7 Random Things to end off 2007

I have been tagged by Leigh to do this "me me" and I'm actually kinda looking forward to thinking up seven random things! (Oh and hi Leigh! Nice to meet you!) So, here goes... Seven Random Things to end off 2007...

1. I am incredibly lazy. Exercise is like a swearword for me. Even thinking of exercise makes me break out in the sweats, which is probably just as well, because I very seldom actually do exercise, so my body could use the sweats as often as possible! (But my new year's resolution is to exercise more often... splutter splutter! I'm already feeling a hernia coming on.)
2. I have never lived in one house longer than two years. My dad says I have ants in my pants. He's probably right. Ants and spiders.
3. I am an accomplished pianist, but I don't have a piano at home. I've been offered a few "cd recordings" over the years, but I don't trust myself not to make a huge mess-up of it, so I sort of worm my way out of it. I'm silly like that... I'd rather think of what "could have been" than wish I'd done better at it.
4. I really want people to remember me fondly when I die. I want them to have an ENORMOUS funeral, with lots of weeping and sad somber songs. I have even chosen what songs I want them to play at my funeral one day. And now that I've freaked most of you out...
5. When I grow up I want to be Paris Hilton! (just kidding!) I am very unambitious. I don't like working. If it were up to me, I'd spend all day sitting at home reading, knitting, baking, watching telly, painting paintings and romping on the couches with all the cats. But unfortunately, I'm not Rockafella; I'm the other fella. So, to work I go. If only I'd lived in the 1700's when I could have been a "kept woman" or the sixties, when women were expected to be barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen. Although that wouldn't work for me either, what with the UNpregnant part...
6. Speaking of which, I have stopped reading "trying to fall pregnant" books, blogs, et cetera. Our escapades into the land of fertility issues have left me dazed, disappointed and delusional disillusioned. We are now persuing happiness of a different sort. Some would gather children, we would gather pets. Welcome to our Zoo. Where the cows and the cats and the corgies roam freely. And where I might need to purchase a few boxes of "anti-mad" pills to keep the craziness at bay. c",)
7. We have resolved that 2008 is going to be a GREAT year for us. It will be our HAPPY year. 2007 brought many challenges for us. Financial, emotional, spiritual, everythingshinal! We have decided that come what may, 2008 will be the year that finds us sitting firmly at the Saviour's feet. Because every day that He gives us is one to be appreciated and enjoyed. And no matter way may happen, we have the reassurance that everything will work out for our eternal good. Because that's what He wants for us. "... a plan to prosper us and not to harm us; a plan to give us hope and a future..."

Happy New Year everyone. May 2008 find you also happier, kinder, more trusting in the Saviour, and one step closer to realizing your dreams.

We're in Durban for New Years (and our wedding anniversary...) so we're already having fun. Chat to you again next year!

What Christmas looks like

And so here I was all ready to upload some pics for you to see, and then Blogger decided not to allow me to post any pics today. I keep getting error messages... ugghhh... oh well! Sorry guys, but you'll have to look at them the LONG way round. Click on the album below for pics.
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Christmas 2007

Here I am to Worship

I just had to share this video with you. It's one of my favourites and I think it's the perfect end to a gloriously beautiful day. Enjoy!
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Christmas thingies

I really wanted to post Christmas news a whole lot sooner, with bunches of groovy pics for ya'll... but our computer at home is about as old as I am, and therefore has about as much memory as I have, which means that space is rather limited, so things tend to freeze up at the most critical moments and pictures don't get saved and then things get rather confucious and cranky pretty quickly. And therefore not very Christmas-spirit'y. If you know what I'm saying. That's my story and I'm sticking to it. So, hopefully this weekend some time I'll make a pittstop at my work office and download some cheery christmas pics for you all to see.
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We actually had a really christmassy christmas. With loads of gifts, yummy food and fun times with family. My dad even dressed up as Father Christmas! (But someone forgot to pack the fake beard, so there was no fooling anyone into believing he was really Father Christmas... not even little Ethan who just turned four a few months ago...) But it was still fun seeing him squeeze into the outfit. I have it on dvd to show you all, as soon as I can figure out how to connect it to my computer get to my work office to download it. Not only were we all spoiled rotten with groovy gifts, but I also acquired a rather funky tan, leaving me resembling a radish. (I was going to say resembling a cranberry, but "brown as a berry" would be a bit of a stretch of the imagination. Radish is way more apt a description. What with it's crisp white top and bloodred skin... ) And a nose like Rudolph. As in the reindeer. Tis what Christmas in South Africa is all about. Sun burn et cetera.
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Tis hence the season to be wearing lots of Factor Fifty Two.
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And a wide-brimmed hat.
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It wouldn't hurt. At least not as much as the blisters on my shoulders. Although it would leave me looking like a german tourist. And hence make me a target for pickpockets and the like. (*Note to self: need to spend some time reading dictionary again to improve vocab - use of "tis" and "hence" becoming a tad profuse*)
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One of my favourite gifts was from my hubby: he bought me the cutest little boozie-hanger for christmas. One of those really cute little white lace and satin numbers. The type that makes you humm "I'm too sexy for my shirt" when you're dressing. And prance around the room once or twice before doing up that last button, just to see if there is any jiggling going on down there. And it reminded me that I still have not posted BEFORE and AFTER pics! How absent-minded of me. Which makes me a bit relieved that I have my "geriatric computer that has no hard-drive space left for new pics" excuse to hide behind. Because, apparently, there are a few people who don't believe I've even had some renovations done. No names mentioned Chrissy. I will be posting before and after pics soon. And that's all I have to say about that.
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So anyway, guys... Here's hoping your post-traumantic-Christmas weekend is a relaxed one. With lots of leftovers still in the fridge and lots of time on your hands to enjoy it. Sleep until you're hungry, then eat until you're tired. That's what I always say. (And that's why I'm going to need some lipo soon too. Just kidding. Seriously. No lipo for me. At least not this year. Haha. No, really, just kidding.)

Christmas murder shopping

Remind me never to go last-minute-Christmas-shopping the day before Christmas ever again. I must have been crazy. Seriously. I thought I was having a hard time managing my hormones the last time I went shopping and had to find a parking space at the mall... This morning I was contemplating a few new scratches to our 4x4, and at the time I thought it would have been worth it!!!!

Anyway, ho ho ho, everyone! Merry Christmas to all of you.
Chat again soon!

