mmmm... Kalahari Kampin'
0 Comments Published by Oh Wayward One on 29 May 2007 at 5/29/2007 12:24:00 pm.
What a great weekend.
We loaded up the "new" rig on friday afternoon, skipped work, and headed off into the bush (Khutse) with Petra and Vincent. I thought it strange for newlywed V to be leaving his new bride (K.) behind, but alas she had to work. And he and P. slept in seperate tents so there would be no funny-business! HA! (as if)
anyway, before we even made it to Khutse, we had accomplished our virgin tyre explosion, so it's good to get that out of the way. And the Mr. had it changed in 5 minutes flat. Not bad for being stuck out in the middle of nowhere on a sand track. Oh and V. drives so fast that he and P. were about 2 miles ahead of us so didnt even know we were waylayed. Nonetheless we found them waiting for us down the road and had a beer before we moved on.
Made the campsite about 10 minutes til sunset (hauling ass) and managed to set up camp before dark, we were the only ones in Khutse the whole weekend, except for this one other Land Rover with some South African guys in it - allllllll the animals and space you could ever imagine, just for ourselves. Well after all, it was FREEZING FRICKING COLD and most Batswana just dont *get* the beauty of winter camping. heheheheh. their loss.
What else can I say? We ate brilliant, drank lots (ohhhhhhhh boy hangover from hell on saturday), had brilliant drives through the tracks, but most of the animals seemed to be on holiday as we didnt even hear the lions roar at night, which is usually a given in Khutse. Boo hoo. But hell, maybe it's just to cold for those wuss-bags too. But saw loads of Ostrich, hella giraffe, every antelope in the book (kudu, Oryx, steenbok, impala, springbok) and a truckload of birds and whatever.
Never go camping with a pro photographer. Ugh. Vincent! "STOP! FORWARD JUST A LITTLE! STOP! REVERSE! WOAH!! HOLD UP! BACK UP!..." and so on. The. whole. time. but then again rather do game driving in our rig than his... we have cup holders and a sun roof for standing and looking out of - much better views. ;-)
P & V cooked on friday night and we had slabs of impala smoked in the coals, foil-wrapped sweet potatoes, coal-roasted pumpkin, cake, cheese, wine. . . .mmmm.
Then saturday I made my famous game stew (oxtail & impala) in the potjie (3-legged pot). Bacon & egg sandwiches for breakfast and beer & nibblies all day long. Loaded up & came home on sunday.
Some photos of the weekend....
We loaded up the "new" rig on friday afternoon, skipped work, and headed off into the bush (Khutse) with Petra and Vincent. I thought it strange for newlywed V to be leaving his new bride (K.) behind, but alas she had to work. And he and P. slept in seperate tents so there would be no funny-business! HA! (as if)
anyway, before we even made it to Khutse, we had accomplished our virgin tyre explosion, so it's good to get that out of the way. And the Mr. had it changed in 5 minutes flat. Not bad for being stuck out in the middle of nowhere on a sand track. Oh and V. drives so fast that he and P. were about 2 miles ahead of us so didnt even know we were waylayed. Nonetheless we found them waiting for us down the road and had a beer before we moved on.
Made the campsite about 10 minutes til sunset (hauling ass) and managed to set up camp before dark, we were the only ones in Khutse the whole weekend, except for this one other Land Rover with some South African guys in it - allllllll the animals and space you could ever imagine, just for ourselves. Well after all, it was FREEZING FRICKING COLD and most Batswana just dont *get* the beauty of winter camping. heheheheh. their loss.
What else can I say? We ate brilliant, drank lots (ohhhhhhhh boy hangover from hell on saturday), had brilliant drives through the tracks, but most of the animals seemed to be on holiday as we didnt even hear the lions roar at night, which is usually a given in Khutse. Boo hoo. But hell, maybe it's just to cold for those wuss-bags too. But saw loads of Ostrich, hella giraffe, every antelope in the book (kudu, Oryx, steenbok, impala, springbok) and a truckload of birds and whatever.
Never go camping with a pro photographer. Ugh. Vincent! "STOP! FORWARD JUST A LITTLE! STOP! REVERSE! WOAH!! HOLD UP! BACK UP!..." and so on. The. whole. time. but then again rather do game driving in our rig than his... we have cup holders and a sun roof for standing and looking out of - much better views. ;-)
P & V cooked on friday night and we had slabs of impala smoked in the coals, foil-wrapped sweet potatoes, coal-roasted pumpkin, cake, cheese, wine. . . .mmmm.
Then saturday I made my famous game stew (oxtail & impala) in the potjie (3-legged pot). Bacon & egg sandwiches for breakfast and beer & nibblies all day long. Loaded up & came home on sunday.
Some photos of the weekend....
Let's air some dirty laundry, shall we?
0 Comments Published by Oh Wayward One on 28 May 2007 at 5/28/2007 03:13:00 pm.
>:-%
My family is sooooooooooo disfunctional and psycho I just have to do these things. For my own good, for my own future, for whatever type of "family" setup I may ever end up having.
So here's the latest:
This time Dear old Dad gets to be involved. The background is: Dad = desperate to come down to BW to visit Daughter, but Mother says "no" because she wants a "personal invitation" to be extended. Daughter's Husband agrees to issue said "personal invitation" and sends Mother an email saying "would you like to come in September?". No answer. Daughter leaks the news to Father that invitation has not been acknowledged for over 2 wks now, and subsequently dad goes off to investigate... Let's put him in blue:
Just had a somewhat lively discussion. While it is still fresh on my mind I shall attempt E-mail. In response to my query to Mom about possibly visiting you she conveyed much disappointment about daughter. Daughter did not call on Mother's Day. Daughter sent present by courrier (Brother). Daughter sent no card as she has done in previous years even while being in distant places. Daughter did not respond to E-card or something like that. Mother is still mad about daughter's remark about mother's clothing at Glenribben. Mother gets many queries from friends with daughters, all who ask, "What did you hear from Jill on Mother's Day?" Mother's tearful response is "Nothing."
Mother will not address invitation to Botswana from son-in-law because daughter doesn't care enough to make invitation herself. Why would Mother want to spend $X,XXX to go have miserable time with insensitive daughter? She could just as easily spend same amount somewhere else and not have to create mayhem for herself and others due to personal opinions, hurt feelings, insensitivities and all of that stuff.
Father and daughter's husband don't deserve to get caught up in Mother/Daughter hostilities.
Will continue to read your (Bots) blog. Dad
So I debate whether or not to write back. Do I dare to perpetuate the farce by even acknowledging it? Will I be "stirring" the situation up even farther only to regret it later if I comment? Or will ignoring it only fuel the family fire and bring on even more retard-o emails?
BOLLOCKS!!!
