Dead Bird in Bathtub

No, it is not some postmodern work of art, it is what happened to me this morning as I was enjoying my morning ministrations of hygiene and relaxation.

The door squeaks open, I beg silently that E will not request an immediate breakfast/glass of milk/ light to be switched on/dog to feed or any of the other million daily catastrophes in his little life. Instead - Momma look! Kali ate a bird, she is naughty. Weary eyes lift to the left, OMG! A very dead and chewed bird is held triumphantly a mere half inch from my left ear, sad grey feathers floating to my bath water. Kali sitting behind E, her whole body poised for action, keen brown eyes watching every move the dead body is making as it is slowly swung from side to side. Erm, why don’t you put that in the dustbin my boy. No, momma look here, bird pushed closer to my face and I can just see how the mangled body is gonna land in my water. Kali takes the opportunity to make a grab for the bird, a tuck of war ensues with E screaming and Kali trying to get as much of the body in her mouth as possible. My imagination is forecasting entrails on the floor and blood on the ceiling. We are late as it is. E wins out and disappears with the bird, puppy trailing.

Much much later I get to pick the now mangled and dry body up from the lawn to dispose of in the dustbin.

Who Said Men Cannot Multi Task?

Ever since Buzani does not work for us anymore, we have had to control the dirt ourselves. The proclivity with which dishes and clothes find their way into the laundry/basin never seize to amaze me. The battle was already lost, even before the first volley got fired.

The only good thing about all this is the Saturday morning view, as I clean the house and dh does the ironing…and catches the last bit of sun for this season.

It Is All Just Political Vomit!

ARggg I am the one that has always defended our here president, but honestly, he is getting on my nerves

His prejudiced comments on white racists as the harbingers of crime headlines and disillusionment in the country's 'success story' is getting too close to bile to swallow. Followed by his nonchalant remarks that unpatriotic citizens must just leave the shores whilst those of true value will take responsibility and work in unison to rebuild our country smacks of exclusion than I find hard to swallow. Combine that with a severe shortage of any skilled people across all colour bars, you get a society made up of top earning elitist people living in high techno secure suburbs, driving their imported, satelite tracked vehicles to cushy office jobs, gliding to a guarded stop at any intersection where they come face to face with the dregs....the gazillions of hawkers, beggers, pick pockets and smash and grab villans.

And instead of really adressing crime, he prefers to build a R9 million wall around his house, reminds everyone of the struggle to freedom and gets on the next flight out of the country.

My colleagues

My little office is getting more and more crowded. After months of struggeling to send faxes (dash to nearest post office) print (e-mail to the printing shop down the road) copy (what is that?) and don't even think about scanning. I can now do it all by the press of a button.

Did I say I love technology! I am already planning my next big convenience...an i-mate.

Forget the dishwasher, nice lounge set or entertainment centre.

Dangerous Doctors

When I told young master E that we are going to the doctor for his checkup his very insightfull reply was ' No mommy, we must not go to doctor, doctor is dangerous' I could not help but agree with this youthful wisdom.

When I shared this titbit with his very nice elderly Irish gentleman of a doctor (he has the Sean Connery purr and all in his speech), he was just ever so slightly offended. Or taken aback - I think he prides himself in that he is very childfocussed, so much so as to be almost rude to the parent. A sucker was offered as a peace treaty, always an effective bribe.

On a serious note though. All is fine, no permanent damage or scars of the physical or psychological kind, I dont think in any case. For future care, we have to encourage him to pull his foreskin back across the penis head, ever so gently and just clean the exposed area with water, no soap. To begin with we just kind of help him to get the idea, now he is very proud to show of his new skill to anyone that cares to see, or not! (ahm for clarity sake, you don't force anything, just kind of go as far as you can each time and I promise, all will be revealed in good time!)

Flower child

E came into my office early this morning with a 'Momma look, my peepee is eina.' On closer inspection, the genital in question could only be said to compare favourably with a cauliflower. Yikes!! I dont even want to consider how sore it must have been.

The doctor seemed to think that if it is not much better by Monday, he will have to be circumcised. Not something I really want to do. Apparently it is just a little bacterial infection and in theory should clear up if we diligently administer all prescribed medicine.

A Dinosaur in the Garden

I have it on good faith that a dinosaur named blue-ahsaurus lives in our garden. The story goes that he is rather large and turns into a rhinoceros the moment he comes into the house. From there on the story becomes really animated with lots of sound effects and stomping around the lounge. A giant pre historic predator on a course of destruction through our little home complete with roars, crashes and claws.

I have visions of a surreal Calvin and Hobbes comic book future

Kicking a ball

In all the time that E's been going to school he has LOVED it, so much that he would throw a tantrum when I wanted to take him home in the afternoons.

