If his man vegetables weren't attached, he'd lose those as well

If his man vegetables weren't attached, he'd lose those as well

14 April 2024

I am the proud “owner” of one kid who loses stuff. And a lot of it.

 

He doesn’t mean to do it. In fact he never does. However, he has alarmingly high “success” rate in doing just that.

 

Maybe it’s a skill? If it was a competitive sport, he’d be a gold medal winner. A leader in his field of expertise. A master of his craft.

 

What makes it such a wonderful “gift” is the unashamed reality, that’s it’s always unintentional. Pure happenstance if you like. An unexpected “surprise”. Every. Single. Time.

 

He has specialised in his field. Mainly focusing on items of a technological variety. And within that broad category he has done an extensive foray into cell phones in particular.

 

To date, he has “lost” eight of them. Yes, indeed eight. And I can list every single one. Can’t remember the exact order as I get a bit muddled up. But is sequence all that important?

 

Lost Phone 1 – Left behind in a bush after a long weekend away with a friend, to a destination about five hours away. Well, you see, they were all packed up and ready to go. The car was packed and the parents did a quick run-through of the house to ensure that nothing was left behind. So while the adults were doing dreary adult stuff, Cole and his friend played a game of soccer in the garden. Not wanting to damage his phone, or risk it falling out of his pocket, he put it in a bush in the garden, while they played. The parents once more emerged, rustled all of the kids into the car and off they set on the trip home. Sance Cole’s phone. We were lucky to get it back about a week later, as the friends knew of someone who was driving down from Knysna and who had said that they wouldn’t mind investigating the bush to see if they could find it and bring it along with them. Only took an hour and a half drive there and back for My Grantie to fetch it in Cape Town. Deep remorse, but the phone was safe. And it was retrieved. So all good. In fact we were hugely relieved.

 

Lost Phone 2 – Slept over at the same friend’s house. They were playing basketball in the driveway the following morning. The family was once again heading off on a holiday for a few days. Cole came home after the sleepover, only to realise that he’d left the phone outside in the driveway. Had to wait about 5 days until they were back again. Luckily they live on a kind of a small holding, have fencing and an electronic gate and brave dogs that guard the home in their absence. Deep remorse once again. But somehow the phone was not eaten by the dogs or trampled by their horse. So all good. It was a win. And we had hoped that the "punishment" of a few enforced days without his phone might encourage him to be more cautious in the future. What were we thinking?

 

Lost Phone 3 – Went to a party at the local cricket club for a friend’s birthday. The following morning at 6h00, we were both scouring the outside of the cricket club as well as the very large cricket fields and surrounds. Deep remorse. Have I said this before? Phone gone. Not all good.

 

Lost Phone 4 – Left behind in an Uber. Luckily had the Uber driver’s number. We both phoned him and sent him multiple messages and spoke to him. The phone was not in the car. It’s a mystery to this day. Phone gone. Deep remorse once more. Definitely not even maybe good at all.

 

Lost Phone 5 – Mugging outside a social bar when he was out one night. A couple of guys simply walked up to him, grabbed his phone and ran. He gave chase, but it was not good. Deep remorse, yada-yada-yada. Phone gone. Sigh.

 

Lost Phone 6 – Went jolling in Cape Town. Once again, mugged between clubs. Remorse, etc. Phone gone. Not again!

 

Lost Phone 7 -  Went to a fabulous New Year’s Eve party. At midnight the DJ urged everyone to take their phones out, put their torches on and wave it in the air. They bloody saw him coming. Phone snatched by an opportunist. Definitely remorse. Phone gone. Are we in a twilight zone?

 

Lost Phone 8 – Went with a friend to the beach. Had an awesome time. Asked some random strangers to keep an eye on their belongings when they went to swim. Need I say more? Remorse and anger from him about this one. He was livid. Phone gone. Yet again.

 

We’ve usually had an old phone lying around when he’s lost a phone. Nothing new. In fact, for obvious reasons, he hasn’t had a handset upgrade for a few years. It just seems a bit pointless. We’ve actually stopped doing handset upgrades for all of us. We rather just increase our data packages. So our stash of old phones have shrunk quite dramatically. Can’t imagine why…

 

And about two or three lost phones ago, we told him, that we really didn’t have anything much to offer him apart from a shrinking selection of old, outdated and screen-cracked hand-me-downs. He would have to buy his own handset. Now what really took us by surprise, was how scandalized and incensed he was by that. In fact, I am blessed with perfect recall of exactly what he said, “I can’t believe parents would expect their own child to buy their own phone”. Can you even hear yourself? On this occasion it suited him to be a child. Even though he was over eighteen. It tickled us pink. As is, he always has to pay for the reconnection fee himself and buy his own cell phone cover.

 

Losing 8 phones. It’s a skill. Don’t you agree?

 

However, he has not merely limited himself to technology. Clothes and shoes often suffer a similar fate. Bags and swimming towels too. School clothes were fair game. And as for camping gear and cooler boxes? Don’t even get My Grantie started. I learnt early on, while he was still in primary school, that it was essential and of critical importance that I never sent anything away with him on a camp that I wouldn’t mind never seeing again. That way, anything that ever came back from a camping trip or school sport’s tour was a wonderful bonus and surprise. Oh yay! Just look at this! We got the inflatable mattress back again. How lucky are we?