Work work work

I am stttttiiiiiiiilllllll working... And by "working" I really mean sitting in my office moping while everyone else is having a fat jol. I am feeling o-so-sorry for myself. If I just pulled up my socks and put some real elbow grease into it, I would have been finished aaaaages ago. But no, I'd rather sit here moping, feeling sorry for my lazy bones, than just get it all finished up. Because I'm sensible like that. I haven't even put up my Christmas tree or fairy lights yet this year, so that should tell you something!

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One good thing though, is that I'm pretty much finished with our Christmas shopping. Except for my brother-in-law, who is super rich, has everything he could ever want, and is a real pain in the oo-all to buy for challenge to shop for. Oh well... my sister-in-law reckons we should give give him dosh, but he has enough of that already anyway!!! And of course, shopping in Dunfiddledeedee is also really conducive to finding a groovy gift for him, what with it's ENORMOUS selection of shops. *Sob!*

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Oh and to put some real fuel on the fire - my hormones are all whacked again. As in totally wacko. Makes for some interesting shopping experiences, I'll tell you that much. And fights races for parking spaces. I'm blaming the camp food we ate for two weeks. There's only so much rice you can eat before things go haywire...

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Before I return to my slave labour, thought you might enjoy a really easy, yummy recipe to add to your Christmas day menu (especially if you live in the southern hemisphere where we're all dripping with sweat this time of the year)... I call it Nougat Ice Cream.

Ingredients

• 2 litres vanilla ice-cream. The full cream stuff. It's only Christmas once a year after all.
• 8 - 20 blocks of fudge (depending on your sweet tooth) broken into smaller pieces
• one third of a cup of glacé cherries, chopped into small pieces
• at least 2 big slabs of dark chocolate (or mint choc), melted
• 1 big stick of french nougat, chopped into pieces the size of your finger nail

What to do

• melt the ice-cream to a thick sludgy milkshake consistency
• toss in all the other ingredients except the melted dark chocolate
• give a quick stir through to make sure the bits are well distributed
• half the mixture
• pour the melted dark choc (which you've allowed to cool slightly) over the one half
• add the other half of icecream on top of the dark choc
• pour the remaining dark choc over the top
• Pop back into your freezer overnight
• It's really good served with crumbled fudge over the top

If you enjoy nuts, oreos, M&Ms, etc. you might want to add a few too. I don't like "hard things" in ice-cream so, we do it without. Because I'm the cook and I get to decide. There are advantages to being the one in the kitchen when the food's being prepared, I guess. c",)

So, happy eating, everyone. And if I don't get to blog again before Christmas, which is a real possibility right now, then HAPPY CHRISTMAS too! One last Christmas Jig from Robin and I for all of you.

Just in case...

The kids are GONE! Hooray! Just as well I don't have a video-cam connected to my p.c. because if I did you'd see me shaking my booty over here. And, believe me, that aint a pretty sight. What with my wobbledy butt and my grey hairs, etc. (not on my butt! On my head! - Just in case you were overdosing on the eggnogg there.)

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But we are freeeee... well, sort-of free-ish. I am still at work, back in my office, sorting through paperwork, catching up on the admin I wasn't able to do when the delinquents kids were still here, but I should have it all wrapped up by tomorrow afternoon, and then it's HOOOOOLIDAY! Happy days. I already have a brand new novel lined up for those lazy summer days when I'm draipsed into the hammock on our stoep (that's South African for patio - pronounced like "woop", but with a "st" instead of the "w"). It's called "World Without End" by Ken Follet. You can read an excerpt here. It's the sequel to my fave book of all time: "The Pillars of The Earth". And you can read an excerpt of that one here. Oh, and just in case you were wondering where you'd heard of that book before, Oprah just added it to her "Oprah's Book Club" November 2007 selection. Probably because she was sick and tired of getting a letter a month from me recommending it for her club. The least she could do to thank me would be a first-class ticket to her show. I'm just saying! c",) Haha. Just kidding. But I really wouldn't mind if she did. I might be able to squeeze it into my Christmas schedule. Oprah, if you're reading this, you can contact me by posting a comment. (You know, just in case!)

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Anyway, ya'll... here's wishing you a wonderful day today. I'm going to wrap up this office of mine a.s.a.p. so I can go home and get tucked into my new book.

Geriatric and friends *updated*

I got my first taste of what it feels like to be called "tannie" this week. For those of you who are non-South African, "tannie" (pronounced "tie" and "knee") means "aunty" and is usually a respectful term coined by Afrikaans-speaking young people for those who they see as muuuuuch older than them. Tis hence the season to be very depressed. Shocking! When did old age creep up on me??? OK, so I'd noticed the odd grey hair here and there. And a few smile lines. But shucks, these kids who are here now are like 13 years and older, and even some of the early twenty-year-olds are calling me "tannie"! My shattered nerves! Roll on the wheelchair. Oh and the false teeth. They'll match my false brown hair colour. Yikes!

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Incidentally... to add insult to ego-injury, my friend (some ten to twelve years or so younger than me) and I were walking together towards the dining hall one day of the kids camp, and a twenty-something-year-old walked up to us and said, "like, hey... are you two, like, um, mother and daughter or something?" Clearly, it's time to get my roots dyed. Those grey hairs are showing me up.

Sigh

It feels like I'm coming up for air - just logging on to say hello. I can't even begin telling you how busy we've been. There are kids. EVERY. WHERE. All busy. All the time. All making me verrrry tired. We arrive at work with the sparrows in the morning, and leave at some awful hour every night when every other sane person on the planet is already kicking up a fat snore or two. Two weeks of this! What were we thinking?!? But, Monday's a-comin! And then we are officially on leave! Halelujah! Come on Monday, come on, come on... Come on Monday, come on! (And then I'll be blogging more regularly again too. Promise!)

Shucks, I've missed blogging...
Hope you guys have a fab weekend.
Chat soon...
[hectic with the kiddies still... sorry!]

Camp!

In spite of my best ill intentions I am LOVING camp! We have just short of one hundred kids here with us and we are splitting at the seams, but making do. Ten counselors, 100 kids. That's about a ratio of ten to one... but then we have to factor into the equation that these kids are between the ages of 7-12, which means they have the energy of four adults, so the ratio is more like FORTY to ONE! Yikes! But what a GREAT group. Of counselors. Haha! Ooookaaaay, and kids. Sorry this is such a shorty, but hectic hectic hectic. As only one who's been a slave helper at camp can understand. Eleven days to go! Here are some pics of what we've gotten up to with the animals campers... and here's a quickie pic of me and my fab hubby too (taken yesterday).