Let's put me in green:
Dad
As usual I am genuinely sorry that you have to get caught in the middle of this totally bizarre situation. For the record though, I hope you can see all those random rantings for what they are which is complete rubbish! i.e. daughter/son-in-law DID call on mother's day, mother DID hear nice voicemail left when she could not be reached, daughter SENT PRESENT in the only way she could physically arrange it to get there ON TIME since mother's day is not the same in BW and the 13th of May snuck up on her pretty haphazardly, etc. etc. (believe me, the wrath would've been 10x bigger if present arrived LATE). And quite frankly, since when are we expected to send a "thank you" response to someone else's "thank you" e-card??? Good grief! It's obviously just not ever enough, and each item on the list will surely go down in history at the top of the "most terrible things ever done to anyone" in mom's eyes.
And while my lack of interest in gratuitous grovelling and delivering ingenuine pleas for forgiveness is obviously having a negative impact on you, please understand my position whereby now that I am not used to being manipulated any more. I live a generally manipulation-free lifestyle these days. I do not handle these games in the way that perhaps I used to when I was living in your house (i.e. caving and fake/insincere begging for mercy) when the routine threats of groundings or taking away phone privileges, etc., got me to dance like a puppet however mom wanted at any time. Notably, only to lead me to a place where I believed that "it's ok to lie to your parents about being sorry and grovel to get what you want". At age 31 I can see that routine isn't sustainable, and I choose to not deal with this kind of vicious circle in that way. Please don't think I can't see this from your point of view - I hate it that now when the going gets rough, I'm being punished by mother holding father hostage, and punishing him as well. Notwithstanding all the disingenuous and false apologies I've ever made in my life, I am really, really, very sorry about that, Dad.
Anyway I'm not making excuses when I say that honestly the last email I got from mom IN APRIL, was the following:
Enjoyed reading your recent updates on the blog today but so disappointed you've chosen to get cats. I guess we won't be visiting, you know that I'm allergic and thus can not handle being in your house.
Nothing more, just that. It's these kind of passive/aggressive childish acts that make the idea of begging and pleading with mom to grace us with her presence leave a very bad taste in my mouth. And as far as setting an example for a lesson in apologies, even after we set her straight on the cat issue, I've seen nothing. Literally, nothing with even so much as a "whoops, unfortunate case of jumping to conclusions, my fault!" slant to it. But suffice to say, I've moved on will not hang around holding it over her head for the rest of our lives. Actually I'm annoyed with myself for realizing I still have that email in my inbox
Which is why I will always be happy to host my parents whenever they choose to come visit, and would not let petty nonsense get in the way with showing you both a good time while you're here. But I hope now you can understand that my outlook on the situation is that I want mom to come when she's good and ready, and if that is 10 years from now, then so be it. We all know mom and if she wants to do something, she does it. She's a big girl and has never needed my permission nor written requests or anything else to do what she wants or go where she wants, and I think this is one of those cases where she just needs to decide for herself on her own when she's going to come visit.
We've tried it this way, by Johannes extending the invite -by his suggestion, not mine- obviously that isn't good enough (surprise), and her ignoring of his request is just frankly, rude. So I think it'll be better for everyone if she comes whenever she's good and ready and WANTS to come. I don't want visitors who don't want to be here anyway.
With that said, I think you should come whenever you want to, as well, even if it's by yourself. Obviously you won't, but I think you should, for whatever that's worth.
As for involving you, I don't want to. I'm not asking you to be a panderer or a go-between on my behalf. History shows that it doesn't seem to work anyway and you only get the raw end of the deal. However, Johannes gets involved on his own dime. Believe me, if it were up to him he would've sorted mom out in a way that would've given her a coronary if I haven't stopped him countless times. In these situations he has a very confrontational temperament and I applaud his attempts at diplomacy during times when I would rather just let the mom-issues go and ignore her. But never have I actually put him up to "getting caught up" against his will. He is kind enough to step in when he knows that it may work in our advantage (i.e. mom doesn't play the same emotional-manipulation games with him that she does with me), but never on anyone's account other than his own. Not that I feel like I have to defend either of us, but rather just so you know.
Oh the fun and games. And now I've wasted MY time posting this RUBBISH into my blog, rather than filling up a happy page or two about my fan-tabulous camping trip over the weekend, full of good food, booze, good friends, and hella giraffe.
DAMN these people!!
Oh well. my new yoga class starts tonight and I'm officially as of RIGHT NOW going to go back to being semi-excited about it. Ta-DOW!
My family is sooooooooooo disfunctional and psycho I just have to do these things. For my own good, for my own future, for whatever type of "family" setup I may ever end up having.
So here's the latest:
This time Dear old Dad gets to be involved. The background is: Dad = desperate to come down to BW to visit Daughter, but Mother says "no" because she wants a "personal invitation" to be extended. Daughter's Husband agrees to issue said "personal invitation" and sends Mother an email saying "would you like to come in September?". No answer. Daughter leaks the news to Father that invitation has not been acknowledged for over 2 wks now, and subsequently dad goes off to investigate... Let's put him in blue:
Just had a somewhat lively discussion. While it is still fresh on my mind I shall attempt E-mail. In response to my query to Mom about possibly visiting you she conveyed much disappointment about daughter. Daughter did not call on Mother's Day. Daughter sent present by courrier (Brother). Daughter sent no card as she has done in previous years even while being in distant places. Daughter did not respond to E-card or something like that. Mother is still mad about daughter's remark about mother's clothing at Glenribben. Mother gets many queries from friends with daughters, all who ask, "What did you hear from Jill on Mother's Day?" Mother's tearful response is "Nothing."
Mother will not address invitation to Botswana from son-in-law because daughter doesn't care enough to make invitation herself. Why would Mother want to spend $X,XXX to go have miserable time with insensitive daughter? She could just as easily spend same amount somewhere else and not have to create mayhem for herself and others due to personal opinions, hurt feelings, insensitivities and all of that stuff.
Father and daughter's husband don't deserve to get caught up in Mother/Daughter hostilities.
Will continue to read your (Bots) blog. Dad
So I debate whether or not to write back. Do I dare to perpetuate the farce by even acknowledging it? Will I be "stirring" the situation up even farther only to regret it later if I comment? Or will ignoring it only fuel the family fire and bring on even more retard-o emails?
BOLLOCKS!!!
Let's put me in green:
Dad
As usual I am genuinely sorry that you have to get caught in the middle of this totally bizarre situation. For the record though, I hope you can see all those random rantings for what they are which is complete rubbish! i.e. daughter/son-in-law DID call on mother's day, mother DID hear nice voicemail left when she could not be reached, daughter SENT PRESENT in the only way she could physically arrange it to get there ON TIME since mother's day is not the same in BW and the 13th of May snuck up on her pretty haphazardly, etc. etc. (believe me, the wrath would've been 10x bigger if present arrived LATE). And quite frankly, since when are we expected to send a "thank you" response to someone else's "thank you" e-card??? Good grief! It's obviously just not ever enough, and each item on the list will surely go down in history at the top of the "most terrible things ever done to anyone" in mom's eyes.