 

Then there was that one time, when he went on a sport’s tour to Oudtshoorn when he was still in Primary School. It was an annual and much anticipated event. Being chosen for one of the teams going on tour was an honour and everyone always looked forward to it. I can’t quite recall, but I think it was usually three or four nights away from home. And I remember My Grantie and I heading up to the school on the day that they were coming back from the tour. The road outside the school was crowded with touring buses as well as parents and kids with huge big smiles on their faces. So many stories to tell about their awesome matches and the fun they had on tour.

 

Our kid saw us and he was beaming from ear to ear and practically leapt from the bus. Bubbling over with excitement! Voice hoarse from screaming along the sport’s field, supporting his friends. Diving into a million stories before he was even off the bus. We walked around to the luggage compartment of the bus and got all of his goodies. Couldn’t help but notice that his hockey sport’s kit was conspicuously absent. We kept on hanging around until the very last bag had been unpacked. Still no hockey bag. It. Was. Gone.

 

Pray tell, why? Well, that’s because he didn’t remember to put it in with the rest of his luggage before he got onto the bus. In actual fact, he couldn’t quite recall seeing it again after his last match. Nope he didn’t take it back with him to their accommodation the previous day either. He thinks it was possibly lying somewhere next to the hockey field somewhere. At another school. About four and a half hours away. To give him some credit, he was surprised that he’d forgotten it and was deeply sorry.

 

To be fair, My Grantie was far more shocked than he should’ve been. We had been exposed to occurrences of this nature for a very long time already by that stage. I was accepting of the fate. We were bound to suffer some collateral damage.

 

My Grantie claimed loudly, that our boy’s promising hockey career was over. Hockey shoes are extremely expensive. As is a decent hockey stick. Not to mention the shin pads, sporting socks, sporting clothes and all of the other paraphernalia.

 

Alas, fear not. One of the coaches of the girls’ team had seen the clearly marked sport’s bag next to the field, saw the name of the kid on the bag and made the logical choice. Cause she also knew this kid. So she took the bag back with her to the overnight accommodation and popped it in the girls’ bus the following morning.

 

I have no words. Only my kid would be able to lose 8 phones, multiple items of clothing, camping gear, swimming towels and forget to bring his hockey bag containing all of his kit back from a sport’s tour.

 

Now that takes a remarkable amount of skill. I told you he was a master of his craft. A genius in fact!

 

I have no doubt that the future will be filled with similar “mishaps” of this nature. It’s par for the course. Everyone has different skills, strengths and weaknesses.

 

Anyway, in other news, he’s due for a cell phone upgrade of his latest contract soon. He's already been eagerly scouring to see what awesome-new-phone would be available to him. And I shudder at the thought. Wish me luck!

 

Jazz Cabbage and other funny phrases

 

Jazz Cabbage and other funny phrases

10 April 2024

You’ve absolutely gotta love a good quirky saying for average every day things. And even some not so every day things too. The slang code we use to describe stuff.

 

Now when it comes to certain illegal substances, I’ve heard multiple terms or phrases for Marijuana. I suspect we all have.

 

And most of them make me laugh. I mean why would you say Marijuana, Dagga or Dope, when you can rather say, “The Devil’s Lettuce” or “Jazz Cabbage”.

 

Not entirely sure why I find it so entertaining. Cause let’s keep it real here. I’m not a partaker of the good stuff. So how often do I ever talk about it or mention it in conversation? Hardly friggin ever. Yet, when I come across a boring description like Weed, I simply always pipe up with either “The Devil’s Lettuce” or “Jazz Cabbage”. How can I possibly resist? And then I usually giggle. True giveaway that I’m a novice. Don’t think serious Lettuce lovers find it all that funny after all. Jeez! You’d think they’d find it more amusing, especially if they’ve imbibed.

 

So how did I come across some of my favourite phrases? Well I was listening to the radio one day, and I think it was Wackhead Simpson and his wacky crew, who listed a whole bunch of synonyms for Weed. And I thought it was hilarious. Hence I try to use them often. You know, when I discuss weed and stuff. 😉

 

And then the other day, Grant and I were busy watching a series. Can’t quite recall which series it was, but the use of Cocaine was described and Grant and I both burst out laughing. Don’t get my wrong. I’m not into that kind of thing at all. Drugs destroy many, many lives. And addiction is a horrible affliction. So I’m not making light of either the drug, or the addiction people suffer from because of it. I think it’s a very slippery slope and it can get it’s clutches on you and take you down a horrible rabbit hole before you’ve even realised it. And I don’t wish that upon anyone I know. I truly wish that we lived in a world where drugs didn’t exist. Where their hold on people didn’t ruin so many lives and cause so much agony and destruction.

 

So my mirth is not directed at the problem that drugs cause. Or the drugs themselves. Maybe it’s more because of the irony of giving a horrible drug, such a funny and innocuous name. Making it seem harmless. Even fun. Which I know that it is not. And maybe therein lies the problem. Cause let’s face it, in the long run, I don’t think drugs are fun at all. It’s certainly no laughing matter.