Junior Festival 2007

Busy-ness

Madness at work. Last working day before camp begins. Have the jitters. And the irritations and the complete confucious chaos's. Who knows when I'll have time to pick my nose relax and blog again! So, here's wishing you guys a great weekend. Think of us, with ninety-odd kids descending on us in less than 48 hours time! Heaven help us! I feel a hernia coming on.

Kit-Kat

It turns out our new kitty is not a SHE but a HE! You could call it a case of mistaken identity. But the vet says he is a very sturdy 4-5 week old little fella. So, you know what that means? Feeds through the night, with a special little baby bottle and formula, wiping his butt so that he'll know it's time to go do his business, and all those other fun fun jobs. What a cutie pie he is! Now it's just naming the little guy... We have a few ideas. What do you think?

What should we name our new kitty?
	Jonah - as in Lomu (because he's an All Black!)
	Peanut Butter - Peanut for short (because Black Cat Peanut Butter is the best peanut butter on the planet)
	Shadow
	Uswot (it means "black" in Old Egyptian / Persian language)
	Boytjie
View Results

Or give us some suggestions ok?

Newbie

My heart is pumping thick lumpy custard! Siggghhhh... Guess what is sitting on my lap right now? Our brand new little kitty, which Robin rescued from a tyre dump in town today! Just look at this cutie pie! Awwwww, hello kitty...

She's been purring on my lap all day. Apart from the times she almost suckled my finger nails off that is. Isn't she just the most beautiful little thing? So, we're brainstorming names. Any ideas?

Freshly ground

It. Is. Crazy. At. Work. Right. Now.
We have a group of kids arriving for their kiddies camps on Sunday, so it is total frenzy here this week. Fax machine spewing forth garbled faxes; telephone and cellphone ringing simultaneously; a barrage of helpers in and out of my madhouse office firingamillionandonequestionsandneedinganswersimmediately... and of course blogger's website not working all day today... Think total frustration. After yesterday's madness, I brought in some much needed artillary caffeine this morning. To control the jitters and all. I know, I know - so much for my resolution to avoid all things of an addictive nature, e.g. cyber-heaven, caffeine, etc. Not forgetting my daily dose of Oprah, of course. Oh, did I tell you about that resolution? Maybe I didn't. Not surprising, considering the whirlwind of activity total craziness here right now. So, aaaaaannnnnyway... Caffeine. I came to work armed this morning. With the good stuff. Mocha Java, baby. Perched precariously on my very overladen desk today is my cappuccino maker, complete with frother, coffee grounds, milk and the water fountain standing at attention. A really lekker bonus I hadn't really factored into the equation was what a powerful bargaining chip it would be here at work. It's all about bribery and corruption. I've had an endless stream of beggars colleagues coming to me with all manner of favours for bartering in exchange for a cuppa. Shucks! If I'd known the magical power of this sweet-smelling brew, I'd have brought it to work ages ago. Because I'm lazy like that. Why should I slave away, when there are dozens of others to do the work, I always say. Which probably accounts for a few of my fatrolls and my new fave theme song... (and they just happen to be named Freshly Ground - like, as in coffee! It's fate, I tell you!)

spam!

I would love to be able to say I had a valid excuse for not blogging the last few days, but really I was just totally uninspired to say anything. And you all know how rare that is for me. It's been WONDERFUL being back home at my hillbilly dump, doing nothing convalescing. Me and my ladies are feeling so much better now. This time last week was agony. So, life's looking decidedly perkier for me now. Maybe one of the boring reasons why I haven't blogged or even gone online once since I'm home (until now) was because I was really just so sick and tired of being sore all day long, and feeling like there was no end to the pain in sight. But, today things are really looking up. And bouncy. Sorry - I just couldn't resist.

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But, it was also a mini-experiment for myself too. I had become a bit hooked on cyber-space lately (my addictive personality thingy), and wanted to see how long I could last without even plugging in my 3G doodab. Three days. And then my fingers started twitching I couldn't resist just checking if I had emails waiting. Listen to this disappointing total for three days worth of waiting... grand total: sixty six unread emails. Woop dee doo. And of those sixty six emails, guess how many were NOT forwards? Three. So, sorry folks, if any of your mails to me had a "fw" at the start of the subject, it was just deleted by moi. Because, really, how many "happy friends day" or "good morning" emails can you read before they become meaningless? Here's to taking my emails by the horns! Power to the people! Viva! (Some of my South African roots showing there. Ja nee.)

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Thanks for the suggestions for a gift for my tjommie, guys. As much as I'd love to buy her a spa treatment, that would involve babysitters for her son while she's gone warra warra fish paste... so me thinks a barney (or some other similar equally annoying) dvd - with matching earplugs set - is the way to go. Maybe it's a good thing I never got to be a mom! Shucks... that Mommy Business is some serious stuff! Staying up all night, changing some nappies akin to nuclear waste, listening to "mama, mama, mama, mama" over and over and over and over and over and over and over again... That's some tough stuff, that's for sure. Trying on the nerves. And the wallet. And the sleep. Gawsh, I really don't know if I'd have had the metal for that kind of lifelong responsibility. Especially considering my propensity for doing fickle things like sleeping late, eating when I feel like eating, staying clean all day, smelling nice, dashing off to visit friends at a moment's notice, et cetera. It would really mean your life is TOTALLY different once you're a parent. And I'm begining to enjoy my life as it is now, thank you very much. I like having a nice, neat, quiet home.

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Who am I kidding? I would have LOVED to have been a mom! But, I'm beginning to see, too, that I can also be happy as a non-mom. Thank goodness for that! A year or so ago, there was no reasoning with this silly billy. I did not even want to consider the possibility that mommydom might not be in the cards for me. I refused to accept that eventuality. But moving forward and letting it go has been the best thing I've ever done. A childless life for me, now, isn't so scary anymore.

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So anyway, basically, life = v groovy for me right now.

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My parents, sister, nephew and bro-in-law arrive tonight for the weekend. Should be loads of fun! They say they're missing us and life on the farm but I think they're just curious dying to see my new additions. Hee hee! I'll probably post some pics for you to see on Sunday. (Of my family etc., not the gals yet. They're still really swollen and not looking the way they will in a few weeks time. More realistic expectations of outcome only around Christmas time... so, if you're good, I might post some before and after pics only then.)