And while my lack of interest in gratuitous grovelling and delivering ingenuine pleas for forgiveness is obviously having a negative impact on you, please understand my position whereby now that I am not used to being manipulated any more. I live a generally manipulation-free lifestyle these days. I do not handle these games in the way that perhaps I used to when I was living in your house (i.e. caving and fake/insincere begging for mercy) when the routine threats of groundings or taking away phone privileges, etc., got me to dance like a puppet however mom wanted at any time. Notably, only to lead me to a place where I believed that "it's ok to lie to your parents about being sorry and grovel to get what you want". At age 31 I can see that routine isn't sustainable, and I choose to not deal with this kind of vicious circle in that way. Please don't think I can't see this from your point of view - I hate it that now when the going gets rough, I'm being punished by mother holding father hostage, and punishing him as well. Notwithstanding all the disingenuous and false apologies I've ever made in my life, I am really, really, very sorry about that, Dad.
Anyway I'm not making excuses when I say that honestly the last email I got from mom IN APRIL, was the following:
Enjoyed reading your recent updates on the blog today but so disappointed you've chosen to get cats. I guess we won't be visiting, you know that I'm allergic and thus can not handle being in your house.
Nothing more, just that. It's these kind of passive/aggressive childish acts that make the idea of begging and pleading with mom to grace us with her presence leave a very bad taste in my mouth. And as far as setting an example for a lesson in apologies, even after we set her straight on the cat issue, I've seen nothing. Literally, nothing with even so much as a "whoops, unfortunate case of jumping to conclusions, my fault!" slant to it. But suffice to say, I've moved on will not hang around holding it over her head for the rest of our lives. Actually I'm annoyed with myself for realizing I still have that email in my inbox
Which is why I will always be happy to host my parents whenever they choose to come visit, and would not let petty nonsense get in the way with showing you both a good time while you're here. But I hope now you can understand that my outlook on the situation is that I want mom to come when she's good and ready, and if that is 10 years from now, then so be it. We all know mom and if she wants to do something, she does it. She's a big girl and has never needed my permission nor written requests or anything else to do what she wants or go where she wants, and I think this is one of those cases where she just needs to decide for herself on her own when she's going to come visit.
We've tried it this way, by Johannes extending the invite -by his suggestion, not mine- obviously that isn't good enough (surprise), and her ignoring of his request is just frankly, rude. So I think it'll be better for everyone if she comes whenever she's good and ready and WANTS to come. I don't want visitors who don't want to be here anyway.
With that said, I think you should come whenever you want to, as well, even if it's by yourself. Obviously you won't, but I think you should, for whatever that's worth.
As for involving you, I don't want to. I'm not asking you to be a panderer or a go-between on my behalf. History shows that it doesn't seem to work anyway and you only get the raw end of the deal. However, Johannes gets involved on his own dime. Believe me, if it were up to him he would've sorted mom out in a way that would've given her a coronary if I haven't stopped him countless times. In these situations he has a very confrontational temperament and I applaud his attempts at diplomacy during times when I would rather just let the mom-issues go and ignore her. But never have I actually put him up to "getting caught up" against his will. He is kind enough to step in when he knows that it may work in our advantage (i.e. mom doesn't play the same emotional-manipulation games with him that she does with me), but never on anyone's account other than his own. Not that I feel like I have to defend either of us, but rather just so you know.
Oh the fun and games. And now I've wasted MY time posting this RUBBISH into my blog, rather than filling up a happy page or two about my fan-tabulous camping trip over the weekend, full of good food, booze, good friends, and hella giraffe.
DAMN these people!!
Oh well. my new yoga class starts tonight and I'm officially as of RIGHT NOW going to go back to being semi-excited about it. Ta-DOW!
this one's for you...
0 Comments Published by Oh Wayward One on 23 May 2007 at 5/23/2007 03:03:00 pm.
...my dearest dearest friend who keeps making fun of my hatred for Beyoncé & is always harassing me about how I can hate on her so much.
All I can say is not only does this article make me piss myself in hysterics, but it also sets out the facts (yes, FACTS! It's all TRUE!) in such a way that I nearly choke on all the "AMEN!"s pouring out of my mouth non-stop!!! Man I wish I'd found this back in 2003... the peak of all my hatin'.
HA!
so take THAT!
;-)
HAY-TAAAAAAAAAHHH!!!!!!! (that's me!)
All I can say is not only does this article make me piss myself in hysterics, but it also sets out the facts (yes, FACTS! It's all TRUE!) in such a way that I nearly choke on all the "AMEN!"s pouring out of my mouth non-stop!!! Man I wish I'd found this back in 2003... the peak of all my hatin'.
HA!
so take THAT!
;-)
HAY-TAAAAAAAAAHHH!!!!!!! (that's me!)
From where we stood on friday afternoon, it wasn't looking good. I managed to end the work-week on an unbelievable low with my psycho maternal relative giving me grief, even involving the paternal unit as well (but I won't ruin my own monday by going into the details).
Man, saturday night was (how long has it been since I used this phrase exactly?) THE BOMB!
I forget sometimes how deeply my love of live music really does run. I forget it because I've been starved for way too long. All my non-irish friends have always somehow been under the impression that Ireland was some sort of mecca for music lovers and that I should surely be soaking up the waves of unbelievable prodigy laden talent on every street corner, every day of the week, while we were there. But trad sessions and droning dum-deedleedee behind the roar of an otherwise non-interested binging crowd doesn't cut it. For 4 years I was deprived (with the exception of 1 BAD Bob Dylan gig in a circus tent, 1 ace Robert Plant gig in the same circus tent, and 1 semi-o.k. Dwight Yoakam gig in the . . . same circus tent) of affordable live shows within a 3-hour driving distance. But the drought is over......... my muse has returned...... I feel like myself again........
Thanks to Freshlyground. OK normally I'm not a huge afro-pop fan but how can you NOT be, when you see a gig like this!?!?
First off, the venue: the same outdoor campsite-style joint where we had the Queen's Day celebrations with all the cheeseheads.
Secondly, the company: There were the usual suspects, i.e. Miss Light-of-my-Current-Social-Life, queen of all things dreadlocked (Petra), F&Lil, Sj&Mar, the Mr. (of course), & Kate.
And the extra special factor of meeting new people, REALLY GREAT new people. Uba... my 2nd new favorite person ever. She's originally from Somalia but basically lived most her life in Sydney. My age, fun, hilarious, yoga-doing, married-without-kids, Aus-loving, restaurant-dining, gorgeous Ubs. Pictured below.
We also met Ross, another aussie who is currently in the midst of bicycling from the top of Africa to the bottom, with his new bride. They started up in Ethiopia and after 4 months of some serious peddling, are here in BW for a brief stopover, because they're friends with Robin so they have a bit of a place to rest the butts and get a bit spoilt. Wifey wasn't at the gig though as she opted to go to Joburg to pick up Robin from the airport instead. Hearing the story of the bike trip makes me desperate to do something similar. It's been amazing so far, but they've had lots of challenges and drama... just like I like it. Not to mention being FIT AS HELL. yowza. All that aside, he's just a really nice guy and hella fun to drink beers, talk Aus, and generally hang around with. Too bad they're off again on Wednesday.
