Funny Chameleon...

Please go and watch this! I actually snorted from laughing so hard.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3l94S1yDJEE&NR=1

How do you get rid of bitterness?

I was just thinking about how much time in my life I've spent at the city council building. It's quite strange actually, that no matter how many new faces i see when I visit my mom at work, I feel at home, a kind of nostalgia. Even though my mom is working in a completely different building than when I was young, it still smells the same, with the same furniture and it has the same atmosphere.
Council folk; they all have the same sense of humour, the same jovial outlook on life. And there's always that guy who whistles all the time!

My mom and dad have both worked at the council for most of my life and I suppose most of theirs.

When I was about 10, I would travel in to town with my dad during the school holidays (when it was his turn) and spend the whole day at work with him. I would pop down to the 10th floor every now and then to visit my mom and on my way back, I would pick up a cup of vending-machine-coffee. I would sit at the desk of my dad's office computer and draw on Windows Paint Shop and play Solitaire and try to figure out Minesweeper.

My dad thought that I was so clever, because I knew more about computers than he did. I could even change the desktop colours!
When I think of those times I think of my dad quite fondly, and there are many times like those.
But I can't help but remember the bad parts. Not that he was an abuser in any way or anything drastic like that, I mean, I've had a generally good life. But I just can't seem to get the bitter taste out of my mouth.
I know it's good to forgive AND forget, but I struggle with the latter.

All the missed birthdays; the reluctant asking for money for school fees, clothes and books; the awkward phase of him searching for a new wife; the constant breaking down of my love for my mom; all-that-drinking.
- it all adds up to one big fat lump of confusion for a 10 year old girl.

I forgot to call him on his birthday the other day (the 8th of November). I remembered the next day, but still didn't call.
I still haven't called.

Am I subconsciously punishing him for all the things he's done?
Or am I just as bad as he is?

It can drive you crazy...

Ok, so let's just get it out there, I got my first speeding fine.



I have been driving for 9 years now (minus the 2 and a half years spent in England).

I was quite excited when i heard that i had received my first fine, i was wondering when this day would come!


I'm not exactly happy that it happened, but somehow i feel like i belong now! to the group of people who get speeding fines!


I was doing 82 in a 60 zone. R300.00 later...

was it really worth it? :(


Anyway, it led me to think of the experience of getting my driver's licence.


I went all the way to the cosy little town of Picketberg to do my test. My driving instructor drove me there. I got into the car with the traffic cop, took my shoes off and got myself ready. I was extremely nervous.

The first thing the Afrikaans cop said to me was, "If you lift that skirt a little higher, you don't need to do the test." (READ in a hectic Afrikaans accent)

I didn't know what to say, I just smiled a nervous smile.


I did the test, and I think i cut the car out once, so I was absolutely sure that i had failed.

The thought of having come all this way and sitting next to a pervert for that wasted time devastated me.

I sat in the office while the cop marked my test.

I started to cry before he told me that I had passed.


I cried almost all the way home.


What a crappy experience. I mean, seriously I was wearing a 3 quarter skirt because i knew it would be hot. Does this guy really have such a sorry life that he has to ask for 'it' while doing driver's tests?

Scary!

In this wet weather, my lovely cats find it necessary to bring in the creatures that come out in the rain - FROGS.



They tend to bring them in the dead of night when everyone is fast asleep, and even the clocks are silent.

I don't know if anyone has ever heard the sound of a distressed frog, but it will give you shivers down your spine, even in broad daylight.

Last night, the distressed frog entered my dreams and turned them into nightmares.

Its the kind of sound that the Ring Wraith make in Lord of the Rings. You know, the really high pitched shrill. Like a banshee!



I have yet to capture this sound on video, but when i do, i will post it on my blog.

It is just a little difficult to bring myself to whip out my camera in the middle of the night after being woken by a nightmare of the screeching spirit of a little girl, who clawed my hand.



I still get shivers thinking about it...

The Giraffe Cake

This is the cake that one of my best friends and I made for Baby Giraffe's first birthday.

Thanks Jessica!

Supermarket irritants

People who find it necessary to pinch my baby's cheeks at the supermarket really need to get a clue.

And why do you want to pull his dummy out when clearly it is there to keep him calm and quiet while paying for my groceries.

The checkout ladies do it every time, without fail. and no matter how strongly his poor little lips are pursed around his sacred dummy, they still find it necessary to yank it out.


WHY????


And of course, I have to just stand by and smile sweetly, as I imagine all the leaking detergents and the poorly packaged fish that they have been handling for the entire day, all being smeared onto my baby's face.

I know that it can be washed off, but gross man!

So if you are reading this, and ever have the urge to touch a complete stranger's baby, please think again.

PS: This obviously doesn't apply to friends and family, so if you know me and my son, feel free to pinch away!

The Honeymoon Giraffe

There is this situation that I was reminded of again today, and everytime I think of it, I cry a little bit inside my heart.

My husband (we will give him the Ominous name of ‘The One’) and I have been married for 2 years on Tuesday. We were together for 2 months short of 9 years before we got married. There has always been this long running ‘thing’ that we have, where he will always try to buy me something to do with a giraffe for my birthday. (I’ve always had a fascination for those beautiful creatures.)
One year he got me a glycerine soap bar with a small plastic giraffe inside it. Another year it was a giraffe card, a giraffe teddy bear, a pair of giraffe pyjamas – so the list goes on.
On my hen night, we played this game where my bride’s maids asked me questions about my relationship with my husband-to-be that they had previously asked him, to see how well i knew him. If I got a question wrong, they made me sing a karaoke song. (Since you’ve been gone!)
Anyway, the question came up of, “What has ‘The One’ bought you every year for your birthday?”
Naturally I knew the answer. And so it became well known throughout our group of friends.It was always a topic of conversation over the wedding festivities.
Needless to say, the theme of our honeymoon-baby’s room and clothes when he was born was wild animals, with Mr Giraffe taking the key role.

So the bad situation comes in where we went on honeymoon first to Kwa Madwala Game Reserve, where we met Mr Giraffe in person.

"Hellooo!"

And then to Sun City.On our way back from Sun city to the airport, we stopped at a huge African Curio market, where we bought our very own honeymoon large wooden giraffe.

It was beautiful.

Handpicked from many. We were satisfied.This was the best looking giraffe there.
He would stand in our lounge forever, proud and tall, reminding us of how wonderful and romantic our honeymoon was.

We got to the airport and were told that we were not allowed to take our giraffe on as hand luggage. (Just for the off chance that someone might suffer ‘death-by-giraffe’, and that was of course the reason why we bought it.)
I still asked the check in lady, “Are you sure this will be safe, it is very special and has a very high sentimental value?”
- Famous Last Words...
Arriving back in Cape Town, after a fun but tiring adventure, we went to the baggage claim belt and waited.

...and waited...
...and waited...
NO GIRAFFE!
I FELT SICK.

We went to speak to the B.A. helpdesk, “we will phone you within 36 hours if we find it.”

Home we went, minus one giraffe.They phoned later. They had found a giraffe, smaller than ours and in a black wrapping.

But ours was in a clear bubble wrapping, DAMN IT!

Aaaaah, I will never forget that.I run it through my head often.
“I wish we had taken it on as hand luggage.”
“I wish they had just found it.”

I know that it’s just a wooden giraffe, just an inanimate object, just material goods.When we leave this earth one day, we won’t need it, we won’t be able to take it with to the other side.
But it’s like the photo shop losing 2 whole spools of film from your Welsh horse riding trip, except worse...

IT WAS OUR HONEYMOON GIRAFFE!!!