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OK, I'm going to log off now. I have bunches of other people's blogs to catch up on from the last few days. Toodledoo!

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PS if your housekeeping's not quite up to date and your need to have your monitor cleaned, click here!

Going home

We are travelling home today. I am so excited! But I know it's going to be a very painful journey. Five hours in a vehicle, hugging a cushion to my chest to minimize bounce. I've already popped some big bomb painkillers. Just in case. Can't wait to be in my home though. In my bed. With my couch. My kitties. With my remote control. et Cetera. Yay! It's been a really cushy stay here at my tjommie's house. But for a non-mom, it's been hard too. I can quite happily say that I never want to hear another Cedarmont Kids song ever again. Ever. As in, till I die one day. But other than that - I can only gush about how wonderful my tjommie's been. (She doesn't read my blog, so this isn't for her benefit, ok?) Talk about looking after an invalid. I owe her big time. I know what a pain in the oo-all I can be when I'm feeling rotten. Any ideas what a really grateful big-boobed person can buy as a thank you for someone special who went beyond the call of duty to make a miserable invalid feel comfy?

The novelty died *updated*

OK, I'm suffering from sense of humour failure now. I really thought by now my boobs, or more specifically, my right boob, would be less sore by now. On Monday on the drive home to my friend's house from the hospital, we hit a couple of potholes that left my right boob really sore afterwards. I thought it would die down, but this right boob of mine is just plain friggin sore. All. The. Time. The best way I can describe it is like a toothache, that is a dull achey pain all the time, but throbs every now and again, and twinges when I use my arm too quickly. So I am popping painkillers all the time and hoping it's nothing too serious. I have my follow up appointment with the surgeon on Monday morning (sort of for an alignment, tee hee!) but when I phoned his practise the receptionist said it sounded like "phantom pain". Phantom pain my oo-all! I'm just sick and tired of it now. Sore. Sore. Sore. I wasn't actually going to tell you about it, seeing as this is self-inflicted pain and I volunteered for it and and and... I didn't want a bunch of "well you deserve it" comments... but we all know how good I am at keeping things from you guys.

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Other than that, all is well in the land of deep cleavage.
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My hubby arrived last night and it's absolutely heavenly having here with me. He is, um, impressed with my new additions! hee hee.

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Hope you guys have a wonderful weekend.
Me? I'm going to be topping up on some good painkillers.

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I just got back from the surgeon. He took one look, had a fiddle here and a fiddle there, opened the drains, pulled one long clot out one of them, and it was like INSTANT pain relief. I am totally painfree now, people. No pain whatsoever! Can't even begin to tell you what a huge relief it is! HOORAY!!!

Mammie

I've been trying to blog all day, but just couldn't seem to find something to blog about. Mmm... I've come to the conclusion that big-breasted women totally lack brains apparently my brains were vacuumed out during surgery, rendering me incapable of anything requiring imagination. It's hard to blog about anything but the boozies right now. Sorry folks. And I was trying so hard to "resume my blog's normal programming" too. Oh well. The stuck record is, well, truly stuck.

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Before I go though, I must tell you about my friend Riana's little boy, Jean. He calls his mommy "Mama". Apparently I am now officially mommy number two, because he's taken to calling me "Mammie". It was a bit heartsore for me the first couple of times he called me Mammie - I never thought I'd ever hear someone calling me that - but I must say, I am growing to love the sound of it. I get a wonderfully warm, squishy feeling when I hear him calling me that name, usually reserved for mothers. I could quite get used to it!

Boozie update

You think you guys can't believe I actually went through with it. I woke up three times last night just to check that I actually had boobs, because it felt like an awesome dream that I just didn't want to wake up from! Needless to say, I am totally smitten. EVERYBODY should get boobs! Yay for boobs!

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OK, so I was a little sore last night. Sore enough to wish I could take more than two painkillers at a time. And down a few bottles of vodka. And I don't even drink, people! So, yes, the pain has arrived. But still not as bad as what I expected, from reading Tertia's experience with her new girlies.

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Speaking of arrivals, tomorrow my hubby arrives for the weekend. So, excitement abounds. He can't wait to meet Pammy and Dolly. I can't wait to have someone to tie my shoelaces. And have someone else around to ooh and aah over my gals. Yes, I'm not afraid to admit that I am indeed just a wee bit of a braggart right now. Who could blame me when, OH MY WORD, I have boobs!

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This morning I had my first bath since the op. Took me about three hundred years to climb into the bath, even with my tjommie holding me up. And then about fifty two years to climb back out again afterwards. But at least now I smell as fresh as a daisy and feel absolutely wonderful.

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Anyway, just wanted to update you and thank you for all the comments! I love getting comments. Opium of the bloggers and all of that. I'm sure you must be sick and tired of hearing about my boobs all the time. I'm a bit of a stuck record right now. This blog will return to it's usual programming soon. Promise.

No Booboo's for me!

I am home, with my new 400cc's of boobs and a big bag of pills! I am soooooo excited! I can't tell you how awesome it is to have cleavage, baby! There is actually a valley between my boobs, people. A VALLEY! I was anticipating total agony, but this isn't even really really sore. A bit uncomfortable, but otherwise totally manageable. With pills. And coffee.

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My shattered nerves, I must tell you about my experience in the ward! I was in the geriatric ward, with six beds, so there were five other grannies ladies in the ward with me. It was obvious they weren't there for plastic surgery. If you know what I mean. They were all sixty and older. With really chronic cases of flatulence. If you want to know why I didn't get much sleep, then there's your reason. The one lady was even grossing herself out with the stench. Seriously! At one stage I thought I should ask for a gas mask. And they don't even try to fart quietly. Well, let's put it this way - if they were trying to do so silently, then pursuit of excellence surely isn't their strongsuit. And I mean that as kindly as is humanly possible, while holding your nose shut.

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Needless to say, me and my nose are both ecstatic to be at my tjommie's home again. As for my two new gals, they are gaaaaaawjus, doll. I've named them Dolly and Pammy. I luvvem luvvem luvvem. I can't believe I actually did it. So many years of bemoaning my bee stings. And now it's all over. I have bazookas now, baby. Really round boozies. I can't believe it. Granted, they are still really swollen and a bit really sore right now, but man oh man. Words fail me. I. Have. Boobs.

