My Year of Meaningful (2011)

So I had a dream that I uhhhh.... had a baby on October 5th.

The most highly irregular part of said dream was that the EXACT DATE (October 5th) played such a huge part in my dream. No idea why, but that was the main outstanding detail that was hovering in my brain when I woke up.

Oh yes, and the fact that I was wearing brown.

AND that the birth was totally 100% easy and painless. I think it only took 1 hour or so. In the dream it felt like it was just an everyday average thing to do... you know, just pop out a small human in an hour, and wear brown. That feels so bizarre to me because I have always, always associated childbirth with searing pain and turmoil and anxiety and... well, PAIN. In this dream I was totally cool with it.

That is so weird.

...Desperately seeking the key to that "October 5th" thing, though. hmmmm....

I get soooooooooo annoyed with myself when I hear myself complaining and whinging. I saw this thing on Oprah when I was flipping channels the other night about some minister in KC who's pushing for the advancement of "a complaint-free world" and I thought "hell yeah! you go, reverend!" Allllllllll the way back from SA this sunday I was going "wah wha wha, my life is so hard and stressful and blah blah blah" (why? I'm not sure. probably temporary depression and guilt or something) and now I think back and just want to slap myself. ugh. Seriously... I like, whined all the way back from Rustenburg. It was just depressing.

For the record, my life is NOT stressful. I live in frickin Botswana for %$*!s sake. Only intermittent issues at work are stressful. Sometimes some of my clients cause stress. Any stress I feel WITHIN the office is created by me and me alone (say, for example, when I surf the web for airfares all day and then fail to do my WORK). Sometimes I create stress for myself through self-inflicted-laziness. When I feel the need to complain about work, I need to remind myself that until the day comes that I'm actually overworked and being truly injusticed by it, that I'm being a big whinger and that's just quite frankly unbecoming to someone who made it through a Masters Degree, Mt Kilimanjaro, 5 years of marriage, and 18 years under the same roof as my mother. (queue music "I'm a Survivor" by Destiny's Child... haha! just kidding. that would just be wrong and cheesy.)

I get soooooooo annoyed when the Mr. creates all this madey-uppy stress (comes with being Dutch) and has a big pity party for himself, and then I go and do it too. Surely there's some really deep and meaningful quote out there that I should memorize that pretty much expresses something like:
"If you wanna go around making up stress, complaining, and whining about shit, then prepare to get your 'license to kick ass and be hard core' permanently suspended!"

So anyway in my effort to give myself a big lesson in SUCK IT UP, I'm thinking of signing up for a correspondence course. It would help the company and I wouldn't mind having a second Masters to my name. I'm just thinking about it though. It'd be a wee bit expensive (UK university = GB£ converted into Pula = yikes!) and probably hella boring AND I promised myself I'd never go back to uni EVER again when I was doing my last MSc, BUT I just might do it.

The Mr. is currently doing an online correspondence course and he seems to be getting on just fine. He is indeed quite the inspiration. He's also a much harder worker and much smarter than me. hmmm.

And finally, I have decided to officially write off my brother. I've been riding some weird wave of pretending like we even know/understand each other for about the last 3 years or something but the more I see OF him through photos and on silly internet venues like MySpace or Facebook or whatever, the more I know that even if we were living right next door to each other we'd never actually have anything in common and I would probably continually want to punch his lights out. In years past, even though we lived apart, I used to always think "oh but he's so YOUNG, who knows what he'll end up turning out like... perhaps we'll grow closer with age". But now I'm like: "hell man, dude is closing in on 30... that boy ain't changing." If anything now's the part of his life where he's growing more and more and more STAGNANT and un-flexible. Sad.

So anyway, if in the role of mother I have got a 67-yr-old South African lady, AND a 45-yr-old Zimbabwean woman... then what prevents me from having a couple 20-something year old Irish/Romanian/Dutch boys in the role of younger brother? I have lots of those, and they actually put some effort into our relationships. Plus I like them.

OK my final words in this very unsatisfactory, non sequitur blog are going to be:
If someone asked me what my worst habit was, or the thing that I hate about myself the most, it would be that
I AM PRONE TO LAZINESS.
And then that would be the fact that I WHINE A LOT ABOUT THINGS THAT COULD EASILY BE SOLVED BY *NOT BEING LAZY!!!*

word.

I take lots of inspiration from my dear friend the armed goddess of everything that rocks, A., but today I take a page from her book and it's called "The Story of my Husband, on his 30th Birthday". A completely and totally birthday-centric blog post in honor of the greatest guy in the world.

The Story of my Husband, on his 30th Birthday
by: Me

On this day 30 years ago, in 1977, at approximately 8:30 in the morning, The Mr. was born.