Thirdly, the MUSIC. OMG it was perfect. Under the stars, surrounded by fun people, a smoking braai by the bar, and FOUR bands (total surprise to us). The 3 warmup bands were fantastic, but especially the 1st one, which was a traditional Botswana group complete with traditional dancers who ATE THE FACE OF THE PLACE! Fantastic! (bad photo)
When the main act came on, the place went mad! And the vibe these guys have is unbelievable. The lead singer girl who's this pint-sized in the true sense of the word (i.e. shorter than me!?) amazing chick with vocal cords like I never heard just blew the place up with her charisma, showmanship, dancing, AGH! It was fabulous. They play all sorts of instruments and their music is just . . . I don't know, full of good vibes. Upbeat, fan-friggin-tastic to dance to, and totally MADE for playing live. I dont know how often I'd listen to a CD by them, if I had it, but what I do know is if I EVER get a chance to see them live again, I'm so. there.
Did I mention this little Xhosa powerhouse on the lead vocals?! I think I'm in love with her. Seriously. And their flute/sax/percussionist dude was a hottie too. Didnt get a photo of him though. Damn.
Anyway, I'm just too enamoured to even go on. I see why people listen to these guys, it's just... you know, music that makes you happy. Dare I say "extatic" even?! I dunno, but it's DEFINITELY great festival music. Definitely one of the best live gigs I've seen in, like, forever.
The crowd was really amazing too. Probably the biggest multi-cultural crowd I've been in since we've gotten here. And what a difference that makes to the overall vibe. It's weird, but I dare say it had a wee bit of a "love-in" feel to it.
Me and P.Anyway enough of that. Sunday we hooked back up with P. and Ross and they came over to our place for coffee before we all went to a lecture on Snakes of These Parts. I can now confidently identify a Puff Adder, African Rock Python, and Spitting Cobra. I also learned that only 7 out of the 70 species of snake in Botswana can kill you. Amen to that!
Then we said good bye and farewell good luck etc to Ross, and the Mr. and I went on a really lovely bike ride to the old abandoned Lion Park, and back through the bush to our place. The trail we found would make an absolutely amazing running trail once I get back into shape again. It goes through some beautiful savannah and along the foot of the local kopjes.
Zoe is going back to the SPCA for adoption today. They think she'll have a better chance at getting adopted by someone if she's still in her gorgeous puppy phase, before she gets all leggy and awkward and adolescent. Which I totally agree with, and was kind of worried about from the beginning. But I'm going to miss her. She was really sweet, and we were *nearly there* with the house-training (which I won't miss). Honestly I dont even think Sech will notice she's gone, he's settled WAY too comfortably into the house. I even find him sneaking off into the bedroom to drape himself across the bed. Which is a big no-no in our house but he's just moved himself right in and dubbed himself King of the castle. AGH! Oh well, the main thing is that his leg is getting better and I love him to bits! He's completely low-maintenence, completely loveable, and 100% good... ALL the time. The best-behaved foster we've had yet.
Wontchu take me to.... Puppy TOWN...!
1 Comments Published by Oh Wayward One on 16 May 2007 at 5/16/2007 02:56:00 pm.
In our 5 years of doing this welfare-gig we have never had a foster kid this big:
"Sech": the biggest boerboel I've ever seen.
This is our latest charge from BSPCA. They rang us on Monday morning and asked if we'd take him while his leg heals. He got hit by a car (or something) and his leg is totally mangled and his owner was too poor to be able to pay for all the bandages and care and stuff, so he handed poor old Sech over adoption. The dressing of the injury is a pretty high-maintenence (and disgusting... exposed bone, eeww!) so they thought rather put him in foster care than have to worry about it getting infected in the SPCA kennels. Fair enough, we're good looker-afterers.
OK so the catch came when we arrived in the afternoon to fetch him. Dear, sweet, lovely Daniel says to us something to the effect of: "there's a slight catch... we have this little 'issue' here with Sech..." I braced myself thinking it would be something like "he'll eat you" or whatever (he's so big he can lay on a 3-seater couch and still spill over the arms of it). But instead, it turns out that the catch is that he comes with a bit of baggage:
...Zoe*, the whatever-it-is puppy.
(*my name choice! Sech came with his. I don't understand it but am thinking maybe it was meant to be short for the Setswana/Sotho word "Sechaba"???????? ="nation")
Apparently when Sech arrived, the only kennel space they had available was with this sad and lonely baby puppy, and as soon as the big guy moved in there, she bonded instantly to him and follows him around everywhere and is absolutely in pieces if they're seperated for even 2 minutes! So being that they didn't want to traumatize her any more than she already was, they thought they'd ask if we'd be ok with taking both.
well, DUH, of course!
5 dogs, man, it's like.... well actually it's not the first time. I think it's the 3rd, actually. Once we had 1 foster and were looking after Ann's dog during the same weekend, and another time we had a foster and also were babysitting Peta's.... so that was also a count of 5. (In Ireland, in a small house with a small yard!) At least now we have the proper space to accommodate! And thank god for that seeing as Sech is nearly bigger than me & the Mr. stacked on top of each other!!!!
The funny part is that I opened up the door to the kitten-holding area, to see if Skyler and Owen were still there (they were! they got bumped up into the cattery area though with all the big cats now) and to say hi and see how they'd grown since they left us. As soon as I opened the door, this baby goat comes running out! With another baby puppy (even smaller than Zoe) in tow!! It was hi-larious. And I loved the baby goat up and quizzed Daniel all about his stats and situation etc, and Daniel goes "you know it's funny, you're our only foster family at the moment, so we were going to ask you to take HIM, if Sech hadn't come along." Yep, they know I'm a sucker alright.
This baby goat was so adorable, and the baby puppy had latched onto it, just like Zoe had to Sech. Not sure if puppy thought he was a goat, or if goat thought he was a puppy. And why they were being detained in the kitten room I have no idea but whatever!
Zoe looks like a baby Reilly. Which is sweet because we never got to see Reilly when she was a baby....
These 2 are literally attached at the... legs...
"Sech": the biggest boerboel I've ever seen.
This is our latest charge from BSPCA. They rang us on Monday morning and asked if we'd take him while his leg heals. He got hit by a car (or something) and his leg is totally mangled and his owner was too poor to be able to pay for all the bandages and care and stuff, so he handed poor old Sech over adoption. The dressing of the injury is a pretty high-maintenence (and disgusting... exposed bone, eeww!) so they thought rather put him in foster care than have to worry about it getting infected in the SPCA kennels. Fair enough, we're good looker-afterers.