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And that's all I have to say about that.

Me and my boob-do

Yay! I get my boobs in three hours time! Am beyond excited now. Not nervous anymore. I get booked in at 12h00, surgery at 14h00, sleep the night and book out tomorrow morning about eightish nineish. Woot woot! Yay for boobs! Am going to a private hospital for the sugery so, it should be groovy. Not that I'm really going to have an appreciation for my environment once I have my boobs and all... my eyes might be a bit more prone towards my new, um, additions. You know. Very verrrryyy excited now.

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The doctor is awesome too, just so by the way. Not an old toppie or hoity-toity or anything. Very relaxed, but comes highly recommended. I honestly have NO reservations about the procedure or about anything. I even said to the doctor that the only thing more he could do that would make me extra happy would be to put a hot water bottle in my bed after the surgery! Tee hee... he said he'd do even better than that and put a "bear hug" on me or something like that. Apparently it's a really fluffy blankie that blows out hot air! Awesome. No cold feet for me!

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Just wish my hubby was also here... Otherwise, this is one happy chappy.

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So guys, I'll be chatting again maybe tomorrow, maybe the next day ok?

Here I go.

It's TODAY!

It's today! It's today!
Oh my word!
I am so nervous I could just pop.
Am about to leave for the consult with doc.
Oh my word!
EEEEEK!

One more sleep *updated*

So, today is my last day as sponge-stuffing Char! Woo hoooo! This afternoon I drive up to Johannesburg with friends who spent the weekend here in Dundee on the farm, and I'll be gone for two weeks. Tomorrow it's surgery, and then recuperation afterwards. I am still not nervous. At all. Just really excited. But I'm going to miss my hubby something terrible! He can't go with me, seeing as we have two major kiddies camps in December to prepare for, and my boss (honey that he is!) said I could go no matter how busy things are at work right now. How do I thank him for being such a groovy boss? He actually said Robin could go too, but we refused. We are a three-man-team, and if two of us disappear just weeks before two major camps, then what's going to happen with the preparations? So, these next two weeks are going to be hard for me, not seeing my gorgeous man every day...

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I will try my best to blog and to get emails and things, but I don't know if my 3G thingy will work at my friend's house... It should work, being Johannesburg and all! The biggest city in South Africa. If it's going to work anywhere, then it should work there! If it doesn't, sjoe!, I don't know what I'm going to do without being able to blog!

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So, peoples, here's wishing you a wonderful two weeks, just in case. Wooot woot! Sooooo exciting!

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OK, so it's two hours since I wrote this post, and now my bags are packed and I am ready to go. All of a sardine I am SOOOOO nervous I am actually shaking. My shattered nerves! Might need a few sedatives. And a couple hundred pots of coffee. It's not that I'm second-guessing my decision to have the op... I'm just scared of waking up afterwards and being really sore! Which is totally unavoidable, but still hectically scary! Like as in scared out of my flipping wits! EEK!

Blog-a-phobic!

Wowee, talk about stirring up a hornet's nest! In retrospect I was definitely WRONG WRONG WRONG to post so hastily yesterday. I get one comment that doesn't go "Yay!" about my boozie issues and I'm instantly rattled. And didn't take long enough to think about what I was going to post. So, o-blog-a-holic-reading-peoples-out-in-cyber space, here's my sincere and humble apology for posting before giving some thought to what I wanted to say, and for not being gracious and kind and my usual frivolous self. I am most definitely a little bit volatile. Might very well be hormonal. Then again, I might just be a little more nervous about going ahead with the op than I actually realized. Nah... I totally DO WANT TO have the op. So it must be the former. Which wouldn't be totally unheard of, what with my hormones being the way they are. All helter skelter and all of that. But I'm not making excuses. I totally deserve to be eating humble pie.

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But, even though I'm apologizing, some of what I wrote yesterday still stands. This is my blog after all. Yes, it is a public place for anyone to come and look-see, comment, and so forth. But if you're going to comment on my bloggy, then comment nicely. And please leave your name! Anonymous immediately makes me feel nervous now, so if you want me to really enjoy your comment, or take it to heart, then here's a tip for you: leave your name. Or make up a name for yourself. Anonymous right now = me not too happy.

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Also, I want to apologize for saying "Yankees" or "Yankeeland" etc. I had NO IDEA that that was derogatory to anyone out there. I am one hundred percent totally-otally South African. I can say without reservation that I did not mean to offend anyone. I honestly meant it in an endearing manner, with lots of lovey-dovey feelings attached. Many of my closest friends are of the American persuasion, and seeing as none of them ever took offense at being called a Yankee, I had no reason to believe I was belittling anyone out there. Please accept my apologies for being totally toe-trodding! Truely, I thought it was like saying "honey" or "tjommie" or "pal" or something like that, but meaning American people in general. I always try to make my posts user-friendly to everyone who might be reading, and seeing as I'd noticed that my little map thingy in my right-hand column had many dots in America, I always tried to explain coloquialisms that might pop up in my blog every so often.
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So, here's to easy-reading again. Here's to a fun blog, where you get to share in my life and where I get to share freely without fear of judgement or blame.

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P.S. Thanks for all the comments, guys, and especially those who commented for the very first time ever, to say your say and to put my mind at ease. I love blogging and would hate to feel so intimidated by my readers that I would retract my blog from cyberspace.

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And now onto other topics. I got zapped by a spider last night. Wanna see the evidence? Ugghhh... this is what I get for living in the bush:-

So, this morning it was off to the doc again for more jobbas. And lots of mooti. And creams. Now you know why I detest spiders!!!

Dear Anonymous Lurker

I find it very interesting that almost all the comments that come up "anonymous" on my blog are usually derogatory or contradictory in nature. Very interesting. Makes me think the lurker is either scurrilous or just looking to annoy. Which makes them scurrilous anyway. Be gone, you lurker. Or identify yourself. One of the two. Otherwise I might need to close this blog to readers I do not know. Which would be sad for me indeed.

P.S. I don't mind having a good discussion, especially when we disagree a bit. Makes for interesting conversations. But this anonymous business is just plain annoying. Cowardly, really.

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P.S (2) I don't expect us always to agree. I respect that your opinion differs from mine. But at least own your opinion by putting your name on your comments.

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Now I'm going to make myself a cuppa coffee and hope you actually return to my blog to read my little post. Or not.