 

But I suppose I have an unusual sense of humour and it tickled my funny bone. Most likely it’s probably a very common nickname. But it’s just that I’d never come across it before.

 

So pray tell, how was Cocaine described? Well it was called, “The Devil’s Dandruff”. And maybe that’s why it is so amusing to me. It’s a funny phrase. Seems so harmless. And is so at odds with the actual substance and what it causes.

 

So please hook me up, and share some of your funny descriptions or slang terms too.

 

 

 

Why I love to blog and write

 

Why I love to blog and write

1 April 2024

Soooooo, until I picked up my “pen” again on the 5^th of March, I hadn’t blogged for absolute yonks! Doesn’t mean I hadn’t thought about it though. Cause I had. Quite a lot actually. I had had many blogging ideas swirling around my head for ages. But life got busy. As it does. And I got distracted. As I do. Extremely frequently, in fact. Cause all it takes is for me to… Alas, I digress. See how easy it is?

 

My mom and aunt always encouraged me to start it up again. And I had a few loyal blog followers, who would mention it to me on occasion, but I thought they were just being polite. And sweet. People are naturally kind in my opinion.

 

And then, on the 5^th of March, the idea popped up in my mind again and I got such an instant rush of happy endorphins when I remembered how much joy and happiness blogging gave me. I had found it so fulfilling, entertaining (yes, I do actually find myself funny) and creative. And I thought, “No man! Enough already! Just bloody write something again for a change”. So, I’m probably rusty. And apart from lengthy WhatsApp messages to friends and family (they’re terribly long suffering, yet patient with my long messages – kind people, all of them), I hadn’t done “proper” writing for a veeeeeery long time. But it’s like riding a bicycle, right? Right? I mean surely, something will spark again. So here goes…

 

There once was a girl called Helene

Just kidding

Done that before

Still think it’s funny though

(Doesn’t rhyme at all – note to self, practice more)

 

For now, I’m absolutely loving it. And thoroughly enjoying it. But at the same time, there’s also a nice discipline to it. If you don’t make time for the things that feed your soul, you won’t find time to do just that. It’s also such a happy hobby. Cause that’s my focus when I write. I write about things that make me happy. My observations of the world around me. My take on things if you like. And it’s also a way to remember things with greater accuracy and more details in the future. Because I can jog my memory through a blog I had written.

 

Looking back at my blogs from the earlier years when I first started, I’m filled with gratitude for doing it. I somehow managed to permanently capture so many of the wonderful memories of my children’s childhood years in stories. Silly little things really. The every day. The average. The daily things. Odd things they’d say and do. Experiences we had.

 

Cause here’s where I’m at now. In the blink of an eye, they’ve all finished school. Dancing lessons, hockey practices, school orals, studying for exams, the daily packing of lunches, supporting my kids along the sport’s field, the endless stream of social dances and school gatherings they attended, basically just all of it. It’s gone. It’s over. Never to be repeated. And had I not recorded so many of those average daily activities, in words, they would’ve been lost. Yes, I’ve got the memories and so do they. But we have different perceptions of the same experiences. One forgets so easily. Life is fast paced. And you simply move onto the next thing. You get sucked into life and living it.

 

For now, I’m enjoying playing with words again. I do love them so. And I’ll continue to write as often as I can. Because truth be told, if I don’t, I’ll resort back to long, lengthy messages to friends and family again. And they need a break.

 

Maybe one of the purest pleasures of blogging, is that I selfishly do it for me. Because I enjoy it so much. I get lost in a thought and the words just tumble out. Never quite knowing where it’s going to go or when it’s going to end. It just falls into place. Unfolding as I’m doing it. Which is possibly part of the joy in blogging. Unfurling as I paint pictures with words.

 

And I genuinely forget that others read it to. Quite surprising really, as I do share every single blog on my social media. You’d think it would be expected, but somehow for me, it’s not. And thus I always find it surprising when someone comments on a post or a blog. Or when they say something to me in person. Maybe because the irony is, that though it is called social media, it’s not really all that social after all. And one becomes disconnected from the fact that there might be someone on the receiving end of what you’re putting out there.

 

So thanks to those (diligently my mom, Maggie and my aunt, Bettie) who read my blog, for doing so. For your kind comments and reactions. For your encouragement and support.

 

With fondest love,

 

Helene

 

 

 

 

I have a wonderful ability to ignore things I don't like

I have a wonderful ability to ignore things I don't like

21 March 2024

I have a wonderful ability to ignore things I don’t like. It’s truly magical. And maybe it’s my superpower? Hey, who needs invisibility or the ability to fly in any rate? Super physical strength? Can’t be bothered.

 

Now the things that I ignore have no importance in my life. Which I suppose is kind of obvious. Hence I am able to banish them from my thoughts. Mostly forever more.

