say, my parents or I'm sure others. At least we have the dancing class/pub session on thursdays, my yoga class on tuesdays, and god forbid we forget "The Shield" on monday and "Kath and Kim" on wednesdays. heh heh. But yeah I'm kinda bitchy and selfish so of course I take everything for granted. God help me if I ever have kids and responsibility. I'm just sitting up here in the dark computer room avoiding the sunday chores (vacuuming, mopping, laundry - another reason I always hate sunday) watching the rain and feeling like wallowing in self-pity.

I HATE VACUUMING.

Positive mode: We had a great weekend. Friday night was the big halloween party at Cooper's that Fiona organised. I'd say about 40 people made it and everyone ACTUALLY dressed up, it was cool. The bar even closed itself to the public for us, and the dj was pretty decent (or was he?). Hannes and I went as:

BUSH and CHAIN-y.

We got the prize for most creative, which was champagne (YESSSS!) but I was jealous of the Spookiest winner because his (dave's) costume looked like so much fun!!! He was Death. And you totally couldn't tell who it was under that costume, which I always think makes the best costume..... Alan was also death, and he was always dancing with his staff of doom which looked so much fun. And his gf was the bride of dracula which meant she got to wear fangs.... I love fangs. Next year I have to figure out how I can incorporate fangs into my costume. Paul W. was a mummy. complete with white skull cap so you couldnt tell he was wearing a mask... but when we got to the party he took off the mask (duh) and kept the skull cap on, and looked like Enrique Iglesias. So it was almost like he had a super-cool double-costume-costume. Brilliant. But I don't think he intended it.

We has a Pre-Party drink at our house...

...and then taxied into the city with S. and L. because there was no way we could've walked all the way to Cooper's without Bush losing the majority of her foliage. Got to the party a fashionable hour late and I proceeded to drink vodka for the remainder of the evening because I was under the impression that if I was vodkaing all night, that my yoga teacher would never know I had been out on a bender the next morning at yoga class. ;-) Long story short (?) it was fun and then we all got into Club Renaissance for free after Cooper's closed and boogied our bottoms off while costumes gradually began to disintegrate.

Saturday I survived an hour and a half of yoga which actually didn't go so poorly, I think because I was bound and determined to prove to myseslf that I was NOT hungover, so I just tried harder. But then I kinda collapsed for awhile once I got home. My hangovers tend to be delayed-hangovers in my old age. We tried to pick out a new sink for the bathroom (not going well) and ended up eating toasted sandwiches instead. Took the puppies for a beautiful autumn afternoon walk in the park where the trees are holding off their impending winter-doom for me, for these last few days, met lots of other friendly dog owners (EVERYONE had the same idea, it was so beautiful out) , had a really nice long bath complete with candles, relaxing oily stuff, etc. Then went to Eastrn Tandoori for dinner, EVEN GOT A WINDOW SEAT overlooking the river which is just a miracle. I found out that I like dry martini (? who knew!?) and stuffed ourselves silly. The guy and his date at the table next to us decided that they had a bit too much to drink and actually gave us the remaining 3/4 of their bottle of Montes Merlot, which is one of our favourite Chilean wines... for free... imagine! We gladly walked home... it was dry!!!... and slept in today as usual. Quiche Lorraine for breakfast and really nice mocha flavoured coffee that we bought a few weeks ago from Maher's in Oliver PlunkettSt.

Nice. But now? The impending Sunday blues kick in. Hannes is downstairs banging in the bathroom because his pump is leaking or something, and I haven't vacuumed one square inch of carpet. -sigh- Here it comes.

I will proceed to now try and find flights for xmas and it is HARD!!

I know in some of my previous posts I've ranted a little about how winter is coming and robbing me of my love affair with autumn. But it's not just that that I hate about the oncoming season... it really is ruthless in Cork. The brutal south-coast winter may not bring snow or ice or things that I had to put up with in Wyoming, but the storms that come with it are unforgiving.

With all the news on TV lately about the extreme weather conditions affecting the Southern Gulf Coast & New Orleans by hurricanes Katrina and Rita, we shouldn't forget that Ireland has its share of devastating weather too.

I attach a photo illustrating the damage caused to a friend's home from a storm that passed through Cork one night last week. It really makes you cherish what you have and reminds us not to take things for granted.

I was always really annoyed in high school because EVERYONE I knew had cooler parents (read: mother) than me. I thought maybe when I grew up that my mom would mellow out and stop being such a psycho cow freak.

Oh no she hasn't.