Extreme Make*ver, Bakkie Edition

Thought you might like to see what we've been getting up to at work the last few days... These are pics of the Bush Camp's bakkie (that's "pick-up" for Yankeeland-inhabitants) that we decided to renovate as an advert for two kids camps we're hosting in December. You should see the reaction when we're driving down the road in our new rig!

BEFORE:

and AFTER:

Arr arrr ye maties! Ahoy! Ye be invited to join us as we seek ferrrr treasurrrreee... (Going to be loads of fun. Can't wait!)

Going bust

Apparently the recovery for The Boobies is going to be hell on earth quite sore. I am generally such a ninny, but even excruciating agony will not keep me from going for this op! No pain, no gain and all of that! (Zara, you rock!) Oh, and apparently I will not be allowed to fall pregnant for at least six months afterwards. Haha! Very funny. I will also not be allowed to go fufi-sliding or bungee-jumping or horse-back riding for at least six weeks. Haha! Also very funny. Because, clearly I am the very active type who loves doing all manner of adrenalin-inducing sport. Haha! Soooo funny.
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So anyway, last night I had a rummage through my closet to look at my blouses and figure out which would be worth keeping and which would become a bit snug with the improved décolletage. Sadly, not many of them are discard-able... (And I was so looking forward to buying a whole new wardrobe too!)… seeing as I’ve pretty much always stuffed my bra with all manner of thingies to give me some shape… from wads of tissue when I was too young and shy to buy padded bras, to the awesome new very padded boozie-hangers at my fave stores lately. So the way I look now with all the sponge in my bra is pretty much how I will look after the surgery. Minus all the stuffing in my bra of course. Well, maybe a little more roundness too, and less ski-slopey-ness. More all-round squishiness et cetera. Yay!
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Five more sleeps till The Boozie Bonanza!

Keeping you abreast of the situation

I am sooooooo excited! I have big news, people. As in BEEEEEG. Kind of like how my boozies will be in a week's time. Yes, oh yes, o-blog-reading-ones, I have my boob-date set!!! Monday is the big day. Goodbye bee stings, hello boozies. Hello bikinis. And string vests. Adios padded bras. Bring on the bounce.

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This time next week I will already be recovering from my breast augmentation surgery grinning from ear to ear! And resting at my friend's house in Krugersdorp, which is where the surgeon and the private hospital are. Woot woot! Dream come true. A bra-burning session may well be necessary after my surgery, once I'm back in Dundee with my boozies in hand attached.

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Watch this space. I might just post a few before and after pics. If you're very good. And don't leave nasty comments.

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And now, an ode to my humps my humps boozies...

Travelling Wilburies

Just a quickie to tell you that Robin and I are in Durban today - dashed down this morning for a meeting and to do some retail therapy and then we're shooting back home to the Hillbilly dump tonight. Should be home by about 22h30... Makes me wonder if six hours in a car is worth two hours of shopping?!?!? Maybe not. BUT definitely worth it to see our folks again! Woot woot! Chat tomorrow again. Adios amigos!

Funny Friday

This post is 100% totally plagiarised from Especially Heather. I had SUCH a good laugh at it, I just had to steal it from her blog and share it with you. Happy Friday everyone.

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After every flight, UPS pilots fill out a form, called a “gripe sheet,” which tells mechanics about problems with the aircraft. The mechanics correct the problems; document their repairs on the form, and then pilots review the gripe sheets before the next flight.

Never let it be said that ground crews lack a sense of humor. Here are some actual maintenance complaints submitted by UPS ‘ pilots (marked with a P) and the solutions recorded (marked with an S) by maintenance engineers. By the way, UPS is the only major airline that has never, ever, had an accident.

P: Left inside main tire almost needs replacement.

S: Almost replaced left inside main tire.

P: Test flight OK, except auto-land very rough.

S: Auto-land not installed on this aircraft.

P: Something loose in cockpit

S: Something tightened in cockpit

P: Dead bugs on windshield.

S: Live bugs on back-order.

P: Autopilot in altitude-hold mode produces a 200 feet per minute descent

S: Cannot reproduce problem on ground.

P: Evidence of leak on right main landing gear.

S: Evidence removed.

P: DME volume unbelievably loud.

S: DME volume set to more believable level.

P: Friction locks cause throttle levers to stick.

S: That’s what friction locks are for.

P: IFF inoperative in OFF mode.

S: IFF always inoperative in OFF mode.

P: Suspected crack in windshield.

S: Suspect you’re right

P: Number 3 engine missing.

S: Engine found on right wing after brief search.

P: Aircraft handles funny.

S: Aircraft warned to: straighten up, fly right, and be serious.

P: Target radar hums.

S: Reprogrammed target radar with lyrics.

P: Mouse in cockpit.

S: Cat installed.

P: Noise coming from under instrument panel. Sounds like a midget pounding on something with a hammer.

S: Took hammer away from midget.

Eager Birthday Beaver

I am renown notorious for forgetting my friends' birthdays. Especially my BEST friends, for some strange reason. In fact, I have such a reputation for it that my friends are actually SURPRISED when I wish them happy birthday ON the day. And not, say, three weeks later when they mention what great gifts they received. I know I am bad at remembering birthdays, so I've taken appropriate measures to ensure I remember. I set a reminder on my computer. And on my cellphone. And I am registered on BlueMountain's registry-thingy-ma-jiggy so they email me a week in advance and send me ecards to forward on to my soon-to-be-a-year-older tjommie. Which I always forget to send. I am so bad. Luckily for me, I am totally lovable and irresistable, so my friends can't stay cross with me for too long. Fortunate trait that. c",) Usually they've forgiven me in time for my own birthday. Thank goodness!

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So anyway, one of my New Year's resolutions this year was to make sure I remembered my friends' birthdays. I'm not really a New-Years-Resolutions kinda gal, seeing as I've had the worst luck with a few of my resolutions; like these:-

• Will lose weight - at least 24 kg's (2002, 2003, 2004, etc.)
• Will drink less coffee (1942 to date)
• Will have baby (2002 to date)
• Will write a book (1993 to date)
• Will find old school friends who I've lost contact with (thanks to Facebook I can tick this one off the list for next year!)
• Will achieve worldwide fame
• Will be more patient with self
• (And hubby)
• Will befriend the neighbours (Our neighbours don't speak English. We don't speak Zulu. Might provice difficult, this one.)
• Will not smoke (I added this one because I have to succeed at at least one, and I've never smoked, so that's an easy peasy one to do!)