 

Dust? Poppycock! There’s no such thing. Bad weather? What’s bad weather in any rate? Who decides when it’s bad. I’m very much a summer gal, but all weather is good. It’s supposed to fluctuate and change. How can you be super excited and look forward to spring when you haven’t just had the beauty of winter? Such a weird concept. Weeds in the garden. Baloney! It’s green stuff, grows on it’s own and it even makes oxygen. Major bonus in my books. Dreaded anticipation before a dentist’s visit? Don’t have it. Make no error, I don’t enjoy visiting the dentist in the slightest. Even though my dentist, Lelanie, is simply the loveliest person ever and we usually overrun my regular appointment by yacking away, with much laughter. And the social side of the visit is always awesome. I can just ignore the anticipated visit, by not thinking about it, until I’m sitting in the chair. And then I do myself a huge favour by taking my glasses off, so I can’t see the reflection of what she’s doing in her glasses or her beaming overhead light.

 

Loadshedding, though not great, is an opportunity for us in our home to listen to music. We chat. I love to read. I amble around in the garden. We just do other stuff. So yes, it does take a bit of forward planning when it comes to meals and things like that. But they’ve got this handy little app called Eskom Se Push. As we all know. It’s bloody brilliant!

 

I think it’s important to focus on what’s good. What makes you happy. What gives you joy. And I can confirm with unequivocable conviction that dust gives me no joy. And I have an ace up my sleeve. My miracle domestic goddess. My most beloved Monica. But hey, she’s a short gal like me. Don’t think she sees all that much dust either. And I’m all for it.

 

Maybe this superpower ability of mine is what always ensures that I’m upbeat and positive. Filled with gratitude at all times. It’s truly a gift and I am so incredibly grateful for it. See what I did there…

 

It’s slightly more difficult with taxes and bills. Tedious forms that need to be completed. Boring grown-up things. So I’m not entirely blind. I can adult up when I need to and deal with things of that manner. But it’s a very, very small price to pay. Depending on the particular bill, of course.

 

So here’s my suggestion. Don’t sweat the small stuff. Put it in a bubble and blow it away.

 

Life is way too short. And you only get one. So enjoy every precious moment. Make some mistakes. Make the really good ones more than once. But embrace the art of living. And see the beauty and magic all around you.

 

Dust is inconsequential after all. So is supposed bad weather. Not to mention weeds.

 

Unless you feel like partaking and you enjoy a certain particular strain of the devil’s lettuce. In which case, you do do. Enjoy some jazz cabbage and live it up!

 

 

Technology - it's got a definite odd element

 

Technology - it's got a definite odd element

10 March 2024

Technology. It’s been life changing. And it’s added so many wonderful elements and phenomenal benefits to our lives.

 

Where to start? Technology is just such a broad term. But I suppose it encapsulates any electronic device, designed to make our lives easier. Or at least that’s my take on it. And by easier, I mean quicker. It helps to speed up the whole instant gratification process even more. Cause who wants to wait for anything, right?

 

Personally, I’m a very big fan. To name but two examples - cell phones and the miracles of the internet. I mean when you think about it (and you’re not very bright, like me) it’s hard thing to wrap your head around. How come I can send a single message on our Lombard family WhatsApp group and get instant replies? And by simply saying messages, it can encapsulate pics, videos, voice notes and the like. It defies logic. Considering the size of the Lombard clan, it’s a relatively small group, with only 24 participants. Some of the younger cousins and great-grandchildren have declined to join. No stamina, the youth of today.

 

Anyway, I can send a message on the group, check and see the moment it’s been read by participants across the world. And within seconds, my cousin Gareth can send a response. All the way from Sydney. Or my cousin Maria from Edinburgh. Or my cousin Elaine for that matter, during break time in the staff room at a school in Kuilsrivier. My cousin Adam from… (you get the point). Seriously, think about it. How crazy is that?

 

My Dad would so have loved it. It was something that we could not even imagine back in 1999 when he went to the special farm. And back then we were already convinced we were living in the future. I mean, we had cell phones like bricks, that could be used for weight training by that side. Double benefits right there! Most families had a home desktop computer and the internet was already a thing. But not at current capabilities. I had not imagined things could get more advanced back then.

 

Now it’s all instant cell phone banking. Ordering groceries, take-aways, clothes and even more technology online, simply to have it delivered straight to your doorstep. Streaming anything you can even think about watching on a screen. It’s quicker to cook food. Everything is faster.

 

Hell yes! It’s great.

 

But it’s also confusing. And strange on a whole other level.

 

I recall getting a new microwave a few years ago, and vividly remember saying to My Grantie, “I like the new microwave’s ringtone”. Cause yes, it had a ringtone, when any function you selected was completed. The same can be said for our washing machine. Which leads to another confusing example of technology. When our washing machine (about two washing machines ago – they don’t last very long in our home) broke a few years ago, My Grantie Googled possible trouble shooting solutions. Eventually got “a washing machine man” to come and have a look at our washing machine. And he declared that our washing machine needed a new motherboard. Seriously? A motherboard? For a washing machine. That’s very odd. It’s not a computer. Though technically on one level, it is. Most peculiar.

 

But technology has also come at a cost. And a huge one at that. It’s created so many incredible job opportunities. But it’s also made so many previous professions defunct. Surplus to necessities.