He came into the world in his parents' bed, in the bedroom of their farmhouse in the province of Friesland, The Netherlands. The same bedroom was also the birth scene of his father, over 20 years earlier, and also of his many brothers and sisters to come. Born the first child of young dairy farmers, he was named after his mentally-challenged uncle (who would never have children and thus not carry on the family name), but many family members prefer to say it's after his Great Grandfather who also had that name. No middle name was given to him, although it is notable that subsequent children born to his parents did get middle names.

The eldest child of 6, The Mr. showed very early signs of great intelligence, independence, reliability, honesty, and diligence which would stay with him throughout his life. These were all qualities that made him adored by everyone he would meet throughout his adolescence and adulthood. If anything can be said about him, it's that he is full of all the good traits that anyone would eventually look for in a husband. His first language was Frisian, as is spoken in the homes of the residents of Friesland. It is a difficult, ancient language that dates back to the Kingdom of Fryslan which was an independent nation encompassing the lands which are now part of eastern Germany, Denmark, and northern Holland. It has many features of the Scandinavian languages, and some likenesses to dutch and even early english. Around the age of 5 or 6, he was sent to Dutch school and eventually became fluent in that language as well.

Early in his childhood it became apparent that The Mr. was deeply enamoured with tractors. Tractors became the focus of everything in his world. His father would take him for rides around the farm fields on tractors, and this was his favourite pastime. His favorite toy was a tractor. Teachers at his school complained that his artistic ability was being hampered by the fact that he refused to draw or colour anything other than tractors. Even his creative writing assignments were becoming redundant and repetitive, given that there's not a whole lot of material one can produce when it comes to the not-so-wide world of tractor-based story lines. It would therefore surprise no one when 17 years later, he decided to attend Wageningen University to study a Master's Degree in Agricultural Engineering.

As a little boy, The Mr. was very blonde. This surprised a number of people given the fact that no one in his family was blonde. Now he has brown hair, and green eyes. Other special features that draw attention to him physically, are his lovely tall, slim build (6'3", 79kg), nice legs, and a piercing in the upper rim of his left ear. This same piercing is shared with his wife (me) as well as the green eyes.

Growing up in a family who "didn't believe in sports" proved difficult for The Mr. He was an athletic child who excelled in tennis and cycling, and had a love of soccer. However, with 6 children in the family, and a full-time commitment to the 2nd-biggest dairy farm in Friesland, the parents explained to him at an early stage that they would not be able to mess around with transporting him to local sporting clubs and/or school athletic events. Eventually he would come to verbal blows and several tense situations with his parents by insisting that he would see himself through his own tennis career (he cycled or got lifts to all practices and events) as they refused to support him in his sport of choice, mainly due to the fact that there were games and training sessions on Sundays. Due to their religious convictions, this would not be acceptable in the house. He took his verbal lashings on the chin and became a Provincially-Ranked tennis player with many honors and accolades to his name. To this day his parents have never watched him play a match.

The Mr. also chose to cycle the 60-km (36 mile) round trip to school every day. His parents offered him money for bus fare but he had a tendency to get sick on buses and opted to cycle every day instead, rain or shine. His friend GB made this long journey with him every day and the two ended up being rated highest in their school for fitness, every year during the school-wide physical education fitness tests. Interestingly enough, he would be the only child of the household who would ever ride a bicycle to school. The others opted for the 1-hour-each-way bus journey funded by their parents.

Not in any way to be considered "just a sporty jock", at school The Mr. excelled in Physics, Chemistry, Mathematics, and German. There is a story about how he not only performed at the highest level of any student in the school at physics, but also how he scored the highest ever (100%) on an important practical exam in chemistry, plus accumulated bonus points to technically score over 100%. He was the only student at his school to have ever accomplished that feat. However, his performance in English was notably poor, and to this day his handwriting still leaves something to be desired.

Major events of note in the Mr.'s early years included the time when he was in his mid-teens and got extremely drunk and rode his bicycle off the road, crashing into a ditch and smashing out all of his front teeth. The substantial dental re-construction that ensued cost several thousand Euros and the procedure necessitated having temporary teeth spacers placed inside his head that made him look like a very unfortunate rabbit for several months, during his prime girl-chasing years in high school. This, combined with the fact that his parents insisted he would pay for every cent of damage done, provided him with a couple of life lessons in humility and consequence, which can likely be considered some of the catalysts that created the good-natured and responsible person that he is today.

When the Mr. was 17 and began considering what he would do for the rest of his life, he started showing early signs of wanderlust. He would read the want ads in the local papers and pay special attention to those jobs that offered possibilities of overseas travel, particularly to Asia and developing countries around the globe. Unfortunately, with 5 other children running around the house and constantly breaking things and soaking up all the attention that 2 parents could possibly provide, no one seemed to notice or listen when he spoke of these things. At that same time, he opted to move to Wageningen to commence university studies, and began to enjoy college life away from the farm. He excelled in physics and mathematics, and also got a minor in Management Studies.