So, anyway, back to the birthday saga. There's one person who's birthday I NEVER forget. Maybe because he was my first love and all of that. But we are still tjommies*, and have *marginal* contact with eachother, so as not to ruffle anyone's feathers. Because people can't seem to understand that you can still be friends with someone (a few years) after you've broken up. But I digress.

Where was I? Oh birthday thingies. So, yesterday, Feeling-So-Good-About-Remembering-The-Birthday Char sends text message to MFL (my first love):-

Happy birthday you old fossil! Hope u're gonna chow some chocolate cake today. Pity u're not here with us on the plaas** going quading... Luv us 2 xxx

Get text message back from MFL within seconds:-

Howzit. Thx for the message. The big day is TOMORROW. The plaas jollers*** are still using the 1983 calendar! Some people... Jokes. Love to everyone. Take care. Thx again.

Char:-

Haha! What? Isn't today the first? Are you sure??? Haha! And I was just sending you a sticky note on facebook too.

(Facebook = new Best Friend Forever!)

MFL replies:-

You droll****! Jokes. Haha. Life is, ja, slow that side...

Clearly. c",) BUT, score major extra points for being Overeager Beaver and sending birthday greetings ONE WHOLE DAY in advance, for sure. Much better than forgetting, not so? Now, if only I can remember where I put my coffee mug...

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Glossary of South African slang:-

* Tjommies (pronounced "chaw-mees") = friends

** Plaas (pronounced like "cars" but with a "pl" instead of the "c") = farm

*** Jollers (pronounced "jaw-liz") = people having fun

**** Droll (pronounced "drawl", but with a short "aw" sound) = a term of endearment for poo

Stormy

There is an enormous storm brewing here today, so I probably won't be blogging until this blows over. MASSIVE thunder rumbling and colossal black clouds overhead. It's awesome! Chat soon! x

Working hard

Robin caught me on the sly! Clearly, we're working very hard today! Who can blame me for loving my job?

Moving forward

A few days ago (in the midst of cyber-nothingness, which is why I didn't tell ya'll about it) I got an sms from a friend who knew of someone who who might have three kiddies about to be placed up for adoption. They were aged a few months, 3yrs and 5yrs. In retrospect, I was surprised that I was not even remotely excited to receive the sms. Maybe it's because we've had so many false leads. SO many disappointments. So many attempts at building our family that have fallen through, that I can no longer muster up even a semblance of excitement at another "prospect." A little while ago I was beginning to feel like a scavenger, always on the prowl, my tentacles out, eagerly awaiting some news of some disaster that would leave an orphan looking for a home. And I even disgusted myself. How pitiful the realization that I was wishing some calamity to befall some family, to fulfil my desires for a child. And then, after I received the sms from my friend, Robin and I sat down and spoke about if we could or would take the three of them if we had an opportunity to. And we decided not to. An instant family is one thing. An instant family of "grown" children is another thing totally. We always said that if we adopted, it would be a baby. At the most two years of age. If possible. But taking THREE children all at once, and only one of them a baby - sjoe! The idea intimidates scares the bejibbies out of me! It makes me scared when I think of just how much of our life would change! It makes me scared of whether or not our finances would stretch to meet the needs of three extra people to care for. It makes me scared to wonder if I would cope. Full stop. My hubby is a total wizz with kids. Me? Not so much. He can handle bunches of kids simultaneously. I get the hippy creapies when there are more than a handful of them around me at once. They make me feel all out of sorts. Which brings me to the scariest realization of all: maybe I'm starting to get over my desire to have children. That must sound truly weird to all of you, especially after a lifetime so many years of pursuing the object of my desire: a baby to call my own. And also especially after the amount of money we flushed down the toilet. Along with the processed fertility treatments. After the buckets of tears shed. And the anger and frustration and the refusal to accept the inevitable. Well, maybe now I am accepting the inevitable. Maybe the idea of a future without children is no longer as scary as it was before. Maybe I'm beginning to accept it. If my hubby and I can still be so in love with eachother today as we were six (almost seven) years ago when we married, after trudging along this rocky road of infertility, then flip! we can walk the rest of our lives together and still be happy! And I don't need to feel guilty about feeling relieved. Shedding the burden of infertility is a difficult thing to do, but I'm determined to do it! There is more to life. And I'm SO going to live it.

Blogger's Back!

Hooraaaaaaaay! Blogger is back. Apparently I am the only one on the planet who couldn't log into their blogger account because bunches of my fave fellow blogaholic posse did indeed blog in my absence. Which means it was probably just my internet dongle-thingy-me-bob that stole my joy and wouldn't allow me to blog, nor to see my emails... but DID allow me to look at FACEBOOK, of all things.

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If you know me, you'll know I absolutely detest facebook. Most annoying program on planet earth, I thought. I get a gazillion invitations to join silly groups on a daily basis, e.g. Zombie, X Me... and others. I mean - just why would I want to join a zombie group? What on earth IS a zombie group anyway? Makes no sense. Just wastes valuable email downloading time (considering we live in the bush and eeeeeeeverything takes longer here in the bush. Even wireless.) when I have to sort through all these silly invitations. But, then again, I have been able to find loads of old friends on Facebook. Which makes Facebook my new best friend. Love finding old tjommies. So, I need to retract my disdain for the program *slash* website. Ugh, and I do so looooove eating humble pie.

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Anyway, I was going to just check in to see if blogger was working today, and then it was. So I didn't really think about what I wanted to say. Hence the very boring post today. Instead of rambing on and boring you all to tears, I'm just going to post some pics of our weekend for you all to see. Robin and I shot down to Durbs for the day yesterday so we could visit our folkses and stretch our new 4x4's legs on the open road. Oh, did I mention we got a new 4x4? (And by NEW 4x4 I mean a second-hand el cheapo buy from a tjommie's tjommie who knows another tjommie, so it was a special deal. With a discount. And all.) But it goes like a boeing, and it actually seems to ENJOY the potholes in our plaasjapie (hillbilly) road. So we were grinning all the way. And looking down on the other cars on the road. Literally. And sneaking peaks at the contents of the vehicles we overtook. (I never knew that the 4x4 would be so much taller than our previous little car! Or that other people transport such rubbish in their cars!) Anyway, here are the pics from yesterday.