OK so the catch came when we arrived in the afternoon to fetch him. Dear, sweet, lovely Daniel says to us something to the effect of: "there's a slight catch... we have this little 'issue' here with Sech..." I braced myself thinking it would be something like "he'll eat you" or whatever (he's so big he can lay on a 3-seater couch and still spill over the arms of it). But instead, it turns out that the catch is that he comes with a bit of baggage:
...Zoe*, the whatever-it-is puppy.
(*my name choice! Sech came with his. I don't understand it but am thinking maybe it was meant to be short for the Setswana/Sotho word "Sechaba"???????? ="nation")
Apparently when Sech arrived, the only kennel space they had available was with this sad and lonely baby puppy, and as soon as the big guy moved in there, she bonded instantly to him and follows him around everywhere and is absolutely in pieces if they're seperated for even 2 minutes! So being that they didn't want to traumatize her any more than she already was, they thought they'd ask if we'd be ok with taking both.
well, DUH, of course!
5 dogs, man, it's like.... well actually it's not the first time. I think it's the 3rd, actually. Once we had 1 foster and were looking after Ann's dog during the same weekend, and another time we had a foster and also were babysitting Peta's.... so that was also a count of 5. (In Ireland, in a small house with a small yard!) At least now we have the proper space to accommodate! And thank god for that seeing as Sech is nearly bigger than me & the Mr. stacked on top of each other!!!!
The funny part is that I opened up the door to the kitten-holding area, to see if Skyler and Owen were still there (they were! they got bumped up into the cattery area though with all the big cats now) and to say hi and see how they'd grown since they left us. As soon as I opened the door, this baby goat comes running out! With another baby puppy (even smaller than Zoe) in tow!! It was hi-larious. And I loved the baby goat up and quizzed Daniel all about his stats and situation etc, and Daniel goes "you know it's funny, you're our only foster family at the moment, so we were going to ask you to take HIM, if Sech hadn't come along." Yep, they know I'm a sucker alright.
This baby goat was so adorable, and the baby puppy had latched onto it, just like Zoe had to Sech. Not sure if puppy thought he was a goat, or if goat thought he was a puppy. And why they were being detained in the kitten room I have no idea but whatever!
Zoe looks like a baby Reilly. Which is sweet because we never got to see Reilly when she was a baby....
These 2 are literally attached at the... legs...
If I write this blog now, then I will have successfully made it through the whole morning, right up to lunch without getting any work done at all! Why not indulge a little. What would really make this moment complete would be if I could have a little soundbyte from "Office Space" playing on a loop with the Chotchkie's Waiter saying "ohhh looks like someone's got a case of the Mondays..."
This weekend was halvsies/halvsies in terms of quality... Friday was awesome, we went out to the new Ethiopian/Abyssinian coffee shop with Petra. This place's gimmick is to do a full-on Ethiopian-Abyssinian buffet for dinner on fridays now. The food was sensational! And after a rough week the beers went down really nicely. It was also a good vibe because we had to get up early on Saturday to go to that &*£%$ wedding in Malahapye (2hrs away), and she had to get up early to work, so all 3 of us wanted to have an early night but also wanted to eat something amazing and have a few drinks. Which we did! Fred & Lilly joined us as well and it was just that perfect vibe of the right group of people with the right objectives for the right type of friday-night hangings-outings at the right time, etc etc. We sat out on the terrace and ate ourselves stupid and laughed and talked and ranted and sunk a few weekend pints and it was flippin' great. Exactly what I needed.
OK we missed our traditional friday-night sundowners at the pub (I'm sure our regular drink-bringer James didnt know what to do with himself without us) but this was even better.
And, P. and we organized what will end up being my first (FINALLY!) gig event here in BW. This semi-famous afro-fusion band called Freshly Ground is actually coming TO GABZ-CITY!!! At 100Pula per ticket, I can't imagine how and why they're managing to pull off 2 shows (That's a whole half-month income for some folks around here!) with an audience, but they're good and well-known, and f'in A! am I excited to finally get some live music back in my life. It'll be freakadelic.
Then Saturday was the wedding. We had to fetch T. at her place at (gag!) 8 a.m.!!! What with my obsession with "The Great Saturday Sleep-in" every weekend, this was way beyond my recipe for a good saturday. The wedding was bleeeeehhhhhhhhhhhh. I mean I'm so glad we were invited and so glad we went but the whole service was in Setswana (although upon spotting the half-dozen whiteypants in various parts of the audience, they did call up a translator which I thought was totally sweet) and the soundsystem was crap so we couldnt even hear the translator and the Batswana couldnt even here the preacher! DAMN those ceremonies are long. Started at 10am, finished at about 1. That is three long hours of sitting on a really terribly-crafted wooden bench with no backrest on it, struggling to hear a word, and being so far at the back that you cant even see the bride and groom. Again, I'm so glad we went, but on the fun-scale of 1 to 10 it would honestly boil down to about a 2.
Then the lunch... the way village weddings work here is that every man woman and dog can come to the wedding. Even if they dont know the bride and groom, if you know it's happening, you can come. Heck, weddings are a reason to live, out in the villages where there's nothing to do but sit around all day, work, sleep, and eat. They're the social events of the year and everyone goes. This yields about a good 500 people at the lunch. Most of 'em don't even go to the ceremony (because it's boring, duh) they just rock up to get fed. I can't imagine being a bride who has to cook enough food to feed a whole village AND the bride/groom's friends and family who may not even live there but drive up for the wedding anyway. It's friggin' expensive! No wonder T. says she and her honey "can't afford to get married yet".
Anyway we stood in the blazing sun for over an HOUR in the food queue, with people elbowing and pushing and shoving (they're all totally aware that the brides often underestimate the actual number of people who rock up on the day, and food sometimes runs out.) By the time we got our turns, the plates were gone and we got paper plates and plastic forks and about 80% starch(es), 15% meat, and only 5% veg/salad. Talk about carbohydrate coma on the 2-hr drive back home. We ate, a few prayers were said, we left. That was it. bleehhhhh. No booze, no dancing, nobody else we knew there except for T., and oh yeah, we were all 3 placed at what obviously happened to be "the old granny" table, where the elderly all got served and we were the only ones who had to physically get up and stand out in the line to wait for our food. I totally admire the Batswana way of life with the "respect for the elder" stuff, but man I would'a killed to be 90 years old on that day, which is pretty hard to comprehend considering I hit emotional rock bottom just for turning 31.
