This weekend

As I write this, the final game of the Wold Cup Soccer is on. I can hear from varying directions the sound of the Vuvuzela carrying through the cold night air. Netherlands vs Spain. Either way it will be the first time either of them have had a victory.

I have not watched one game to finality and I am blogging through the final. I must be terminally uncool. I have loved the vibe and the excitement and what it has done for our country- but I cannot, cannot bring myself to sit down through 90 minutes of this game. Watching men kick a ball one way and then the other and being lucky to even see one goal scored. That’s for the birds. My ration of patience in life doesn’t allow for me to enjoy watching 90 minutes of nothing coming to fruition.

Rugby now. There’s a different story. There is even the possibility that I might get to watch a punch up. I can't tell you why- but I enjoy those.

I have been reading the latest Cleo magazine. Apparently I am committing multiple blogger cardinal sins. I have learnt the following from Cleo:

1. A blog is not a diary. Unless you are famous, no one really gives a shit what you do on a day to day basis.
2. Keep blog posts short- 250 words max because scrolling is so like, 90’s.
3. Your interest factor with the boys goes up huge if you blog because it takes a certain discipline to blog that most girls just don’t have…Ahem. My inner feminist would very much like to teach the chauvinist runt that wrote this a thing or two about discipline.
4. Spell correctly and try to use big words as this impresses the boys… ditto on 3 above.

But anyway- this is what you get for reading a magazine that is aimed at 20 year olds and probably has a good share of the 10 year old demographic ( there’s my big word, in case you missed that…) If my mom saw it on my bedside table she would pick it up and say sniffily , “Who’s reading this crap?” Leaving me wondering about her powers of deduction as it is patently clear who the reader of the crap must be seeing as it is on my bedside table.

My mom- recently did this with the book “Graceling” and there I really have to agree with her. Girls should not write fight scenes. Ever. When you read about a vicious girl fighter who gets into fights and is “spinning” and “clipping” and “tapping”, you realise that the rest of the book is likely to be premium grade horse manure.

”It’s a book club book”, I say trying to disown my guilt. I don’t mention that I am the one that bought it for bookclub. I had trawled the websites in search of the top romance books (don't say anything) and it came up and sounded interesting and as everyone is all into the vampire thing right now with Eclipse etc, I thought that I could slip this bit of fantasy in without much ado. Fail….

So- big, unlady-like, gob-spraying raspberries to the chauvinist runt from Cleo magazine- here is the diary part of my blog (and I am sure I am way over my 250 word safety margin and there is much gnashing of teeth and torment as anyone reading this is forced to scroll if they want to get to the end of it. Sorry. You can take the girl out of the 90’s but you can’t take the 90’s out of the girl.

Up in arms? Christopher on the Gold Reef City train- not too keen on me snapping his pic. But a great morning was had by all. Cannot say that I would rush back to see the Winter Circus which was the reason that I had wanted to go as it ended today. But I did enjoy the trapeze artists.  

Then today, Tamzin, Erina and Danika came over for tea.  Microwave popcorn for kids is just the best.

I have not heard any Vuvezelas for some time so obviously no goals being scored.

On that note- time for me to retire to bed with my latest book, The Carrie Diaries. A real candy floss read but I am enjoying it immensely, although it does remind me how awful it was to be at school, how awful it was to have a crush on a boy who didn't even know that you existed, the awfulness of school bitches- it seems every school has one.

Last Sunday

So finally and in no particular order- here are some photos! I have found a way around the image insert gremlins by going through Windows Live Write or something like that! Yay! So, here are pictures of us all (Loren, Reece, Marcia, Matt, me and Christopher) watching Beautiful Creatures last Sunday.

Mommy Lesson no.9437: when going to the theatre- make sure that you have food and drink for your little ones. It really is irrelevant that you thought it would not be necessary because you had just treated them to a muffin the size of their head and a milkshake. They will still embarrass you by begging food off the nearest patron in range, providing a stellar performance making anyone believe that you have not fed them in days.

Luckily the nearest patron in this instance was Marcia who obviously has already learnt lesson no. 9437 and has provisions not only for her own child but other marauders which happen to include my little guy.