Maybe other people have those in their lives that could be classified as neurotic power-tripping head-cases, but at least for the people around me, that would include an aunt or a sister or a mother-in-law or ??? Not me, oh hell no, I got the bitchy mom. The one who you have to put up with for ETERNITY, not just once a year at xmas. . .

She's the kind of person who sends you those cheesey forward-email thingys that are meant to be emotional and inspirational, and you're meant to send them to people you care about because it reflects how you value their friendship or whatEVER. Sometimes you even leave a little note in the header that says something like "Saw this and thought of you..." or I DONT KNOW I DONT SEND THEM. But with my mom, rather than sending it to you because it's related to HER caring about YOU, she sends it in hopes that it's YOU who sees how it's relavant to HER!

Seriously, these FWs come from her, to you, with an addendum saying something to the effect of:
"I hope you read this and it makes you think about how you treat people who have only ever been kind and considerate to you, like your parents and grandparents."

Or if it's one about some adult who's parents (or a close elderly neighbour) has passed away, and he reflects on all the things he never said to them and wished he had, then her addendum would be something to the effect of:
"Just remember that your parents love you and even though you may not realize it, they have always done everything in their power to make sure that you are taken care of and BLAH friggin BLAH BLAH..."

DUH! That's not even what the touchy-feeley forward story was about! It was about a guy who had unresolved issues with some old dead bollocks! There is no moral that has anything to do with a parent's unconditional love! Like if you're gonna plague me with blatently passive-agressive parable emails, at least friggin make sure they're relavant to the message?!!? UGH! ANNOYING MUCH!?!?!?!??!

Maybe everyone does know someone who has to make EVERYTHING about themselves? But heaven help you if it's a parent. I'm thinking of starting a society for support, "Society for People who Got the Wrong Parents". In adulthood is when it gets really nasty when you're in this position. While you're so used to just writing off people in your every-day-adult-life, who are nothing more than useless baggage and non-beneficial, you just can't get rid of the Matriarch. It's not POSSIBLE. She would hunt you down and EAT you.

A couple weeks back it was mancakes' birthday. We always write each other elaborately mushy bday cards. Yeah yeah, to the utter disgust of my friends (we're talking 2-pagers, here). Whatever, it's just our thing. But after 5 years of writing elaborately mushy bday, anniversary, anniversary-of-1st-meeting, xmas, and valentines day cards, I find it getting harder to be creative and actually come up with kickass mushy stuff to fill up 2 pages with, that hasn't already (a.)been said by one or the other before, or (b.) become cliché.

I deduced that this is because I only start writing the card a day or so before the event, and don't really have the juice to think of something sensational in such a hurry. Gotta get a new gig that gets the creative and sentimental juices fowing a bit more. I now have decided that the key is to start stockpiling thoughts and come up with inspiration throughout the year. Which actually is probably also good for my consistant personal affirmation of the fact that I didnt marry a douchebag.

Now, I don't know if TheHubs reads this... he knows it's out there, but we haven't talked about it (he's very respectful of my obsession with top-secret journals) so if you're reading this and you just happen to be him, just pretend it's your birthday again. If not, I'm working on material for xmas.

Right. I love the mancakes because he does stuff which is just so NOT classicly male. Revert to the photo, above. We were at DunnesStores the other day and saw their new winter stock. (Yes, winter is coming, GROAN, there goes my love affair with autumn - leaving me high and dry and strung out on mass quantities of apple cider tea that I didnt get to finish before the cruel irish seasons turn against me) Anyone who knows me knows I absolutely love fleece. As far as materials go, fleece and flannel are my most favorite things in the world. Keep your stinky silk and satin and wooly shit. Give me fleece. Then, give me flannel. After that, whatever, it's all sheep to me.

The fleece robes pulled me over to that section (we were actually there to buy groceries) like moth to flame. The rest went down something like this:
Me: "WOoooah fleecey robes... Baby don't you think we should each get a fleecey robe to run around in this winter?"
He: "OK. Which ones?"
We poked around in the racks, he asked if I didn't think they were only for girls, I said no, and we each got a red one with white snowflakes. Noted the fact that they were only 15 bucks, and continued on with life.

WTF!?!? How lucky am I? Of COURSE they were probably girls robes! Jesus hell, they were even hanging on the same rack as barbie pink, powder blue, and lemon yellow robes of the same style. We picked red because that's a somewhat-masculine looking colour. But the hubster doesn't care, I just said "no" when he asked the question, he was like: "cool.", and now we are officially MATCHING fleecey-red-robe-with-white-snowflake wearers! What other guy on this planet would agree to such madness. He even put the grocery bag down to TRY THEM ON FOR THE RIGHT SIZE (find out he's a 14-16 in ROBE-SIZE) over his clothes. In PUBLIC! He's the best. OK he insists on full-on nudity under-robe, whilst I would be more partial to as-many-layers-as-possible (this was the one pre-requisite to buying the fleecey wonders - typical) but I don't care, I'm still just marveling at the whole concept every time I see them hanging on the wardrobe. What a cool guy.