Luckily the whole early-morning wedding thing meant that we were home by dinner time at which stage we were just too blehhhhhhh to do anything decent, so couch/tv vegetation commenced. Then Sunday we built a fence for Reggie, and in the aftermath of what happened last week, got invited over to the OTHER neighbours for tea (the H's) and got briefed on all the expat gossip that you'd ever need to know and more. The H's are probably the most "established" expat family in the city (and strangely enough we happen to live right next door - "strange" in the fact that their architecturally amazing mansion totally juxtaposes our humble little pre-fab jobby) and the Mr. is really sweet, lovely, soft-spoken, bird-watcher, down-to-earth, nature-lover retired guy you'll ever meet while she is more the traditional white "madam": full of gossip, full of complaints and bitching/moaning and uber-concerned with all things material. In essence they're a bit of a mis-matched hoot. Just so long as you can get past the Mrs.'s incessant complaining, they're great for a bit of a laugh and a serious chin-wag. My dearly beloved told me after we left, that I "talked too much". But it's just impossible to not have a big verbal-diarrhea session with these folks, they're so chatty (I think they're bored with a bit of an empty-nest syndrome thing going on). Anything you want to know about ANYONE who's ANYONE in Gabs (including our psycho landlord), just ask the H's. Or rather, don't even bother to ask, just show up and you'll get the whole earful. For hours. But notwithstanding this, they're dog lovers as well... Nugget (Golden Retriever) and Cody (the mutt) are just precious. Oh, and her pottery studio is amazing. I'm *this close* to signing up for her beginners class. But money issues may prevent this just yet.
Watched "Lord Of War" last night with Nicholas Cage. I must say I really liked the movie, despite it making me so angry. There's lots of movies like that, I guess. It made me angry for Africa, angry for capitalism, angry for society in general, and just plain old pissed off. Oh, AND I hate Nicholas Cage, but this was bearable. Jared Leto was HOT hot hot, and Bridget Moynahan looked stun-NING!
Another win for Ferrari/Felipe but I'm really annoyed about this Lewis Hamilton nonsense so I'm not really having a very good season so far and I'm kinda un-motivated as a fan in this weird surreal post-Schumacher era. ugh.
This weekend was halvsies/halvsies in terms of quality... Friday was awesome, we went out to the new Ethiopian/Abyssinian coffee shop with Petra. This place's gimmick is to do a full-on Ethiopian-Abyssinian buffet for dinner on fridays now. The food was sensational! And after a rough week the beers went down really nicely. It was also a good vibe because we had to get up early on Saturday to go to that &*£%$ wedding in Malahapye (2hrs away), and she had to get up early to work, so all 3 of us wanted to have an early night but also wanted to eat something amazing and have a few drinks. Which we did! Fred & Lilly joined us as well and it was just that perfect vibe of the right group of people with the right objectives for the right type of friday-night hangings-outings at the right time, etc etc. We sat out on the terrace and ate ourselves stupid and laughed and talked and ranted and sunk a few weekend pints and it was flippin' great. Exactly what I needed.
OK we missed our traditional friday-night sundowners at the pub (I'm sure our regular drink-bringer James didnt know what to do with himself without us) but this was even better.
And, P. and we organized what will end up being my first (FINALLY!) gig event here in BW. This semi-famous afro-fusion band called Freshly Ground is actually coming TO GABZ-CITY!!! At 100Pula per ticket, I can't imagine how and why they're managing to pull off 2 shows (That's a whole half-month income for some folks around here!) with an audience, but they're good and well-known, and f'in A! am I excited to finally get some live music back in my life. It'll be freakadelic.
Then Saturday was the wedding. We had to fetch T. at her place at (gag!) 8 a.m.!!! What with my obsession with "The Great Saturday Sleep-in" every weekend, this was way beyond my recipe for a good saturday. The wedding was bleeeeehhhhhhhhhhhh. I mean I'm so glad we were invited and so glad we went but the whole service was in Setswana (although upon spotting the half-dozen whiteypants in various parts of the audience, they did call up a translator which I thought was totally sweet) and the soundsystem was crap so we couldnt even hear the translator and the Batswana couldnt even here the preacher! DAMN those ceremonies are long. Started at 10am, finished at about 1. That is three long hours of sitting on a really terribly-crafted wooden bench with no backrest on it, struggling to hear a word, and being so far at the back that you cant even see the bride and groom. Again, I'm so glad we went, but on the fun-scale of 1 to 10 it would honestly boil down to about a 2.
Then the lunch... the way village weddings work here is that every man woman and dog can come to the wedding. Even if they dont know the bride and groom, if you know it's happening, you can come. Heck, weddings are a reason to live, out in the villages where there's nothing to do but sit around all day, work, sleep, and eat. They're the social events of the year and everyone goes. This yields about a good 500 people at the lunch. Most of 'em don't even go to the ceremony (because it's boring, duh) they just rock up to get fed. I can't imagine being a bride who has to cook enough food to feed a whole village AND the bride/groom's friends and family who may not even live there but drive up for the wedding anyway. It's friggin' expensive! No wonder T. says she and her honey "can't afford to get married yet".
Anyway we stood in the blazing sun for over an HOUR in the food queue, with people elbowing and pushing and shoving (they're all totally aware that the brides often underestimate the actual number of people who rock up on the day, and food sometimes runs out.) By the time we got our turns, the plates were gone and we got paper plates and plastic forks and about 80% starch(es), 15% meat, and only 5% veg/salad. Talk about carbohydrate coma on the 2-hr drive back home. We ate, a few prayers were said, we left. That was it. bleehhhhh. No booze, no dancing, nobody else we knew there except for T., and oh yeah, we were all 3 placed at what obviously happened to be "the old granny" table, where the elderly all got served and we were the only ones who had to physically get up and stand out in the line to wait for our food. I totally admire the Batswana way of life with the "respect for the elder" stuff, but man I would'a killed to be 90 years old on that day, which is pretty hard to comprehend considering I hit emotional rock bottom just for turning 31.
Luckily the whole early-morning wedding thing meant that we were home by dinner time at which stage we were just too blehhhhhhh to do anything decent, so couch/tv vegetation commenced. Then Sunday we built a fence for Reggie, and in the aftermath of what happened last week, got invited over to the OTHER neighbours for tea (the H's) and got briefed on all the expat gossip that you'd ever need to know and more. The H's are probably the most "established" expat family in the city (and strangely enough we happen to live right next door - "strange" in the fact that their architecturally amazing mansion totally juxtaposes our humble little pre-fab jobby) and the Mr. is really sweet, lovely, soft-spoken, bird-watcher, down-to-earth, nature-lover retired guy you'll ever meet while she is more the traditional white "madam": full of gossip, full of complaints and bitching/moaning and uber-concerned with all things material. In essence they're a bit of a mis-matched hoot. Just so long as you can get past the Mrs.'s incessant complaining, they're great for a bit of a laugh and a serious chin-wag. My dearly beloved told me after we left, that I "talked too much". But it's just impossible to not have a big verbal-diarrhea session with these folks, they're so chatty (I think they're bored with a bit of an empty-nest syndrome thing going on). Anything you want to know about ANYONE who's ANYONE in Gabs (including our psycho landlord), just ask the H's. Or rather, don't even bother to ask, just show up and you'll get the whole earful. For hours. But notwithstanding this, they're dog lovers as well... Nugget (Golden Retriever) and Cody (the mutt) are just precious. Oh, and her pottery studio is amazing. I'm *this close* to signing up for her beginners class. But money issues may prevent this just yet.