During his Masters' studies, the Mr. opted to do a portion of his required practical experience at the University of Pretoria, South Africa. It is during this stage of his life that he met his future wife, and author of this blog. They met at an Irish pub in Hatfield Square, introduced by Roy, my friend and his roommate. This happened less than 5 days after his arrival in the country, in the end of October 2000. It was not love at first sight, but there was an undercurrent of chemistry that needed to be sorted out and go through a few different phases before it was recognized as "soul mateship".

At a halloween party hosted by mutual friends, several days later, The Mr. and his future wife spent the entire evening talking, ignoring everyone else around them, and drinking No-Name white wine out of a box. It was on this night that they realized there was something there, so to speak. That "something" materialized as that which can only be described in hindsight as a romantic walk home together, and subsequent shacking up. In the weeks that passed, they would spend a significant amount of time together, get matching piercings, laugh a lot, and drink copious amounts of beer.

In November 2000, approximately one month after meeting, the pair would embark upon a long journey through South Africa, Botswana, Zimbabwe and even a brief stint in Zambia where they nearly escaped being thrown into prison. Incidents of note on this journey included 2 near death experiences (one a piece), as well as surviving a stint of getting poisoned, the near-fatal rafting of the Zambezi river, and a twilight conversation on a log in the Okavango Delta in which the Mr. expressed his interest in moving to Australia (where she was soon headed). It was at this moment that they finally verbalized the desire to stay together and not break up when they would be parting ways from South Africa within the next 2 months.

On April 7, 2001, on a visit to said girlfriend in Melbourne Australia (where her new job had taken her), The Mr. produced a lovely south african diamond ring that he had conceptually designed all by himself, on a breakfast tray, that lovely, cloudy saturday morning. The previous night had included a rowdy night out with her friends, several pitchers of Sangria and a few bouts of dancing on top of a bar at a Spanish dive in the city, so the memory of what was actually served on that breakfast tray, aside from the ring, is a bit fuzzy. However, breakfast was eaten and the proposal was enthusiastically accepted. Plans for The Mr'.s impending move to Australia were made, and they officially began their life together as fiancees, by celebrating at a cafe/bar in Port Melbourne with friends and champagne.

On March 2, 2002 the two were married in a medium-sized, snowy, nighttime ceremony in Jefferson City Missouri. It was a lovely evening and they were surrounded by friends and family from a variety of different countries. A reception was held in a nearby hotel (Jeff City's most swanky), and their limo driver sported the world's most amazing mullet, ever. They enjoyed a honeymoon in Fiji en route back to their home in Melbourne, and lived happily in the suburb of Kew until August, with 2 adopted 5-year old beagles, Reggie and Jodie. The latter name was chosen by the Mr., in honor of the lady at work who apparently made "really good muffins".

August 2002 saw the couple (and beagles) move to Ireland, but they weren't quite sure where yet. Upon travelling around the country for awhile to find the most optimum place to set up camp indefinitely, they decided on Cork. Home of the late Rory Gallagher and the place in which they were destined to forge wonderful friendships, buy a house, fine-tune their careers, and drink a lot of gin and beer. To this day they own a humble 120 year old, 3-br terrace house on Thomas Davis Street, in the inner city area of Blackpool.

The rest of the story is relatively obvious and up-to-date. In 2005 The Mr. became 50% co-0wner of an environmental and landscape consultancy in Gaborone Botswana (his wife being the 2nd owner and shareholder). They live in the bush just outside of town, amongst the crocodiles, warthogs and baboons with their 3 dogs. Over time his english has become impeccable, notwithstanding a funny hybrid accent of American, Irish, and British nuances. Additionally, he has acquired new tastes over time, such as an appreciation for red wine, extremely spicy foods, and olives. Some things, however, never change. His favourite football team is still Herenveen, the pride of Friesland. He has learned to love rugby, although soccer will always run through his veins. He can also be found gazing intently across great expanses at tractors, identifying their makes, models, and years from an impressive distance.

All in all, it can be said that the 30 years between 1977 and 2007 have been blessed infinitely in time and space by the presence of The Mr., on this planet. On this, his 30th birthday, he will be remembered and thought of fondly by so many people as absolutely one of the most adorable and admirable people on earth.

before I'm gone with the wind...

Like Tuesday. I'm like Tuesday in the Lynard Skynard song "Tuesday's Gone" WOO HOO!

Tomorrow we wake up early and Alan, the Mr., and myself drive down to Joburg. Alan drops us off at the airport and takes the car off our hands til we get back. The Mr. and I wing our way off to Umhlanga beach (just outside Durban). I can't wait - first of all I'm gatvol of work at the moment, and I need to get recharged. All these weekends camping out in the bush or going to parties or whatever the past months are not exactly what I call recharging. You scramble to pack up all your gear, dash to the grocery store for all your provisions, drive like a bullet across miles of highway, scramble to get your tent up before dark, drive around all weekend trying to see stuff, and then race back to town in order to bathe and go to bed on sunday night. Whew!