Maybe I just had too many boyfriends who were overly macho and wholeheartedly anti-cheeze (I tend to be attracted to the stud-cum-rockstar type), and I just keep forgetting that I managed to catch a winner who doesn't play up to that stereotype all the time. But we've had these fuzzy snowflakey things for nearly a week now, and I'm still just fascinated by it.

(BTW it looks so damn cute on him)

I was told by my roommate, back in 2000 when we rocked up to my house in Pretoria with matching top-of-ear-piercings, that there are a lot of guys out there who would be way too insecure, uncomfortable in their masculinity, scared of potential-commitment-issues, and what-what-what, to even hold hands with their gf in public... let alone roll with matching body piercings after only 1 month of dating. I just threw it up to the fact that H. was not a wuss bag, and already happened to be into stuff like tattoos and even had his ear pierced way back before I met him. But she was right. I realize now that He doesn't care about that shit, he just goes with what he likes and doesn't give a rats ass about what the guys would say. We like alot of the same things... ear piercings, champagne, cheeze-ball holiday card rituals, and fleece included, and that's cool with him. On the same tip, I just recently thought about my ex in Aus who I was nearly going to MARRY, who had way earlier announced that he would not be wearing a wedding ring when we got hitched. Serious red-flag issues there.

May I also indulge, while on the subject, and say that I'm really loving the new hairstyle. Granted it's not a hairstyle, per se, rather it's me begging, bribing, and pleading with him not to go to the haircutters. I just love it love it love it. I can't believe I survived all the many bad Cork-haircuts this long. I've ALWAYS liked medium-length hair on guys, and yet it never occurred to me that it would look this good on my manchop. He protests a little bit ("It's a mullet! You're making me have a mullet!"), and then I explain to him that no, if it was a "moo-let" (as he'd say), then there would be no hair hanging over his forehead and ears. A moo-let requires SHORT hair on top AND sides, which he doesn't have at all. Then he says he doesn't like it how his "hair gets caught on de shirt collar always", and I proceed to grope and molest him and all haircut-talk is forgotten.

OK one more (IMHO) hilarious thing about the manckaes that I dearly love, and I love it so much it is going to get me in trouble one day because it will become predictable. His ability to be distracted if you know which buttons to push. Yeah, this is a really selfish thing, but I dearly dearly love it. I just want to pinch his little dutchy cheeks!!! He's always really tired at night, and has a gift for being able to fall asleep within 1 second of hitting the pillow. Not so for me. I always want to have a little pre-sleeping chat (it's a totally lame girl thing, I know). Him: "Baby I'm so tired, can't you just let me go to sleep & talk about it tomorrow?" I beg. He pleads. I beg, he begs. Then I give up and say ok, just go to sleep. Then I pull out the big guns-- and this is what I love: "Baby, who's your favourite coach in the Premiership League?" And like a rocket, he's off! "Oh definitely Rafael Benitez. You knew that didnt you?" Me: "Oh yeah, I forgot. WHy? I didn't think you like Liverpool?" Then we're off. Him: "Oh well he's much more down-to-earth than that asshole Jose Marinho, god I hate dat guy. And it's not that I like Liverpool it's just that I like some of their players, you know like Steven Gerard is awesome and didn't you think they were amazing in the chapionship game against AC Milan this year? And I used to like Newcastle but they fired Bobby Robson and. . . " Before you know it, sleep is no longer a matter of negotiation, and I'm well entertained until I can finally get myself to get some shuteye, or segue the conversation into what I wanted to discuss in the first place. I adore this guy . Liefie if you're reading this, you probably knew that was my trick didn't you? Thanks for playing along anyway. :-) soooo cute.

Rick sent me this, which I think is pretty funny. But it's just getting way too predictable that everyone at work is, like, hot-out-the-gates to send ME these things. Ugh. I just write back with the standard "yeah like it's all MY fault. Go talk to Scott Cullen in Wastewater... HE'S the one who friggin VOTED for dumbass..." Then Scott gets an email. heh heh. yep, all too predictable. Dudes need to get a new schtick, it's getting old. -sigh-

But it is funny.

When I got back from hols (holidays), everything seemed different.

