OK, time to emerge from the bummer that was last week and pick up the beat that goes on. And all that.
So it's very good to have The Mr. back from Zambia, I picked him up at the airport on Friday and we enjoyed a lovely evening of some sundowners and delicious traditional Italian food that I bought from the Italian deli before his return, candlelight, and lots of talking. The lots of talking part as well as the candlelight part was worthwhile and enabled by the fact that there was no power until about 9pm or thereabouts, but good for the romance and focus factor.
Saturday was the farmers market which is always a hoot because we go and drink espresso and eat cake and see just about everyone in the whole city that we know. This time I made a move toward my bluegrass destiny dream and chatted up the mandolin and fiddle player that are always there playing irish music (2 of the 3 I once played with when Jerm, may he RIP, was trying to seduce me into their Irish band). Some phone numbers were exchanged and while I am not over the moon about these 2, at least something was cast into the universe. I also talked to our wine club guy there who is also in the music biz and he gave me the number of a supposedly-musically-open-minded-zimbabwean guitar player who he said would be totally down with learning a new musical genre. I'll give it some thought.
Then saturday night we went over to Soo's for dinner since she's all alone since Mx is off in the UK for a couple weeks. I made a pesto pasta salad and a lemon strawberry trifle to bring along and it was semi-pleasant and the younglings got to play together, etc etc.
Sunday was the usual hash followed by drinking and braaiing and that was fun although it was my weekend to backpack the Kid and I notice that she in all of her 9kg is getting pretty heavy on my old back these days and I dread that soon we're going to have to come up with a new plan if both The Mr and I intend on keeping up our alternated run/walk schedule for maximum hash enjoyment. One of the couples that's in the hash these days is from South Carolina and we were talking about SC and I now have a temporary fleeting interest in it as a state for some reason. There's the magic combo of foothills/ocean that ranks high on my list of priorities for places to live as well as a decent college town which they say is quite culturally diverse and relatively progressive in nature even though it's a red state, which is another issue that rates high in importance for us, as does the slow pace and acceptable year-round-temperature averages for The Mr. Nothing inspiring yet, but interesting.
Anyhoo, last night was nice and relaxing and we watched a mega HIMYM marathon in bed with crackers and snacks and wine and that was a perfect way to end a good weekend.
Elsewhere on the radar, The Mr. is about to lose his mind in terms of working with the illustrious BW government. I find this incredibly fascinating because it's like he's only just NOW starting to get disgusted with the same shyte that has been making me disgusted and borderline-fed-up with my occupational life in this part of the world. Basically the whole time he was up in Zambia with this government steering committee for this massive project, he was surrounded by corruption and poor behaviour, not to mention ethical nightmares and the like. Essentially these government guys have been dragging the asses of 30-or-so senior public servants up to these meetings which cost thousands of bucks in lodging, food, transport, etc. under the premise that there are "issues to be discussed" related to the project, but this time The Mr. saw that the real story is that some of these guys have mistresses (or "small houses", as they're called in these parts) who they prefer to bonk as often as possible instead of their wives back home, as well as getting drunk on government money (written off as "food") and nice weekends in nice lodges with fluffy pillows and high thread-count sheets. And so on. But the bonking hookers on the clock and getting the government vehicle driver drunk on government per diems really opened The Mr.'s eyes and got him well and truly fed up. Especially since he, himself, would quite frankly prefer to be home and sleeping in his own damn house and eating his own damn food. But apparently he's the only one like that in this little guvment boys' club and therefore fighting an uphill battle trying to get this project sewed up and over and done with. Luckily he stood his ground this time and when the question was proposed "do we need to meet again to review this final document once more" he slammed his foot down and did a bunch of pounding on the table and made it perfectly clear that this sort of malarkey was no longer going to happen. He even came back with ideas of doing a bit of whistle-blowing and name-dropping within the Ministry (something I've been hollering about doing for over a year now and he just didn't get it), so he really must have been pissed off. I say go for it. He's worried about the potential fallout for our office. I don't give a crap. Let 'em try any of that shit with me. I dare ya.
And in still yet other developments, our semi-work, semi-outside-work friends the S's who I wrote about before having to deal with her onset of untreatable cancer, have been given about 200 more days for her to live. And they've done all that they can do at any hospital, so it is truly just a waiting game. And a physically painful one too. Unreal. From being 100% happy healthy and looking forward to retirement in about 6-7 years, to having less than 200 more days til you DIE and leave the love of your life behind, sitting in a pool of hard-earned money and occupational stress. And a cozy house in Cape Town that you'll never get to see/live in/enjoy because it was always "for the future". I just can't think of other words except for "greatest tragedy ever" and my heart just breaks for them. Once again, another lesson in "Life's Too Short to be a Workaholic" as well as "Don't Try and Plan Your Future When You Could Be Living Your Present", for me anyway. Not that I would ever be a workaholic. But still, everyone could use a bit of improvement in that department no matter who they are.