 

Imagine telling a school going kid that they’d need to go to a public library to use a reference book in order to do research for a school project. So outdated. I’ve mentioned this to my kids and they just think it’s so archaic. Putting coins in a photo copier in order to make a paper copy of a reference book. Now you simply take a pic or scan the image on your phone. Couldn’t be easier. Not to mention quicker. But you don’t really need that function now, do you? Cause you simply Google. And it’s right there. At your fingertips. Madness.

 

Alas, here I am, sitting in my lounge. Writing a blog on my laptop, with my phone at my side. My Grantie is watching Feeding Phil via Netflix. I can smell the potatoes I’m roasting in the air fryer. And just now I might even reheat some of last night’s cooked carrots to add to today’s roast meal. Just fetched my boys from work, so they’re chilling out. Luke’s playing Playstation. And Cole’s listening to music on Spotify. All happening simultaneously.

 

Which means, not only are we currently living in the future, but if the past and the previous speed of progression, innovation and development are to be believed, we ain’t seen nothing yet.

 

Cannot wait for my first flying car. I’m thinking red will be a really cool colour. Would've been so handy when my kids were younger. The school run would've been a breeze. Or perhaps they would've gotten to school in my self driving car?

 

 

 

 

I think I'm back, but let's see

I think I'm back, but let's see

5 March 2024

So here’s where I’m at. Older than I was the last time I did this. Blegh! So what. Still don’t feel any older. Don’t really act older either. Amber occasionally asks me to grow up, but it sounds like a really boring endeavour. So I’ve decided against it.

 

My kids are all adults. Kinda! Basically, which means that I’ve got nobody left in school. Yeeeeehaaaaa! Which is actually a big up to me, cause it means that I made it through school, a total of 4 times, including my own lacklustre first attempt, back in the day. Though it does make me a bit sad. I’m one of those really odd people, who seriously enjoyed the school run thing. As well as the whole having kids at school thing. Odd, I know. But I always knew it was a season in my life and I’m partial to seasons and enjoying every phase of the parenting journey along the way. I was also extremely aware of the fact that while the days might seem long, that the years would be short. It really would be gone very quickly and then it would be over forever. Never to be recaptured again. Yes, as previously mentioned, I’m odd.

 

As for the school run, it meant chatting to the kids in the car. Captive audience and all that. They couldn’t escape. So, a fair amount of the time they had bloody earphones on. But mostly we took turns listening to each other’s music. And we talked. Sometimes about meaningless trivial things, like “What’s for supper?”. As well as figuring out the logistics of fetching which kid, where and at what time. But we also spoke about other stuff. Real stuff. Life stuff. Like, why you can’t feel it when somebody licks your elbow? Did tortoises have eyebrows? And why we really couldn’t attempt to finally enforce 3 day weekends every single week. Mondays were overrated after all. Important discussions like that.

 

I always got the very best and latest school gos, fresh, fresh, FRESH! Amber, without fail, delivered the juiciest and most detailed stories. My favourite. I also always got stories from Amber when she was still in high school and beyond, and I would be the lifting mom to and from parties and chills. The minute she’d get in the car, usually with a passle of other girls, I’d ask the burning question that’d been on my mind since the moment I knew she was going to a party, “So, who cried in the bathroom?”. Cause it’s a well known and I’m sure documented fact, nay phenomenon, that at any teenage girl gathering or party, some young girl (occasionally more than one) was always going to cry in the bathroom due to some idiotic boy either ignoring her, or paying too much attention to her, or for drinking too much, or for saying something highly inappropriate, or for not saying something highly appropriate, or for not commenting on her outfit, or new hairdo, or for his own ridiculous fashion or hair choices, etc. Absolutely endless opportunities. So this was definitely a highlight of late night lifting and well worth the effort of staying awake in order to fetch from parties. Yes, I volunteered for this exact reason. Hey, I’d take my pleasures where I could find them. Not that I encouraged or looked forward to some young girl having an agonising time, it was just a given thing, that it would happen. Promise I’m not cruel. It was more about the fact that Amber would so eloquently regale me with these stories and no doubt enlighten me with said idiot-boy’s stupid behaviour. Now, given the fact that I am also in possession of two boys, I’m sure mine also caused a fair amount of bathroom time. Boys! Girls, I tried my best. And I’m really, really sorry. They’re a foreign species at the best of times.

 

Cole’s stories usually involved his escapades and the reaction of others to them. Highly entertaining and I simply always laughed out loud. We all did. To this day, nothing has changed. Delighted that he’s still the same and I so enjoy his quirky, unusual and refreshing take on life as well as his fabulous social commentary on everything. Definitely unconventional, usually ridiculously apt and somehow spot on. It’s truly a gift. However I simply NEVER got a bloody thing from Luke. Not really much of a sharer that one. Still not. Secretly convinced he works for some or other government agency, enforcing him to practice the discreet sharing of minimal knowledge. I mean, he might actually want to share more. But who knows. He might have to kill me afterwards, so it’s a bit risky. Though to be fair, he would always entertain, by filling me in on the latest school fight or disrespectful student-to-teacher moments. Think he lived for those. Kinda weird that given that, he did a teaching stint in Thailand and absolutely loved it. However, come to think of it, corporal punishment is very much a thing in Thailand. Though foreign teachers could not administer violence themselves, I’m sure he was allowed to watch. 😉 Seriously though, he taught kindergarten kids. You know the age where little kids still love their teachers and are eager little sponges, excited about absorbing knowledge. And he completely and utterly thrived and embraced it with utter joy. Still makes me smile when I think about it.