First of all we left in September, and now it's October. HAHAHAAHAAAAAAAAAA

No really. Let's try this again.

Seriously, it was so nice and autumn-ey when we left, and then we rocked up at the Cork Airport monday night at 9pm. It was lashing rain, and gale-force winds were, like the man, trying to beat me down . ---H.& I let out a big fat "oh BALLS!" as we were physically hurled across the tarmac, by the wind, from our nasty-ass ghetto-EasyJet plane. Not even a landing bridge. That's how shitty Cork airport is... you have to, like, hike over Mt. Stupid to get from your plane to the "in" doors.

Then at work the next day: Tall Paul R. and John M. are gone! OK I totally knew they were going to be gone when I got back (they're travelling around India, China, Mongolia and back through Siberia for 6 months) I think that silly freakshow john has a blog for their travels. BTW... Tall Paul R. is the one dressed up like an indian on that photo.

I hate work without those guys. PLUS there's a bunch of new girls in the office. Anyone who knows me knows I really don't like girls all that much. Except my friends of course. And I come back and find them sitting at OUR tea-time table. Dutch Paul W. is gone for a week likewise, on holidays, so my desk area is soooooooooo friggin empty. Caitriona is gone too. For a year. Travelling of course. Bernard is gone for 3 months, building houses for a charity in Hondouras. Are there any nice people left atRPS? Sure there are. Not to worry. But my old posse has disintegrated. The tea-time brigade has been dismantled. No Tall Paul to hang with and act like utter eejots with late at night whilst doing overtime. No more emails with detailed information, specially reserched for me, on the origin of a certain television show that I *once* mentioned I liked. No more "useless infomation of the day" moments in the canteen. My dear friend Tall Paul, who actually KNOWS that my favourite band is The Band, and practicies a damn good "illusion of going down a staircase/escalator that isn't really there" with me, when no one is watching. -sigh-

There's something very unsettling about coming back and finding things a bit off-line.
When I left, I was so swamped I could hardly hold my head up, work-wise. Now I come back and... there's like... crickets.

It's a good feeling though, people are telling me "welcome back" in the halls. I'm utterly shocked at the amount of people in my building who actually realized I was gone?!!? Robert K the waste water engineer? I didnt even think he knew who I was? That's a nice thing.

Those girls at my table really freak me out though. Seriously. Are they nice? I'm left with no other choice but to be social and find out, I guess.

OK so we're back from Botswana and South Africa and now I have like 3 weeks of diary-able events to catch up on and it's going to take forever. ROCK AND ROLL this is going to take awhile.

Well we were in Pretoria for the First weekend. Arrived in Jo'burg airport at something stupid like 7am and it was my own damn fault but I didnt sleep on the plane ride. oops. no, instead we decided to do something much smarter which involved drinking champagne. Which, as always happens when I drink too much wine, makes me wake up in the middle of the night on a sugar high and not be able to get back to sleep. FECKIT. I always get a couple hours of sleep on this flight, but it was not to be this time around, Because I'm getting old and alcohol does new and different things to me which I do not appreciate.

Yeah so anyway we got there and Leith picked us up and immediately we were transported to KampQuality on Hartebeestpoort Dam which is this program/annual daycamp for kids with terminal cancer that I used to help volunteer for when I lived there and since it just happened to fall on the day we arrived (which was my sweetiepie's birthday) we go help serve lunch to these 5-10 year olds (all terminal) kids which was great but we were WRECKED. and it was HELLA hot. Those kids were loving it. I remembered that about KCampQuality... you look at these kids playing in the swimming pool and listening to hip hop, dancing around, running riot, and they look FINE... then you think, "hey, theyse kids aren't going to DIE"... but they are. All of them are. They love the day out though, some of 'em have never been in a swimming pool before (most are really poor, in from the townships), a lot of them don't even get to leave the hospital on a normal day, but this weekend they get to do just that-- have a "normal day". Eat hamburgers, something besides hospital food.

blah blah blah home to P-town by 3pm, no big deal, beers, nap, shower, hang out, dinner, etc. socializing with the P's, it was rockin. a couple days.

Monday up to Gaborone, where the bid'nez is. Gabz-city. Or rather, GABZZZZ- Cit-TAY. 3 and a half hours north of P-town. Had to check up on the office and of course T. Their apartment is awesome, it's set in a gorgeous garden of tropical plants and of course the obligatory swimmingpool and braai area.

Note to self: record +s and -s of Gabz-city at some stage. In writing. you know you have a tendency to glamourize stuff when you're back at the ranch.