So it's very good to have The Mr. back from Zambia, I picked him up at the airport on Friday and we enjoyed a lovely evening of some sundowners and delicious traditional Italian food that I bought from the Italian deli before his return, candlelight, and lots of talking. The lots of talking part as well as the candlelight part was worthwhile and enabled by the fact that there was no power until about 9pm or thereabouts, but good for the romance and focus factor.
Saturday was the farmers market which is always a hoot because we go and drink espresso and eat cake and see just about everyone in the whole city that we know. This time I made a move toward my bluegrass destiny dream and chatted up the mandolin and fiddle player that are always there playing irish music (2 of the 3 I once played with when Jerm, may he RIP, was trying to seduce me into their Irish band). Some phone numbers were exchanged and while I am not over the moon about these 2, at least something was cast into the universe. I also talked to our wine club guy there who is also in the music biz and he gave me the number of a supposedly-musically-open-minded-zimbabwean guitar player who he said would be totally down with learning a new musical genre. I'll give it some thought.
Then saturday night we went over to Soo's for dinner since she's all alone since Mx is off in the UK for a couple weeks. I made a pesto pasta salad and a lemon strawberry trifle to bring along and it was semi-pleasant and the younglings got to play together, etc etc.
Sunday was the usual hash followed by drinking and braaiing and that was fun although it was my weekend to backpack the Kid and I notice that she in all of her 9kg is getting pretty heavy on my old back these days and I dread that soon we're going to have to come up with a new plan if both The Mr and I intend on keeping up our alternated run/walk schedule for maximum hash enjoyment. One of the couples that's in the hash these days is from South Carolina and we were talking about SC and I now have a temporary fleeting interest in it as a state for some reason. There's the magic combo of foothills/ocean that ranks high on my list of priorities for places to live as well as a decent college town which they say is quite culturally diverse and relatively progressive in nature even though it's a red state, which is another issue that rates high in importance for us, as does the slow pace and acceptable year-round-temperature averages for The Mr. Nothing inspiring yet, but interesting.
Anyhoo, last night was nice and relaxing and we watched a mega HIMYM marathon in bed with crackers and snacks and wine and that was a perfect way to end a good weekend.
Elsewhere on the radar, The Mr. is about to lose his mind in terms of working with the illustrious BW government. I find this incredibly fascinating because it's like he's only just NOW starting to get disgusted with the same shyte that has been making me disgusted and borderline-fed-up with my occupational life in this part of the world. Basically the whole time he was up in Zambia with this government steering committee for this massive project, he was surrounded by corruption and poor behaviour, not to mention ethical nightmares and the like. Essentially these government guys have been dragging the asses of 30-or-so senior public servants up to these meetings which cost thousands of bucks in lodging, food, transport, etc. under the premise that there are "issues to be discussed" related to the project, but this time The Mr. saw that the real story is that some of these guys have mistresses (or "small houses", as they're called in these parts) who they prefer to bonk as often as possible instead of their wives back home, as well as getting drunk on government money (written off as "food") and nice weekends in nice lodges with fluffy pillows and high thread-count sheets. And so on. But the bonking hookers on the clock and getting the government vehicle driver drunk on government per diems really opened The Mr.'s eyes and got him well and truly fed up. Especially since he, himself, would quite frankly prefer to be home and sleeping in his own damn house and eating his own damn food. But apparently he's the only one like that in this little guvment boys' club and therefore fighting an uphill battle trying to get this project sewed up and over and done with. Luckily he stood his ground this time and when the question was proposed "do we need to meet again to review this final document once more" he slammed his foot down and did a bunch of pounding on the table and made it perfectly clear that this sort of malarkey was no longer going to happen. He even came back with ideas of doing a bit of whistle-blowing and name-dropping within the Ministry (something I've been hollering about doing for over a year now and he just didn't get it), so he really must have been pissed off. I say go for it. He's worried about the potential fallout for our office. I don't give a crap. Let 'em try any of that shit with me. I dare ya.
And in still yet other developments, our semi-work, semi-outside-work friends the S's who I wrote about before having to deal with her onset of untreatable cancer, have been given about 200 more days for her to live. And they've done all that they can do at any hospital, so it is truly just a waiting game. And a physically painful one too. Unreal. From being 100% happy healthy and looking forward to retirement in about 6-7 years, to having less than 200 more days til you DIE and leave the love of your life behind, sitting in a pool of hard-earned money and occupational stress. And a cozy house in Cape Town that you'll never get to see/live in/enjoy because it was always "for the future". I just can't think of other words except for "greatest tragedy ever" and my heart just breaks for them. Once again, another lesson in "Life's Too Short to be a Workaholic" as well as "Don't Try and Plan Your Future When You Could Be Living Your Present", for me anyway. Not that I would ever be a workaholic. But still, everyone could use a bit of improvement in that department no matter who they are.
Snacks and wine! My favorite!
Lesson learned: Work less, enjoy life and snacks and wine more often.
But be careful w/that whistle blowing, please. Remember, the Africans killed Dian Fossey.