 

Anyway, so here I am again. Writing, albeit rusty. So, I’m not going to commit to doing this daily, but I’ll definitely try for more frequently. How’s that? It’s a start, and I’m looking forward to it.

 

 

Hi there old friend, it's been a while...

Hi there old friend, it's been a while...
22 December 2018

Hi there old friend, it’s been a while.  And I have missed you dearly.  So much so!  You were my solace, my quiet space, my place to reflect and my non-judging companion.  Always listening, ever patient, indulgent of my efforts and celebrating my victories with me.  Rejoicing in my children, my family and the simple joy I get out of everyday seemingly small things.  Things that bring me great happiness and that give me that warm fuzzy feeling.  That fill my soul with gratitude, appreciation and love.  You enjoyed my quirky sense of humour and we had lots of fun together. 

Now I know I’ve been gone for a ridiculously long time.  And I don’t want to make promises I can’t keep.  Promises of seeing you every day.  Of hanging out together.  But I’d like to try to see more of you.  So here’s my request.  Please don’t sulk keyboard and PC.  Let’s take it slowly and rekindle our mutual joy in being together again.

Just lately, I’ve been asked by two different people from very different walks of life, with very different businesses, to write them a little blurb.  A year end newsletter for parents and a Maths website intro.  Firstly, I LOVED it!  It was so satisfying and rewarding.  And secondly, I was so humbled by their love and appreciation for the trail of words I’d strung together.  Overflowing gratitude for such an easy enjoyable task.  So it made me think, and it made me miss, and it made me long.

I’ve always forgotten that there’s an audience out there when I write.  Because in my mind, it’s just me.  My keyboard.  Spell check.  And my PC.  And I’m always quite taken aback when I realise that others might read what I’ve written.  Like it’s a huge surprise.  Which is silly, yet true.  Cause when it’s just me, my keyboard, spell check and my PC, I don’t really write for an audience.  Sorry, but it’s true.  I’m having a conversation.  Albeit mostly with me.

So here’s by checkered writing past.  I did my beloved blog for a few years.  I’ve always done speeches for special celebrations like weddings, birthdays, anniversaries and just of late, I’ve done two funerals.  Not because I particularly love public speaking (who does), but because I love words.  And I enjoy playing with them and making them beautiful.  However I also did a weekly wine newsletter for a small boutique wine business for a few years.  Which was rather odd, as I know nothing about wine.  As in nothing.  I don’t even really drink wine.  But the owner would give me a few wine specials and then I’d have carte blanche to do with it what I’d want.  And boy did I have fun.  At the start of each newsletter I’d have to use Google first.  Sauvignon Blanc is a white wine, right?  I think Merlot is red.  Alas, I had a ball.

So why not have fun again?  As is, I have a few half-baked blogs, simply waiting.  Perhaps it’s finally time to dust them down and finish them off.  My mom always tells of people on her travels, enquiring about the blog.  Expressing their love of it, and their sadness that it had stopped.  Which is endearing and terribly sweet.  What? I had a following? Who knew?

Anyway, so perhaps it’s time to have some fun again.

(Please bear with me in my very clumsy efforts, as I've kinda forgotten how to even upload a blogpost)

http://cloetecapers.blogspot.com/

So here's the story

So here's the story
19 October 2014

I’m gainfully employed again.  For a boss.  After many, many years, of working for myself.

Though to be fair, I’m still working for myself too.  And if truth be told, I’m currently juggling bosses quite a bit.  There’s more than one of them.  Or even two of them.  I’m a bit of a boss slut.  Sad, but true.

So this is the deal.  Firstly, I rent out Jumping Castles.  This entails work, mainly over weekends, with a rather large lot of admin thrown into the week for good measure.  Also supervision of cleaning crew, fielding customers’ phone calls, emailing of quotes, etc.  Then, I drive the odd kid around in the afternoon after school.  Not just my three.  I craft rather extensively for a friend, who pays me an hourly rate for certain work, and a per-item rate, for other work.  It all depends on the type of thing being crafted and made.  Then, thanks to the blog, I’ve been approached by two people, to write newsletters for them.  Now this I find kinda funny.  I write about stuff I know nothing about.  No experience of the products.  No knowledge of the industry I’m writing for.  Yet, I’m receiving fan mail and compliments.  This gets forwarded on to me, as no one knows that I’m the writer of these letters.  Very funny. 

And lastly, I’ve just become someone’s PA.  This is currently taking up the bulk of my time.  I didn’t think I was qualified to be a PA.  Well, actually, if I’m 100% honest, I didn’t really know what being a PA meant.  Or what PA’s did.  Nor did I think I had the necessary skills needed.  Still, I interviewed for the job, and I was chosen, over a few other applicants.  Much to my surprise.