We are staying with Ma and Pa P. at their timeshare on Cabana Beach from Wednesday-Friday. It's not exactly "our" typea' place (big tacky Miami-style high-rise) but it's their timeshare and that's where they are this week, so it's free (!) and there's a spare room and we'll have our own car so we can zip around and do whatever we please whenever the hectic pace of sitting on the beach and staring out to sea whilst drinking cocktails gets to be too much. All I know is that there's a Portuguese seafood restaurant there that has my name on it!!!!!

Then saturday we fly back to Joburg where Alan picks us up and we immediately hit Jéan's place for a night out on the town (goin' out BIG TIME! None of this Botswana-night-life farce!) for my baby's BIG 3-0!!! OK, actually it's Monday but since we'll be down in the big smoke, since we'll be with the 2 boys, since we DESERVE a break from the tired old routine up here in Gabz-city, since my sweetie is becoming an old man like me, why WOULDN'T we take advantage of our timing and go for it a few days early?!? Besides, take it from me, Monday birthdays SUCK.

Sunday it's back in the car and back up here, via Rustenburg for lunch at the last sushi outpost before Botswana. Sans Alan. Boo hoo! My days of having a makeshift brother around again are nearing their end. My hard-ass running trainer is abandoning me. Ah, he'll only be 3 hours away and I'm so proud of him for getting to start his new life in SA finally, but his presence will be dearly missed. Still ranking as best houseguest ever. Even after nearly 2 months! Maybe it's just the laid back lifestyle in botswana that makes everything so easy, or the air or the water or who knows what, but really we hardly even know he's there. All I notice is my continually shrinking ass. Right ON!

"The Mustache" has vetoed our landscape design. Finally we were summoned. The presentation was made. The decision was rendered. He doesn't like landscaping. He doesn't see the need for the official residence of the president to have the appearance of "status" or be landscaped for formal functions where attendees can range from heads of state to ambassadors to other world leaders. He wants concrete and rocks. Fine. Whatever. Quite frankly, I'm of the opinion that if there are people in your country who don't even have running water and lights, then the head of state shouldn't be running up a massive irrigation bill in a desert climate and contribute to urban sky glow with a bunch of flood lighting. But THAT WASN'T THE BRIEF WE WERE GIVEN!!! We were told, 3 years ago that the design breif was to design a "formal garden that reflects the status of the head of state, and provides an aesthetically pleasing environment in which to hold prestigious celebrations and events for international visitors and dignitaries". Ahem. Whatever. We've been told that THAT brief was for THAT president. As of next year, it's THIS guy. THIS guy wants 30,000 square metres of land to be landscaped for under a million Pula. End of story. Now we have to do it all over again, from scratch. New money of course. So what do I care?? Well, frankly I don't like workin' for the damn VP/next Prez. Too much pressure!!!!

Next paragraph - I want mexican food. I want to go eat real mexican food (not the easy do-it-yourself burritos and fajitas that I make at home). Baked enchiladas. mmmm. that's what I want. And you always want what you can't have.

Oh. and my first boyfriend (Jr. High era) found me on Friendster this week. I accepted his invitation to be friends. hee hee! The one my mother always wanted me to marry. The first date, the first kiss, the all american dream... straight A student, good looking, good family, grew up to be a Doctor, etc. THE ONE WE ALL THOUGHT WAS GAY after high school. It was just SILLY how much I was desperate to find out all about him and what he's been up to since over 10 years ago. The catch is that he doesn't have any photographs of himself, or any personal info posted up on his page. At All. Damn! Of course I'm curious now. All I know is that it says "interested in dating - Women" where you have to select what kind of connections you're interested in making. Ah HA! So we were all wrong!!!???

It's really hot. 38 degrees this saturday. Just got the pool back to it's summertime (clean) state so we all went swimmin'. Niiiiice.

Oh! And Petra is moving to my neighbourhood! Can't wait!!! My social life is coming to ME! haha!

Friday was great- the 3 of us took a 1-off star gazing course (held at the game reserve across from our neighbourhood) which was amazing. I now know like 700% southern hemisphere constillations than I did before. I can find the Line of the Zodiac and immediately identify Scorpio, Sagittarius, the Centaur, Lupus, Virgo, Libra, etc. It was so beautiful being out in the bush in the dark and having an expert teach you all this stuff. There was even a braai and drinks and then some traditional dancers put on a bit of a show for us. Loved it. Think the boys did too. Now we're hoping Alan can impress all the pretty girls down in SA with his astronomical knowledge! HAA! Took a walk this sunday in the scorching heat of mid-day looking for crocs down by the dam outside our neighbourhood. Smaaaaaaaart. Didn't see any. Nearly got heat stroke though.