Rather embarrassing trying to ignore the little hand that stretches out throughout the show to the Provider of Food. I smile sweetly each time at Marcia as she hands over the extorted chip and wonder if she will be so happy to accept future invitations from me.

And pictures of the girls earlier on Sunday at The Secret Garden.

And finally one of Teacher Leanne's pics of Christopher for July. He looks too shnookums in the jersey his granny knitted for him.

I felt like a real louse today. Leaving a client meeting, a lady stopped to let me into the flow of traffic. No good deed goes unpunished. The guy behind her rode into the back of her. There was a loud horrible crunch and then a bystander howling out their horror. Hoowwwwwwwwwwww! Heeeeyyyyyyyyyyyy! OOOOOOOOOOOOOwww. Not someone you want on your team in a game of Hide and Seek.

I had an extended period of time of devil on one shoulder as I drove off- well it has nothing to do with me- that guy was not looking where he was driving. 3 minutes and one traffic light later- the Winged One wins and I do a u-turn and go back to give my details as a witness, praying that the lady won't shout at me about her poor car. Luckily she is either very gracious or does not recall that it was me that she had let in.

How often do we ignore that little voice though at our peril. It just does not cut you a break when you know you didn't do what you should have done and unlike other unpleasant company- you can't get away from it. It follows you to bed and curls up on your pillow right next to your ear, whispering, you should have...you really should have...

 So little Winged One, sweet dreams for both of us, tonight, please.

Funny. When I finally get the urge to blog- my pictures won't download. Very frustrating!

But that aside. I am a genius. I have managed to set up our new printer without reference to the manual and I am for the most part technically challenged. It only took me about an hour- but I did it.

Off to bed then to read my Marie Claire. I have been on DAP (Dodgy Auto-Pilot) all day. I hope that the Captain is back in tomorrow.

Pearls of wisdom????

Something has been playing through my mind. have you ever heard something from someone that sounded wise. But then you go away and dissect it and realise that it was unadulterated crap?

I recently tried out a new laser therapist as they were advertising a discount and I am an unashamed discount whore. She was Russian and I could barely understand a word that she was saying. I could not wait to get out of there as you kind of don't want to be treated like another piece of meet on the production line when you have your pants down so to speak. She almost made up for it afterwards when she told me next time around to come without make-up and she would show me this wonderful new machine and what it could do for my skin and started giving me make-up tips.

But then I queried the use of the laser around my eyes as I have been told by my usual therapist (thank goodness that she always takes me back!) that there is a nerve by your eyebrow so you don't want to be messing around in that area with a laser.

The Russian tells me that you should not always listen to all the naysayers. She basically makes no sense to me whatsoever here. Then she says that the reason for crime is that we all open our mouths and talk about it and that it would simply disappear if we stopped spreading it with our mouths.

She says when you see something sad or shocking- you just need to think to yourself that is that person's karma not mine (oh dear- just realised that I am discussing karma two blogs in a row- forgive me). You just need to say Thank you God that that is not me and move right along. Don't go home and spread the negative vibe by telling your husband all about the terrible car crash that you have just seen.

Apparently a wise woman once told her that her purpose in life was to spread a good vibe. Not to have children or anything stupid like that.

At first I thought that sounds fabulous. But the data processors start hacking into it. OK- great- so evil shit like child molestation will stop if we simply stop talking about it. Bull shit. I'm sure the paedo's would love that. Turn a blind eye.

Can you imagine how wonderfully preserving it would be of your own emotional capital if you could just think to yourself every time you see something awful, well sorry for you- your karma babe- suck it up princess. Where does this put humanitarian aid? Heroes who fight to better the lives of many. What kind of hardened, calloused beings does it turn us into? A bit like one of the religions I can think of where everyone just seems to accept their lot in life on the basis that it is their earned karma. Bullshit. And what karma do we earn for ourselves in our next life (whether that be human, insect, animal or immortal?)- if we do shut our eyes, our mouths, our hearts?

(Near) Instant Karma?