Initially I absolutely dreaded it.  Before even starting.  The thought of it, made me break out in a sweat.  I didn’t want to be tied down.  Answerable to anyone else.  Responsible for more than I already am.  Stretched too fine with my time.  Over-extended.

But actually, it’s working out pretty peachy.  And here’s why – firstly, I work from home.  What’s not to love?  I can quite literally work if I’m starkers.  Or haven’t washed my hair (this will NEVER happen – I have dirty hair phobia as well as no-eyeliner phobia).  And though I roughly have to put in six hours a day, this time is flexible.  I can work in the afternoons or at night.  Early morning too.  I can even dip into it over weekends.  Work might fluctuate.  With some days demanding more time.  And others demanding less.  I mean how perfect is that?  The work changes all of the time.  Nothing is repetitive.  I do the odd bit of driving around.  And so I’m not stuck behind a desk, even though it’s my own.

And now, four weeks in, I’m discovering that I’m perfectly qualified to be a PA.  It’s mostly stuff I’ve been doing already.  For myself and my family.  At no bloody charge!

But here’s the big difference.  Lots of the stuff, is the annoying nitty-gritty that one never feels like doing.  That you end up putting off.  Procrastinate in doing.  Move over for the next day.

However, in doing it for someone else, at a fee for my time, I’ve simply got no problem.  I’m not emotionally invested in anything.  I simply do it.  No hardship attached.  Like Nike, I just do it.

I make a call.  I swipe a card.  I stand in a queue.  I see someone in person.  I do shopping.  I pay a bill.  I fetch something.  I drop something.  I collect it again.  I organise.  I liaise.  I find.  I send a mail.  I answer an email.  I source something.  I order something.  I get a number.  I put something on Facebook.  I upload.  I get a quote.  I interview someone.  I register.  I find a repair guy.  I make an appointment.  This is all stuff I do.  Every day.  None of it is difficult.  None of it is hard.

The irony?  I like doing it.  I’m enjoying it.  I have immense satisfaction in ticking something off my list.  Of doing something semi-tricky, and having success.

And it is all made easier by the fact that I like the people I’m a PA for.  Yes, the people.  An entire family.  They appreciate what I do.  They thank me for it.  They verbalise gratitude.  They’re friendly and kind.  Not dismissive of the sometimes menial stuff I do.  They’re friendly.  Basically, they’re just plain nice.

Which makes me want to help them.  And therein lies the difference.  It is all about how people treat you, and how they make you feel.

So what is the downside?  Well the downside is lack of sleep.  A mere four to five hours a night.  Every single night.  Seven nights a week.  Added to my work schedule, I’ve got three kids.  A home.  Meals to be cooked.  Homework to be supervised.  Orals that need to be prepared.  Extra-murals that need kids dropped off or fetched from.  A husband.

Quite obviously, something’s got to give.  And for now, the list is sleep, my daily walks, and blogging. 

And I miss all three.

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I miss this baby A LOT!!!

I've neglected you a bit - sorry!

 

I've neglected you a bit - sorry!
7 August 2014

I love, love, LOVE my blog!  With a passion.

But lately, real life has had a nasty habit of not allowing me the time to blog.  How rude!

I enjoy being busy.  So I don’t mind the busy at all.  In fact, the busy I’m doing at the moment, is creative.  So it’s friggin awesome.

Still there’s been work, and kids, and the usual run of the mill running about.

Added to that, a daughter performing in a fabulous show at the Barnyard Theatre in Durbanville.  A forty minute drive away from home.  Loads of rehearsals, and extra dancing practices.  Sorting out costumes, with little bits and bobs still needed, continually popping up.  Non-stop.

Combined together, all these bits, led to a lack of story writing time.

But I’d like to go out on a limb and say, “I’m back!”.

The show and all the accompanying costume chaos, dress rehearsals, and performances is over.  Yeehaaa!

And thus, I’ve got me a little bit more time.  Hells yeah!  Amazing how quickly one is able to fill it again.

Also, funny how, after all the show-hoopla, I’m missing it now.  At the time I was going batty.  Run off my feet.

But now I’m missing the air of excitement and the thrill of watching the show.

Looking forward with baited breath to the DVD.  Which I’m sure we’ll watch repeatedly.  And to be fair, in anticipation, we’ve been watching some of the previous show DVD’s so long.

However, the bottom line is this – blogging shall commence more often.  Cause I’ve missed it terribly.

So watch this space…

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Happy 2nd Birthday Blog!!!

 

Happy 2nd Birthday Blog!!!
18 July 2014

And just like that, my baby is a toddler.  At two years old, my blog is gaining feet.  Walking.  Occasionally, even bursting into a sprint.  Arms spread out wide.  Joyfully embracing the world.

Happy, Happy Birthday to my much beloved blog.  What an incredible, and unforgettable journey I started on the 18^th of July 2012.  One I never imagined would lead me here.

Two years, 533 stories, 233 037 views, and 2 123 843 google hits later.

But those are just numbers.  Quantifiable.  But numbers none the less.