Watching BUTT Loads of world cup rugby. South Africa looks good. I'm so glad. Woo hoo! Just fearing our inevitable match up against New Zealand, when it comes. Yikes!

ok that's all the paragraphs I can come up with. Roll on the early weekend! Man I love 2-day work weeks.

OK I'll admit my vocabulary is not as good as some. I'm not *really* sure if that's the proper grammatical usage of the word "nigh". But it's what I thought of when I was putting some stupid title in this thing.

As much as it's sad for us, the process of getting Sech into his Forever Home is just around the corner. While he won't go back to the kennels, and will instead stay with us during the process, it is finally time.

The Mr. and I have officially judged his mangled foot as "rehabilitated" and my chat with J. from the SPCA yesterday was officially the first verbal mention of the words "ready" and "get the ball rolling".

It is a bit sad, because we love him so much, but the upshot is that he only goes to the RIGHT home for him, and since I'm his foster ma, nobody but me (with the girls at SPCA of course) gets to judge that. And that's really the best reassurance, isn't it? Because the truth about foster homing is that a foster home isn't actually the "right" home for a dog, ever. It's just his transition between the wrong place and the best place, and I'm only there to provide that safe and secure bridge for him to cross over. Also, I'm filled with excitement and anticipation for our next wayward case that they send us, which is always fun.

So anyway, in honour of the big lovable doofus, here is the profile that I wrote for him that they're going to use for the upcoming "feature" on Sech, in the newsletter/website/paper. (Just in case it gets chopped or abridged in print, I just wanted to record it for posterity, because he's such a special guy.)

Sech is a big comedian full of personality who really just wants to be a mommy's boy. While his Boerboel breed is often associated with guard dogs, this giant boy is really far too friendly to be put in charge of security duties! Sech's favourite time of day is when he hears a car pull up in the driveway at which point he will come running, wiggling every inch of his massive body, to greet you with big kisses, a cheerful bark, and some unintelligible sounds that we can only describe as his unique "singing". His most lovable feature is his desire to always be near his owner or member of the family, regardless of whether or not they are inside, outside, reading a book, or even sitting in the bathtub! This dog is truly your shadow, and knowing your whereabouts are his first priority.

However, Sech appreciates his personal space and most likely due to an unfortunate incident in his past, he has some occasional trust issues with adult males. This is easily overcome, however, by simply respecting his body language signals, and treating him gently and tenderly. Sech came to the SPCA after being involved in a serious accident that left him with a severely injured leg, and facing a terribly long recovery. He has suffered great pain due to his accident and sometimes he is a bit nervous when having his hurt leg attended to, or being forcefully handled.

Overall, he is the world's most lovable, cuddly dog but sometimes his sheer size and brute strength slips his own mind. For this reason Sech may not be the ideal dog to have around small children, as his massive 45kg frame can nearly knock over an adult when he comes barreling in for one of his super-greetings. Additionally, when excited, Sech's grace gets tossed by the wayside and his full-body-wiggles and playful bouncing have been likened to a bull in a china shop!

This 3-yr-old boy is full of love and his creative way of expressing it will have you in stitches! There's nothing funnier than when he sits down at your feet, looks at you intently with his big yellow eyes, and begins to "chat" to you with a low "mrrufff. mruff." He really has a lot to say, and before long you'll be convinced that he's eloquently explaining life, the universe and everything. His voice is a big one, however, and commands the attention of everyone in the room!

Sech will likely always have a bit of a limp and a unique-looking back foot, but this does not stop him from enjoying life to the fullest, running, jumping and playing. If you are a patient large-dog lover with plenty of space, looking for a loyal friend with an imposing physical presence yet a heart of gold and personality by the bucket load, he would love to meet you.

Sech likes:
Lots of affection
Being around people
Being around other dogs
Toys to chew
Playing with humans
Indoors/outdoors
Walking/running off a lead
Food. LOTS of food.

Sech dislikes:
Being alone for long periods of time
Being closed in a small space
Walking on a lead

I'm so tired.

I hate those days when you wake up tired.

I don't have them so much since we moved here as my lifestyle is much less-stress and easy going, it seems I always wake up rested regardless of how many hours I got. But today I was just . . . bleh. Tired.

I think it's because I have mental issues at the moment. I have to re-jig my attitude or something... I definitely have to work on being nicer. The Mr. has been alerting me to my un-nice-ness lately, he's feeling underappreciated and un-loved, and there must be something to it because it's not like he just makes this crap up. And obviously I don't want to be mean (especially to him) because not only does he NOT deserve it, but I've been suspicious of myself becoming old and bitter and mean over the last few years. Old, fine. I know I've gotta get old- but bitter and mean? That's just bad news.