Watched "Lord Of War" last night with Nicholas Cage. I must say I really liked the movie, despite it making me so angry. There's lots of movies like that, I guess. It made me angry for Africa, angry for capitalism, angry for society in general, and just plain old pissed off. Oh, AND I hate Nicholas Cage, but this was bearable. Jared Leto was HOT hot hot, and Bridget Moynahan looked stun-NING!
Another win for Ferrari/Felipe but I'm really annoyed about this Lewis Hamilton nonsense so I'm not really having a very good season so far and I'm kinda un-motivated as a fan in this weird surreal post-Schumacher era. ugh.
Too busy with the old (damn pesky) job-thing to write these days, but things are happening right and left. And to prove it, while saving time and memories for posterity.... some photos!!!
Thanks to Beth- we have officially crossed the line into that catagory of those old fart types who do (~gasp~) PUZZLES.
The new light fitting over the table. It's 3 glass balls - one clear, one green, and one blue.
My unfortunate new addiction - the PS2. Bad, bad, bad. BAD!
(see how she's ignoring the baby? See?! See!!?)
This weekend we took a 4 hour, 21km (12 mi) walk from home (our hood's welcome sign pictured here) along the railway, up to the Gabz Dam, along the dam, through the bush, and back to the hood.
Result: 3 puppies & 2 humans tired as hell.
That damn dam!
Thanks to Beth- we have officially crossed the line into that catagory of those old fart types who do (~gasp~) PUZZLES.
The new light fitting over the table. It's 3 glass balls - one clear, one green, and one blue.
My unfortunate new addiction - the PS2. Bad, bad, bad. BAD!
(see how she's ignoring the baby? See?! See!!?)
This weekend we took a 4 hour, 21km (12 mi) walk from home (our hood's welcome sign pictured here) along the railway, up to the Gabz Dam, along the dam, through the bush, and back to the hood.
Result: 3 puppies & 2 humans tired as hell.
That damn dam!
Gimmicks from the Blogosphere: INTERVIEW
1 Comments Published by Oh Wayward One on 04 May 2007 at 5/04/2007 08:44:00 am.
:)
My answers for crazy sarah:
1. If you had to give up either the ability to hear or the ability to feel (touch, vibrations, we're talking about kinesthetic feel, not emotions,) which would you choose to lose and why?
Good arguments for both, but given the obsession I have with music and its ability to send me to happyland, even moreso than tactile sensations (sometimes), I would have to say I would choose hearing over touch.
2. How do you want folks to remember you after you are gone?
As a brave girl who didn't conform to the clichés of life and blazed a few new trails in her day rather than sticking to the same ol' same ol'. And being a genuinely nice person who was desperately in love with her husband til her dying day would be nice too.
3. What year(s) do you think of when you think of "the good ol' days?" and why?
I have at least 3 separate sets of "the good ol' days": High School; My 2nd Senior year at University of Wyoming (1998-99); and my 1st year living in South Africa (2000) during my Masters.
But if I have to whittle it down to chose only one of the above, I would have to say High School (1990-1994) because that's 4 whole years' worth of "days" and that sounds a bit less "singular" than just "the good ol' year"
4. Toilet paper - over or under?
Only in the case of a hostage event that someone held a knife to my own throat, my husband's, or my dogs', would I truly be able to commit- because really I don't try to achieve one particular toilet-roll-technique or another. When that scenario would arise, however, I'd have to go with "over". Because it falls more gracefully into your hands when you pull it (???)
5. What do you feel every 31 year old woman should know how to do well?
Embody the essence of flexibility: Negotiation, compromise, and where necessary, letting go! I think the first 20 years of your life you have an excuse to be stubborn and pigheaded (because you're young and inexperienced in how the world really works), but by the time you're past 30 you better know how to "play well with others" and work through social problems using the old give and take combo. And on an additional note: being able to admit when you're wrong and apologize genuinely without using the word "but" in the apology.
The rules:
1. Leave me a comment saying, "Interview me."
2. I will respond by emailing you five questions. I get to pick the questions.
3. You will update your blog with the answers to the questions.
4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions
My answers for crazy sarah:
1. If you had to give up either the ability to hear or the ability to feel (touch, vibrations, we're talking about kinesthetic feel, not emotions,) which would you choose to lose and why?
Good arguments for both, but given the obsession I have with music and its ability to send me to happyland, even moreso than tactile sensations (sometimes), I would have to say I would choose hearing over touch.
2. How do you want folks to remember you after you are gone?
As a brave girl who didn't conform to the clichés of life and blazed a few new trails in her day rather than sticking to the same ol' same ol'. And being a genuinely nice person who was desperately in love with her husband til her dying day would be nice too.
3. What year(s) do you think of when you think of "the good ol' days?" and why?
I have at least 3 separate sets of "the good ol' days": High School; My 2nd Senior year at University of Wyoming (1998-99); and my 1st year living in South Africa (2000) during my Masters.
But if I have to whittle it down to chose only one of the above, I would have to say High School (1990-1994) because that's 4 whole years' worth of "days" and that sounds a bit less "singular" than just "the good ol' year"
4. Toilet paper - over or under?
Only in the case of a hostage event that someone held a knife to my own throat, my husband's, or my dogs', would I truly be able to commit- because really I don't try to achieve one particular toilet-roll-technique or another. When that scenario would arise, however, I'd have to go with "over". Because it falls more gracefully into your hands when you pull it (???)
5. What do you feel every 31 year old woman should know how to do well?
Embody the essence of flexibility: Negotiation, compromise, and where necessary, letting go! I think the first 20 years of your life you have an excuse to be stubborn and pigheaded (because you're young and inexperienced in how the world really works), but by the time you're past 30 you better know how to "play well with others" and work through social problems using the old give and take combo. And on an additional note: being able to admit when you're wrong and apologize genuinely without using the word "but" in the apology.
The rules:
1. Leave me a comment saying, "Interview me."
2. I will respond by emailing you five questions. I get to pick the questions.
3. You will update your blog with the answers to the questions.
4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions
blaaahhhhh
I hate being sick.
My first bout of the sickies since moving to botswana has arrived. Tuesday, our Labour Day/May Day off started out so wonderfully... sleeping late in the killer flannel sheets and winter duvet in the cold morning, leisurly coffee and rusks in front of the news, and a day of shopping for house stuff. All this followed up by one helluva nice chardonnay lunch spanning a 2 hour time slot in the late afternoon at the joint where we had my birthday dinner. We bumped into Megan and her Mr. there, which still kinda freaks me out when it happens because I still feel so "new" here, and bumping into people we actually know just seems so weird, given that I could wander the streets of Cork for a whole 4 years and still feel anonymous. Well, it helps when your skin colour allows you to stick out like a banana in my speedos.