The personal growth for me has far exceeded that.  In leaps and bounds.  Unmeasurable ways. 

I’ve always had a conscience and a sense of self awareness.  Of the influence one can have on others.  How positivity, can cultivate positivity.  How what you give, is more important, than what you get back.  The value of chronicling your life and experiences, so that you can remember.  Not just the extraordinary.  But the very ordinary, special-because-of-their-very-mundane-normality days too.  The speed with which my children’s childhood is whizzing past.  The importance of commemorating events.  Of rejoicing in the small things in life.  Because the truth of the matter, is that they’re actually the big things in life.

And the blog has highlighted all of this for me.  In beautiful, amazing, bright and brilliant techni-colour. 

Giving me both a microscope at times, to analise things intently, and the hazy comfort of stepping back and seeing the bigger picture at other times.

What a wonderful, marvellous, incredible gift.

Looking back at old stories, I am so grateful for the gift of descriptive words.  Because without them, those special little stories would get lost.  You think you will remember them.  But you won’t.  It gets hazy.  And eventually, it just gets lost.

And thus, perhaps my greatest gift of all, has been a selfish one.  To me.  From me.

My writing. 

My creative outlet.  My voice.  My space to indulge in my odd sense of humour.  To appreciate the quirky side of life.  To be able to see the funny in everyday ordinary things, that might otherwise drive me batty.  A platform for me to express myself and process that which I see around me.  To try and make sense of it all.

And for me, an exceptionally and remarkably unperceptive person, the reward I’ve gotten back, has been life changing.  The gift of really thinking about things.  Of looking deeper.  Seeing further.  Of perhaps becoming more perceptive. 

I don’t know if it was lurking there the whole time already.  Maybe.  And perhaps all that was needed was to tap into that ability.  Cause to be fair, I never really knew I could write either.  And that once I started writing, it would be so ridiculously easy.  So fun.  Each story, like going on a marvellous adventure or trip.  Without the tedious and boring packing of luggage.  Or going for vaccine shots.  Exploring along the way.  Bursting forth with speed and fervour.  Never tough to write.  Never laborious or dull. 

I celebrate the opportunity the blog has given me to archive my children’s lives through their very own words and actions.  Their stories and adventures.  And mine on the side lines.

Thanx to those of you, who’ve joined me on this journey.  For the likes, the comments, the shares, and the connecting.  The kind words in person.  The encouragement and appreciation.  But mostly for the reading.  For listening with your eyes, through my words.

It’s been amazeballs!  And I look forward to the next exciting chapter. 

 

When my blog is 2 years and 1 day old…

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Pen for hire

Pen for hire
7 July 2014

Nearly two years after my blogging journey first started, I’ve got my first paid writing gigs.  Within a week of each other.  What are the odds?

Yes, indeed.  I am now a paid writer.  Of newsletters.

Hey, I think it’s pretty cool.  And I’m damn chuffed to have both the faith in me, and the bucks too.

The one is a weekly gig, and the other, a termly one.  And I enjoy the added challenge.

How funny is life?  Neither are about topics I’m overly familiar with.  Or knowledgeable about.  Yet, if the bare basics are supplied, it’s been proven that I can waffle on about anything.  Really, anything.  Fairly convincingly too.

A very good acquaintance contacted me out of the blue, to help her with her business newsletter.  A task that usually fills her with dread.  And lethargy.  I immediately agreed.  And believe it or not, but she absolutely loved my efforts.  And said that it was exactly the tone and style she was aiming for.  Yet couldn’t achieve on her own.

I mentioned this stroke of good luck, to a very good friend, who immediately replied, “Hey, won’t you help me too?”.  And luckily for me, she was utterly charmed with my penmanship as well.

And just like that, I was a paid author.  It’s true. 

Up to now, I’ve written for me.  For fun.  For enjoyment.  As a means of archiving my children’s childhood.  And as a diary.  A near daily slice of my life.  And I will continue with this, irrespective of other writing jobs.  It feeds me.  My heart and my soul.  And brings me great joy and fulfilment. 

But as for the whole commissioned writing thing?  Silly, but it means a lot to me.  These are my first spin-offs from the blog.  And in a way it both justifies my efforts and dedication to the blog, as well as endorses my writing skills.  Someone else thinks it’s good.  And it’s worthy.  In fact, they’re willing to put their money where their mouth is, and pay me for it.  For my skill, or gift.  A gift I never even knew I had.

Given the confidence they’ve put in me to project and portray their very personal businesses, I am deeply touched.  It is a huge honour.  And an extreme show of faith and belief in me.  In addition, it gives me value in my abilities.

One that I am deeply grateful for.

And given my absolute delight and pride at these opportunities, I don’t think that a weekly column in a glossy magazine could feel any more special. 

I feel victorious!

These are but baby steps.  But they’re my baby steps.  And I’m proud of them.

So I would just like to put it out there.  That I’m a gun for hire.  A mercenary.

Ready, willing and able.  My words are my weapons.  And I’ll wield them for you.

A big shout out to fabulous friends.  For faith, encouragement, support and unending belief.

You’ve given me wings.

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