So I'm trying to figure out: "What's the damn story???" Why the bitch-ass meanness and negativity, yo?

I dunno, either way I sense a problem with my attitude. I am very susceptible to complacency and routine-inflicted boredom. Is it that already? No way. couldn't be. Not only am I pretty happy with where I am in this life right now, I find myself watching the World Cup rugby matches this week and going.... "Hmmm. Samoa. That'd probably be a nice place to live, wouldn't it??? Wonder how I could get a job in Samoa..."

Am I experiencing a suppressed feeling of violation by the whole 12-yr-old-breaks-into-house-and-steals-from-you thing?? I hadn't thought about this one til B. brought it up last week in an email and said she could imagine me feeling violated by it. Honestly I hadn't even considered it til then, because, well, ehhhhh... it WASN'T that big a deal, really! But the truth is I had purposefully not been thinking about it since it happened, and then when/if I *am* forced to think about it, I get all uncomfortable thinking about it. What a bunch of nonsense! I'm so annoyed that I even wrote that.

I'm also annoyed by the fact that I'm struggling to get into the physical condition that I want to be in? I'm in good shape right now but with summer weather and 40-degree-C heat coming on, I can see my dedication and persistence having the potential to wane. I want abs of steel but I hate doing the exercises. And that pisses me off with myself. I've recently achieved the whole running-up-the-mountain goal, and now every time we head off to run up it, I HATE IT! I'm sitting here at my desk DREADING IT RIGHT NOW. I complain about it and dread it with the dread of a thousand professional dreadders.

Alan says "It's ok if you don't like it. Just do something else then". See, that's the weird, freakish zen that lives in his Smarty-Pants Engineer-y head. I make a drama out of it, he makes a frickin haiku. AAGHHH!! (of course he's right. Makes me even MORE annoyed!!)

More annoyance: My parents have announced they are coming in July 2008 APPARENTLY. They're going to "swing by Gaborone on their way back from Malawi". What-EVER. This is just the most bizarre story I ever heard - Dad taking Mom on his annual church-work-trip to Malawi that she has vehemently refused to go on for the last 6 years or so that he's been doing it. Now all of a sudden she's fine to do it, and while they're at it, they'll just "pop over" for a few days. As if it's freakin Rhode Island and Connecticut. Note the obvious lack of even a direct flight between here and Lilongwe. So how's that gonna work exactly?

On the up-side,
it was a nice weekend. Friday night we went out on the lash at B&B (we may only have our perma-sober-chauffeur for 2 more weeks now! Gasp!) watching the rugby match and watching people and pervving at girls for our dear sprinter-boy. Saturday I was hungover enough to actually enjoy watching nearly all the rugby matches that were televised throughout the whole day. AND THEN we watched "Talladega Nights: the Ballad of Ricky Bobby" and I laughed and laughed and laughed till I cried. Oh how I do love Will Ferrell movies. I especially loved Sacha Baron Cohen as Jéan Girard. I love him because he's hot (number one), but I also love him (number 2) because the character was so damn funny. And as a Formula 1 fan, I always love a chance to laugh at the rednecks of that silly nascar malarkey.

Sunday was the worst F1 race of the season but we watched that AND THEN MORE RUGBY GAMES... so all in all with the exception of Friday night it was a pretty relaxed and chill weekend.

Oh yes and I planted beds of watermelon and eggplant, too.

My carrots and leeks and red onions are looking good but for some reason the peppers and chillies and coriander are all holding out on me. But it's still WAY early.

This is probably the most pathetic bunch of crap I ever wrote but I'm staring at the screen through half-closed eyes and I can't be arsed. Basically.

..... and we're STILL waiting to be OFFICIALLY SUMMONED by Lt. Gen. VP-man. Or as I like to call him, "The Big Mustache".

It could be any minute now, or maybe tomorrow? Maybe yesterday? Maybe while I'm sitting at the lunch table with chicken salad all over my face. Hmmm. I really hate being somebody's beeyatch. I hate it. And I gave the engineers some attitude about it yesterday too. Particularly because all this "Hurry up and wait" nonsense is TOTALLY UNPAID. Gah!

So our little (large) boy has flown the nest today - we dropped Alan off at the airport this morning where he caught a flight down to Jozi and is gonna hang at Ma & Pa P.'s until this weekend or so. The immigration people want him IN THE COUNTRY while his application is being processed. It could be a day, a couple days, a week, who knows. Either way he PLANS to rent a car and drive back up here this weekend, but won't be 100% sure until they tell him one way or another.

Last night we went to the track and did one of his "real" track workouts while The Mr. and Eric played tennis. I haven't run intervals since my old High School track days. I have to admit that while it hurts like a bitch, I can actually feel the "important" spots really getting their physical workout (i.e. thighs and ass). Nothing else works those areas like sprinting. Hence the killer arses that all male and female sprinters always have. A girl can dream, huh...