A week with T. and Lovely L. It was great to see L. Whereas T. still drives me nuts. At least when he was working for me here, we said goodbye at the end of the workday and went home. Most of the time in G-city we were STAYING with them. It was like T-RAMA. But I really miss L and since they're there because of me, I really wanted to make sure she was doing alright there and enjoying stuff. Turns out she likes it, they like being closer to home, they like the people they've met so far, they like their apartment, and they can definitely do this til H. and I get down there in a year. -whew-

T on the other hand is a drama yet still a good LA. We just had to straighten him out a bit, as he was slacking on the marketing side. Nooooooo, T., the work doesnt walk up to you and throw itself at you like a 2-buck slut. Yes T., you might want to actually pick up the damn phone and CALL the engineering firm next door to see if they have anything that looks like WORK for us. ugh. I won't get into the dirty details. Being a boss is hard. Especially when your employee is your friend.

Oh yeah, and T. PLEASE no more foxers on the side. Like, DUH. Do some work for the damn people who are paying your WAGES for a change? Right?

But all in all, no reasons to freak out. which is what both H. and I needed. To see that this was working. Of course we didn't expect the promised land. And didnt find it either. But it was fine. Alles goed.

I like Gabz because of how integrated it is, compared to South Africa. You can tell there was no apartheid here. Of course there's also no white people here. :-) Well in comparison, of course. Seriously, this is the most integrated african town I've ever been in. Shack over there, millionaire ex-pat mansion next to that, shack next to that, shabeen next to that, decently-constructed apartment complex next to that, shack next to that, SOCCER STADIUM next to that.. . . and all surrounded by high-quality electric fencing atop a 3-metre high prison-style wall. Aaaahh, just like good old Pretoria.

The heat was great, H. will be much happier. We'll be able to have a pool, the puppies will be able to have space, but most of all we'll be able to slooooww the fuck dowwwwn.

Besides T & L's apartment, we also stayed at Bernard the friendly architect's rondavel (photo), about 15 km outside of G-city. It was the most gorgeous place we've ever stayed in. Literally in the middle of the bush... pain in the ass baboons and all. Donkeys on the road, bird calls to wake you up. Bernard alternates every 3 wks in between England and Gabz, so whenever he's not there, everyone uses his rondavel for mini-honeymoons. Again, the perks oh the perks. Sitting out on the front stoop, under the unbelivable shitload of stars, eating braai vleis and drinking beer with my baby.... listening to the sounds of the bush and seeing the twinkley little lights of Gabz on the skyline
.... it just settled everything.

I'll be doing my own Teach-Yourself-Setswana course over the next year, and one thing's for sure it will definitely come in handy. AGAIN we nearly got arrested leaving to return to S.A. on the last day (what is it with us nearly getting arrested every time we come to Botswana!?), and of course the smart-ass cop who was giving Hannes a bunch of trouble greeted us in Setswana. L. and Jo and Karl and a bunch of our peeps there are pretty good in it and it definitely gives you a leg to stand on, even though everyone there is fluent in english.

Went kayaking on Gaborone Dam, which was at 20%. YIKES. Man, major water issues there. Nevermind the fact we're talking about the Kalahari desert ecosystem, but seriously, those poor bastards are experiencing a shitty drought at the moment.

Anyway, the work got done, we went back off to Pretoria for the last few days to actually get some bloody peace from the office (on our so-called HOLIDAY, duh) and sponge off Leith and Nor for awhile longer. Met up with Dr. Bill from the university days, drank more beers, got better tans, ate shitloads of awesome food and experienced the nostalgia of our old stomping ground some more. I love P-town. And Leith &Nor. Why couldn't they have been my parents? Why is god so cruel? Oh shit yeah we even took Kalceeeey to the circus. I had never been to a circus before. I liked the contortionists. I still can't help but look at them from a yoga perspective though rather than a freakshow.

Whate else? Man this has got to be the most boring blog i ever posted. But I won't remember all this stuff in 2 years so whatever. Get it done.

I like holidays because I like spending every minute of the day, every day, with H. It's so much easier without the stress of life and puppies and cooking dinners and work. I hope retirement is like holidays. Then I would have something to look forward to about old age, instead of fearing it so much and freaking out every time I think about turning 30 next year. Shit.

In Pretoria now, recovering from Botswana-=-- no blogs there hahaha!

The business was visited, work was done, suntans were acquired. Just wait til photos get uploaded, i think they're pretty good. I dearly love that place man.

Now time for must needed showers and rest and decadence and shopping.

Get this desert sand out of my hair and some serious cream on my skin. :)

Back in Ireland in a week. damn.

I'm so glad this is going to work.