I sat on my patio, smoking (I have finally succumbed after a 3 year battle) and feeling content. Christopher (supposedly) asleep in his cot. A hot cup of tea. The birds chattering and flocking to pick up the pieces of cheese that Christopher and I had crumbled under the trees yesterday. A beautiful crested barbet. A shiny bird (a starling perhaps?). Sparrows and doves. There is something so innately satisfying about feeding wild things. The grass is brown and winter-fatigued. But still, sitting there, looking over the garden- I feel happy.

Earlier on I had taken Christopher to the Secret Garden. Met up with friends and saw a friend that I have not seen since varsity. (photos taking too long to include- will have to add them later). Karen heads back to Saudi on Thursday- so nice to catch up with her while she was here. Denise the same bubbly funny person I remember. Tanya going through the teething blues with Connor who is not even a month older than Karen's little one- Alex- both of them born this year Jan.

I am reluctant to leave- but know that I need to get Christopher home for his lunch time nap or I will have a misery on my hands later. He falls asleep in the car. These are times that I love. Carrying him out of the car as he leans against me, warm, sleepy and trusting and my heart swells. I put him to bed, fetch the things from my boot and sit on the patio with my tea (and my smoke).

Realise he has not had a sleep- but it is time for us to go out anyway. Meet Loren and Reece at Mugg and Bean. Have a Guaranteedtoexpandyourarseblueberry muffin (my favourite). Christopher gets creative with his chocolate milkshake which is spread over the table rather than in his cup.

Leave to go to the theatre to watch Beautiful Creatures. Marcia is running late with Matt so I wait for her. There is a mix up with the tickets so Loren goes ahead to get our seats. Marcia ( a swimming mom) rushes up, apologetic- she had found a boy who had lost his mommy and made sure he was safely returned. I hardly recognise her with make-up and her hair blowdryed straight. We are so used to seeing each other in our "raw" state- no make-up. Bed-head hair. No point in making an effort when you've got up at the crack of sparrow fart and are getting into the pool with your kids and you know there is going to be lots of splashing. I wonder what she thinks of me. I have turquoise eye-shadow on to match the jersey I had been wearing earlier. Before it was Christopied.

I have a short-fuse for queues. I don't do queues. Sarah had guaranteed that I just had to come to her office when my friend arrived and she would make sure that I got in. I am at the front of the queue and expect to be taken right away. Instead there are a never-ending stream of late comers that seem to take precedence, buying tickets from her while 2 fellow employees stand around gormlessly watching her.

So  I throw a strop. Is it not possible for one of these to take me. One of them takes me. Where are we going? Upstairs. But my sister-in-law is downstairs- she has saved me a seat and my friend is waiting at the entrance downstairs. Blank look. But Sarah told me to take you upstairs. But my friends are waiting downstairs. But now I don't know what to do because that is not what Sarah told me. You better go back to Sarah. A rabid STROP follows. She looks like a stunned mullet and tells me to just go in and beats a hasty retreat. I go to the lady at the door collecting tickets. I am ready for a fight. Throw another strop and tell her I am going in and if she has any problems with that then she better see Sarah.

Enjoy a lovely show for the most part. Christopher had not had a sleep so he gets all wired and whiny and is trying to hit the girl in the seat in front of us when he is not leopard crawling along the floor and using me as a human climbing frame.

Arrive at my car and put Christopher in his seat. Hand him Lucky (his faithful mechanised doggie)  whom he clutches to his chest. Go to boot to get my cellphone. Increasing panic as I realise it is not there. Spend the next hour retracing my steps. The restaurant manager phones it. Engaged. Later it just goes to voicemail. Sure sign that it has been stolen.

As I drive home I  think that there are worse things to lose and I am upset about it but calm. I think to myself- instant karma. Payback for the strops I threw back there. I believe in that kind of thing. The wheel turns. Mine spins wildly.

Come back and block the phone and the Sim card. Bastards. I hate it when this sort of thing happens. When you are reminded that the world is not full of well-intentioned people. You feel a kind of vulnerability. A vulnerability that you spend your life trying to distract yourself from. A security breach in the shiny bubble.

But all in all- still a good day. A day spent with friends always is. Tomorrow we will repair and polish the bubble. Enshellah (God-willing), as Karen would say.