OK now for the bizarre story of the day.

Terry from the Block. Right, well. He still comes around all the time looking to hang out. Sometimes we hang out, sometimes we just have to send him packin' because we're busy. (A la the life of my parents back at our old house when my bro and I were kids and we constantly had Jon K. on our doorstep wanting to know if "Jet can come out?" Dinner time, 7am, bedtime, you name it... there was big, fat Jon K. from down the street, ringin' the damn doorbell). Anyway! Back to Terry from the Block. So we took he and his 15yo brother to the "BW Show"... the equivalent of the State Fair or whatever (or as Brandon would say "the Stut Far") back in Hooterville. I got my phone stolen when someone boldly reached into my cargo pants pocket and helped themself to it. Probably while we were in the sardine-packed mob in line to ride the Hully Gully. Didn't even know it happened til we got home that day. But that's a whole 'nother story. I have always hated having 2 cellphones anyway so really it's a blessing in disguise. Whatever. I'm STILL digressing. Back to Terry from the block (again!).

So when we came back from the Show, he said he had to hang out at our house b/c their parents wouldn't be home. We were a little bit annoyed because when the kids are around you have to watch them & quite frankly the 3 of us had a rotten time at the Show (it was pretty bad - except for the Hully Gully) and didn't feel like babysitting a 12 and a 15 y.o. Either way to make a long story short, The Mr. was uncomfortable that whole afternoon b/c he "got the feeling" that T from the B was casing the joint. He kept asking questions about the PlayStation and about the boxes that said "Lost" on them (our jigsaw boxes!!) under the coffee table, and he kept investigating things (like rooms we weren't sitting in, etc). I said "oh don't be such a fussy pants" (no of COURSE I didnt say that, but whatever) but I am always the one to give everyone the benefit of the doubt so I told him to relax. The weirdest thing, however, was that Sech was LOSING HIS MIND barking at T from the B. The WHOLE AFTERNOON. And I mean viciously, viciously barking. We'd never seen anything like it.

Anyway, the next day the boys were gone and I was at home alone working and all of a sudden Sech BOLTS out the back door barking his head off, losing his mind. Lo and behold there's T from the B coming up the driveway. I sent him packing again b/c I was busy. But I could feel that something was awry. Just a gut feeling.

Monday, the Mr. gets a phone call from T from the B. He wants to know if we're "going to be home at 7:00 tonight". The Mr. says "No" and asks "Why" and T from the B hangs up. Funny thing though, it wasn't his mom's cell number, which he normally calls from.

Monday night, 8pm after we're done playing tennis/running. I have 10 missed calls from Mary on my phone and a message "Call me! it's urgent!" I call her, and hear that while she was outside feeding the dogs around 6:30, she came back inside and found the kitchen door open, some things on the TV room floor that hadnt been there 5 minutes ago, the PlayStation missing, and the "Lost" puzzle box on the kitchen floor! I ask if she saw or heard anything, and she says that she found a large footprint on the driveway (I asked if she thought it was a child's and she said no), a stone by the kitchen door that wasnt there 5 mins ago, and she thinks she saw someone running away but it was through the trees so she didnt get a look at the person!

Well straight away the Mr. goes "It was Terry!" Of course me, always the benefit-of-the-doubter, goes "no way! He wouldnt have the balls!" The Mr. goes:

• He was casing the joint all weekend!
• Sech has always hated him!
• He always looks in our windows!
• He is OBSESSED with the Play Station!
• Just this weekend he asked me what the boxes are that say "Lost" on them!
• He called me to see if we'd be home at 7:00 tonight!
• He KNOWS what Mary's schedule is!
• He would HAVE to know where the PS was in order to grab it so fast - which he does!

I go:

• Come on, he's annoying but he isn't a thief!
• Mary said the footprint was "big"!
• Sech would've barked his head off if it was him!
• You know the neighbours across the road have had their houses burgled recently - I bet it's those same thieves.

(MAN I'm good!)

He goes:

• Sech was eating his dinner on the other side of the house! You know we could get bombed and he'd keep eating!
• Why would the REAL thieves that broke into Neighbours A and B last week AT 2 AM to steal MONEY, and BIG STUFF, come to our house in broad daylight and steal a PLAYSTATION??? And for that matter, be able to pull it off in less than 5 minutes???

True enough, true enough.

We get home and the Mr. jumps on the phone and rings T from the B's mom. He says something to the effect of "Good evening madam, my name is The Mr. and I live in Notwane. I would like to come and talk to you about T from the B, because I'm worried about him". She says "are you the gentleman who took him to the Show this wknd?" he says yes. She immediately passes the phone to The Dad. The Mr. repeats himself and he says "Oh yes, please do come. We'll meet you at the gate and I'll bring Terry". So me, he, and Mary zip up the road to the place where his dad works and they live out the back. There's mom, dad, and T. standing at the gate, holding hands, waiting for us. I notice Dad is young and good looking and Mom looks petrified, shy, and sweet. I let the Mr. do the talking. I'm still nervous about accusing someone about something that we aren't 100% sure he's done.... particularly being The Big White Presence and all.