Until yesterday morning when he was adamant that he would rather stay home with the dogs than go to school. I managed to sweet-talk him into getting in the car, only to have very quiet little guy all the way to school. There he just wanted to be with mommy, so I told him to go play with his friends. Which is when the truth came out 'mommy, but I do not have any friends' See, Maina left a week ago, to move to Durban, and my little boy's heart is broken. Fortunately the principle is really sensitive and she organised for all the children to play together with a ball - E's favorite game.

So now he tells me everyday that he played with a list of children 'moma today I played with Sihle and Siyabonga and Mpho and Boo and we kicked a ball and we did this and that and he rattles the day off in half a second, with all the sentences interspersed with either question marks or exclamation marks and me nodding in confused agreement.

But next week is the last day that the principle will be there as they have sold the school and are emigrating. And E will be joining a new school shortly after that, which is much bigger and far more formal than his current little home from home.

Canto Gregorian

Is lulling my spikey nerve -endings. Cannot concentrate today, for no love or money. So am sitting at my desk pondering.

I want some social interaction, I want to ride my horse, I want to go on a dive holiday in Mocambique, I want to surf the net. I want to read my book.

Instead, I am trying my very best (not) to concentrate on getting this freaking reporting pack to my client. So I can tick it off my to-do-list and start with the next big job. Writing the second term report of another bigger client. So I can tick that off my to-do-list and start with the next, even bigger job. Analysing those 600 odd responses to my Customer Satisfaction Survey.

I think that is why I am depressed, it simply is just too much to do.

But I am looking forward to the visit from my bestest friend this weekend, and I am going with her on Monday to get our papers from the Canadian Embassy.

About Forgiveness

I have just received a large sum of money for a job I worked at night and day for more than two months. I used just about all of that money to pay the debt Phil incurred when he had that affair. In my head I have always referred to it as 'his fucking debt'. Cause that is what it was.

When I think back on those 18 months and the hell we went through during and after that, I can still feel the anger boiling up in me. Paying his debt for him has forced me to come face to face with my emotions, again. But I will not begrudge him, I will set him free from his financial burdens, and in the process we will all be freed from the past.

when a fart is called

a bum burp, you have to know there is a sensible preschooler in the house!

'General' Musings

Out of a political melting pot, suddenly there is arising an afrikaner identity. It is an educated one, it is young, it is forward thinking, it is non racist, but it is agitated. The fire that set the whole lot boiling is a song. By a young talented rocker, about a general in the Anglo- boerwar.

A symbol of a true leader, someone that cared, not only about his own people but also the opposition. Cared enough to protect a general that was taken as prisoner of war, not only did he make sure this guy got nursed back to health, he also lobbied for recognition of his bravery by the British government after the end of the war. A true hero and humanitarian.

Everyone is uncomfortable though, does this mean violence and the destabilisation of the country? Different opinions and debates are flying across the floor. Amidst all of this, kids are getting on their horses and protesting against changing their afrikaans school to a double medium school. Local towns are all getting a name change, Mbeki is claiming that crime is only a perception and our minister of health has a serious mysterious disease with everyone speculating on whether it is AIDS or not. Fortunately for her future life expectancy, AIDS does not exist, at least not in SA and if it did, all you had to do is eat beetroot and garlic. All the local municipalities are conducting household surveys, Broad based black economic empowerment is on the front page of most business magazines and teenage pregnancies are soaring. They also culled 23 000 elephants and everyone is upset about canned hunting.

And the chorus just calls for a leader to lead us.

Keeping your eye on the ball

I must say, it pays to work at something you believe in. Even if you cannot imagine that you could actually get there. Like climbing a mountain or walking across the Sahara.

We have done that over the previous year in our marriage. Walked across a desert. I think we have found a safe oasis, right now. I am not so naive as to believe that nothing will ever go awry again, but I am confident that we have learned we really want to be together. And that any future decisions will be made with the family unit as our first priority. From both of us.

We are planning a future together, with a house, a new baby and a possible cross continental move. We are leaving the past behind us.

I think I am more ready now to purchase that wedding band and renew our vows.

In my storeroom

there are two saddles, bridles, a feedbag filled with full fat soya, riding hat, gloves, crop and big safety box filled with blankets, various numnahs, saddle soaps and other horsey paraphenilia. It smells kinda musty, nothing like that clean erragrostis breath that used so sniff me so daintely. Investigating everything in my hands. Checking out the new leather gloves, worrying my pony tail.

I want to remember those big soft toffee brown eyes, the long lashes and gentle lips but I keep on seeing the wild adrenalin rush on his face. The deep throated moans as he was trying to get up. The relief as he was sedated.

I do not want to think what became of that body I so loved. My guess is he is feeding those lions I went to visit so innocently not too long ago. I know it is the circle of life and that he is gone and what does it matter how we treat that which is left behind?

Today as I was paying all my accounts, his name came up on my list of beneficiaries. His name is still everywhere, forming part of everything in my life. His face a beautiful picture in my lounge. The feeling of jumping him a memory in my muscles. I miss him more everyday.