So driving home it just happened, throat = totally swelled up, head = totally full of snot, nose = totally blocked off to anything remotely close to breathing.
I spent the rest of the random-day-off wallowing in pity on the couch, shivering and drinking tea and moaning and groaning. it was rotten.
Otherwise not much else to report. Well, other than Liverpool vs AC Milan for the 2nd time in 3 years now in the Champions' League final. I really have no feeling about either team, but it does make me feel a little bit emotional for AlanM's sake, I'm extremely happy for him (re: Liverpool making it) but I think the reason it is on my mind is because it almost gives me the feeling of a little "anniversary" of us being friends because when I first started at the old job, one of the major events during my first months there, was the Finals, and I remember this funny short guy who smoked too much, running around bragging about going to Turkey to watch his team take on the greasies. He wouldnt shut up about it for days. Little did I know we'd become really good friends and someday this guy would be coming to visit us in Botswana, not to mention keeping me supplied with the life-sustaining LOST episodes of season 3.
I'm worried a little bit about the Mr. , as I know that he's going through a patch of the worries at the moment regarding "the grand scheme of things". It's not unhappiness, it's just unsettledness. It's times like this that I'm glad I'm mildly retarded and that my brain boarders on lazy most of the time, so that I don't tend to get into such patches. He just doesn't know what to do about either (a) persuing another "real job" or (b) staying here with me in the office. He then worries about money, he worries about buying that 4x4, he worries about whether or not he should take up AutoCAD.
I just feel so bad for him because I see the look on his face and it's the look of someone who's confused and doesn't know which way to go. It's the old Dutch work-obsessiveness whereby if you're not completely flat out and stressed and challenged to the BILLIONTH degree, you don't feel like you're worthy. I try to explain to him that is NOT why we moved back to africa, and to relax because there is no reason to worry. And isn't he happy in general? "Yes, definitely! Absolutely!" But I notice it when we're driving home and rather than yammering on and on about the nonsense&rubbish that we always blah-blah on about, he's just quiet and it's like the left side of his face has gone transparent and I can see through it, into the cogs and wheels that are spinning around like a friggin hurricane.
It's all about perspective. 4 years ago we were so broke that I used to go to Lidl or Aldi with 5 euro in my wallet and didn't come home with anything that wasnt in a can. Now we own a house and a business and get to spend all day together and come home to the coolest place in the world. Why mentally manufacture unnecessary things to worry about? Everything works out, sometimes you just have to wait & be patient before you can figure out how it's gonna work out. But notwithstanding this, I'm not even sure what he needs to get "worked out" because as far as I can see, it's all good right now! I know he knows that, he just feels like he's floating a bit aimlessly in life and I do know how that feels. (That was me back in, oh... 1997, 1998, and 2002-2003). Luckily the life he feels like he's floating aimlessly in is pretty damn good for being a state of aimlessness, and he's very aware of that... these dutch boys though, they're just all obsessed with jobs and money and work. What can you do? Well, I worry about him, that's what I do. And he checks out more makes and models of 4x4s. And then it just kind of passes...
...and something happens... and then it's like nothing was ever worth worrying about. C'est la vie. My poor baby...
I hate being sick.
My first bout of the sickies since moving to botswana has arrived. Tuesday, our Labour Day/May Day off started out so wonderfully... sleeping late in the killer flannel sheets and winter duvet in the cold morning, leisurly coffee and rusks in front of the news, and a day of shopping for house stuff. All this followed up by one helluva nice chardonnay lunch spanning a 2 hour time slot in the late afternoon at the joint where we had my birthday dinner. We bumped into Megan and her Mr. there, which still kinda freaks me out when it happens because I still feel so "new" here, and bumping into people we actually know just seems so weird, given that I could wander the streets of Cork for a whole 4 years and still feel anonymous. Well, it helps when your skin colour allows you to stick out like a banana in my speedos.
So driving home it just happened, throat = totally swelled up, head = totally full of snot, nose = totally blocked off to anything remotely close to breathing.
I spent the rest of the random-day-off wallowing in pity on the couch, shivering and drinking tea and moaning and groaning. it was rotten.
Otherwise not much else to report. Well, other than Liverpool vs AC Milan for the 2nd time in 3 years now in the Champions' League final. I really have no feeling about either team, but it does make me feel a little bit emotional for AlanM's sake, I'm extremely happy for him (re: Liverpool making it) but I think the reason it is on my mind is because it almost gives me the feeling of a little "anniversary" of us being friends because when I first started at the old job, one of the major events during my first months there, was the Finals, and I remember this funny short guy who smoked too much, running around bragging about going to Turkey to watch his team take on the greasies. He wouldnt shut up about it for days. Little did I know we'd become really good friends and someday this guy would be coming to visit us in Botswana, not to mention keeping me supplied with the life-sustaining LOST episodes of season 3.
I'm worried a little bit about the Mr. , as I know that he's going through a patch of the worries at the moment regarding "the grand scheme of things". It's not unhappiness, it's just unsettledness. It's times like this that I'm glad I'm mildly retarded and that my brain boarders on lazy most of the time, so that I don't tend to get into such patches. He just doesn't know what to do about either (a) persuing another "real job" or (b) staying here with me in the office. He then worries about money, he worries about buying that 4x4, he worries about whether or not he should take up AutoCAD.
I just feel so bad for him because I see the look on his face and it's the look of someone who's confused and doesn't know which way to go. It's the old Dutch work-obsessiveness whereby if you're not completely flat out and stressed and challenged to the BILLIONTH degree, you don't feel like you're worthy. I try to explain to him that is NOT why we moved back to africa, and to relax because there is no reason to worry. And isn't he happy in general? "Yes, definitely! Absolutely!" But I notice it when we're driving home and rather than yammering on and on about the nonsense&rubbish that we always blah-blah on about, he's just quiet and it's like the left side of his face has gone transparent and I can see through it, into the cogs and wheels that are spinning around like a friggin hurricane.
It's all about perspective. 4 years ago we were so broke that I used to go to Lidl or Aldi with 5 euro in my wallet and didn't come home with anything that wasnt in a can. Now we own a house and a business and get to spend all day together and come home to the coolest place in the world. Why mentally manufacture unnecessary things to worry about? Everything works out, sometimes you just have to wait & be patient before you can figure out how it's gonna work out. But notwithstanding this, I'm not even sure what he needs to get "worked out" because as far as I can see, it's all good right now! I know he knows that, he just feels like he's floating a bit aimlessly in life and I do know how that feels. (That was me back in, oh... 1997, 1998, and 2002-2003). Luckily the life he feels like he's floating aimlessly in is pretty damn good for being a state of aimlessness, and he's very aware of that... these dutch boys though, they're just all obsessed with jobs and money and work. What can you do? Well, I worry about him, that's what I do. And he checks out more makes and models of 4x4s. And then it just kind of passes...
...and something happens... and then it's like nothing was ever worth worrying about. C'est la vie. My poor baby...