The Mr: "Good evening sir, I just wanted to have a word with you about something we're concerned about, regarding Terry".

Dad: "Are you having problems with this boy? Because I'll tell you something: We're having a difficult time trusting him ourselves, these days."

The Mr: "Terry, something happened at our house this afternoon and we need to know if you had anything to do with it, and I hope you're going to be honest with me."

(Man! Does this sound like an after-school special or what???)

--Silence--

The Mr: "You rang me this afternoon wanting to know if I would be home around 7pm tonight."

Me (jumping in just for the fun of it): "YES! And interestingly enough, at 6:30 we had a bit of a STEALING issue at our house while we were gone..." (WOO HOO! NAILED THAT ONE!!!)

The Mr: "Terry, did you by any chance come to our place and take something that didn't belong to you?"

The Dad: "Show him the box, Terry"

(here's where we notice a rather familiar looking box sitting on the driveway... it's the box our frickin' coffee maker came in!!! Which had been in our bloody KITCHEN just that morning!! So we go over and open it up and lo and behold there is not only a PSII in there, but also my IPOD SPEAKERS and our DART BOARD... notably two of the very things he's been obsessing over every time he comes to our house!! Which we didnt even notice were gone! WOAH!!)

So anyway the boy has eyes the size of dinner plates, he obviously knows he's gonna get the shit kicked out of him tonight as soon as we leave. He drops to his knees and grabs our hands and apologizes at least 3 times as his dad jerks him up to his feet and drags him off into the staff quarters which would probably lead to the worst few hours of his life.

But before that, some soundbytes from the 3 or 4-minute conversation:

The Mr. "Terry, we're very disappointed in you. We've been taking you places and buying you ice cream and drinks and entertaining you and this is what you do to us?" (Me thinking "AGH! This is the sound of MY Husband, pulling out "Mom's Greatest Hits!!!")

Dad: "Terry HOW could you have done this!! This is NOT what we need in our family!! We are VISITORS in this country (they're from Zim) and we do NOT need this working against us!!!"

Dad (to us): "He told us that you guys gave him this stuff to borrow. I am really, really, so very sorry."

Dad (to us): "We have been having really big problems with this boy. Problems at school, problems everywhere. This boy has been making quite some trouble lately."

Terry (to us): "Mr. & Mrs., I want to say I am so sorry. I want you to forgive me. What I did was very wrong and I am so sorry."

Anyway, during this time, Mary is explaining to the Mom about how her daughter even saw T. walking up the road with a box in his hands but she wasn't sure what it was - and how last week while we were camping, T from the B and his brother were hanging around our house A LOT and she had to keep sending them away. I'd say the biggest thing that flabbergasted them the most was the fact he premeditated the whole thing and rang us from someone else's number that afternoon to see if we'd be around.

• Funny thing, kid thinking he could actually get away with using the whole "they gave it all to me to borrow" line.
• I wonder what role the brother had in it all, if any? The brother has much more of an innocent, genuine aura around him.
• I had a weird gut feeling this weekend when he was over. I know now that I was trying to suppress that gut feeling, idealistically, whereas the Mr. just comes right out with his, verbally.
• So that's what the random rock (that Mary noticed wasn't there 5 minutes ago) was all about, on the driveway... it was to throw at Sech if he came barrelling up to him barking his head off (in hindsight the Mr. recalls telling him this weekend that "you're only allowed to throw a rock at Sech if he ever attacks you")!
• I still don't hate T from the B. If anything, I see my brother in him. My brother was a bad, bad kid who would do similar very bad, bad things. But he grew into a good guy, somehow.
• I have a very good feeling about the Dad and Mom. They were really good, well-spoken, decent, concerned people. I think they just really have a problem kid on their hands and they can only do as good as folks like my own parents could do in that situation. Which is basically: Make your kid apologize, don't apologize for them, and punish the snot out of 'em when they f*ck up.

Lessons learned:

• He didn't swipe my cell phone. That was someone else. We called it and the bastards actually picked up and told the Mr. to "F*** off!!" and that was while the boys were in the car with us.
• Your gut is rarely wrong, which is why my mantra (that I should really put into practice) has always been "Follow your gut feeling, dammit, cuz it's nearly always right!!"
• Dogs are the most incredible Character-Barometers in the world. They don't act randomly and there's a reason that animals are known in other cultures to be able to read the "vibes" in the air. People should pay more attention to their dogs when they try to talk to you.