HORRIBLE wireless

I tried and I tried and I bashed my head against the wall and I threatened my internet dongle thingy-me-bob and my computer with serious bodily harm through clenched fists and teeth, and then I tried and tried and tried again to get online so I could blog, read mails and lurk around my favourite fellow blogaholics, but alas, tis almost midnight and only now have I found the sweet incense of cyber-space! Thus, this will only be a short one to say howdy and I missed you and I haven't even been able to read any comments and I'm begining to display some blogging withdrawal symptoms already... So adieu out there. If this silly little post even gets to be published at all, what with the horrible connection I have right now. Who knows what's going on with wireless right now?!?!? Except maybe the critters in cyberspace who are spreading viruses and stealing my joy. Hold thumbs with me that my internet life will be better in the morning. Grrrr...

I remember

One of my most favourite people on planet earth, Ms Teagarden of Not So Long Ago has tagged me to do this post. Considering that I have a memory like a goldfish, this might prove to be really challenging for me. Think Writing Examination Stress. But I like Ms Teagarden so much that I am quite willing to torture myself into submission, just for her!

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I remember walking along our farm road as a child and eating clods from the roadside.

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I remember getting two bucks for tuckshop in my first year at school and being too shy to stand in the queue and actually have to SAY SOMETHING in order to buy a sticky iced bun and a coke!

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I remember my sister and I having rotten guava fights in our garden, and getting a good spanking from my gran for spreading the guava seeds.

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I remember being allowed to stay up half an hour later than usual one night per week, so that I could watch MacGuyver to the end.

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I remember my mom sitting beside my bed for hours on end, with me holding onto her thumb until I'd fallen asleep, because I was so afraid of being alone in my room.

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I remember when you could get two chappies for half a cent.

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I remember the day Lady Di and Prince Charles got married, and every shop and school in town closed down so we could watch the event live on teevee.

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I remember sliding down the hill on a flattened cardboard box and thinking that nothing on this earth could ever feel better than that.

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I remember my first kiss. It was from a guy I didn't like. It wasn't with my permission. And I brushed my teeth for about fifteen minutes afterwards thinking I would surely die from disgust!

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I remember wearing a bikini when I was still young and skinny enough to pull it off, and being so shy that people would think I was fat, that I hid under my towel the whole day rather than hopping into the water.

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I remember my first love. You never do forget your first love, do you?

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I remember the last time I took the pill, and thinking to myself what a surprise it would be to tell everyone I was pregnant.

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I remember the day my nephew was born, and how everything on the planet seemed brighter for his presence.

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I remember Jodi-Lee.

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I remember running under the sprinkler in my birthday-suit in summer, with all my cousins in their birthday-suits too, and nobody thinking it was incestuous.

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I remember trying to stay awake all night on Christmas Eve, thinking the morning (and pressies) would come sooner that way.

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I remember my cousins and I forming a trailer train: the first person on a bicycle, the next on a skateboard, and then a few of us on rollerskates and in buggies, all being pulled by the one on the bicycle.

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I also remember many mickey-mouse plasters (band-aids for USA'ns) on grazed kneeschinselbowsnosesbums.

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I remember my first concert. Bon Jovi, baby! With my sister, all my cousins, aunties and my (future) sister-in-law. Screaming until we were hoarse and partying until our feet were blistered. And then playing Bon Jovi cassette tapes in the car all the way back home again (600 kilometers drive). To this day, Living On A Prayer or Bad Medicine or Bed of Roses still gives me the hibby-jibbies. And the foot-tappings and booty-shakings.

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I remember phoning a boy I had a crush on and then hanging up as soon as he said hello, just so I could hear his voice. And then my cousin (Yvette) pressed redial and played "I don't want your money, honey, I want your love" by Transvision Vamp to him and then said her name was Char in Standard 6! I was so embarrassed I avoided him for the rest of the school year.

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I remember my sister and I fighting over who was going to sit in the front seat of the car. Because it was waaaaay cooler to be in the front seat than in the back. Most of the time she won. Being the eldest and all. And therefore being able to clobber me when my mom wasn't looking. Hehe!

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I remember showering in a "communal" bathroom at a campsite when I was about 5 or 5, and seeing a lady with really small droopy boobs in the cubicle beside mine and thinking that if I could do something about it, I would NEVER have small boobs. Little did I know!

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I remember my mom chasing Aurette and I to give us a spanking, and we outran her. So she took off her shoe and threw it at us. Haha!

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I remember the day my brand new motorbike arrivied when I was in High School and thinking I was the bee's knees.

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I remember giving my heart to Jesus. It was the single biggest event of my life. And probably the best decision I ever made.

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And now, I tag:-

• Much Ado about Books
• Welcome to the Cysterhood
• Love and Chaos in Brussels
• The Lambs Tales
• The Heaths in East London
• What's Cookin'...

Butt ugly!

50 Reasons Why NOT To Get a Vitamin B12 Injection:-

1. It's friggin sore!
2. It's friggin sore!
3. It's friggin sore!
4. etc.

Seriously. What? You think I'm exaggerating? Here's the evidence. Oh, and that is a WEEK OLD bruise, just in case you were thinking I'm a real ninny.

Ahem, um, yes, that is my butt. Sorry. Didn't meant to put you off your breakfast. BUT(t), I do feel better. I am back at work, and LOVING it. Hooray for work. And getting out of the house. So maybe that kick-a** Vitamin B12 jobba worked after all. Which makes that bruise on my ugly butt totally worth it.

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My kitty (Cassidy) is back at the vet again. It's been a total rollercoaster ride. One day she's looking better, the next she's not eating again, not moving etc. So we took her in yesterday and she spent the night on the drip again. Poor little pooty tat. Please keep praying for her?

Commenting for Dummies

Good morning students. Good morning, Ms Char! Today, we will be learning how to leave comments on Ms Char's blog. I realize that this will probably be an enormous learning curve for some of you (no names mentioned! hehe!) so, in the interests of clarity and full understanding, I have taken snapshots of my screen to show you EXACTLY how the process of commenting works. Please don't be afraid - it's really not that scary, nor complicated. Follow along with me now.

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Step 1:-

Find the place at the end of my post that looks like this...

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Next step:-

This is a vital step. Please take some extra time to verify that you have indeed familiarized yourself with which thingy to click. If you click the little envelope, you will be sending me a LINK, not a comment.

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Next...

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Finals steps...

(Note: point number 5) if you don't type the gobbledegook, you won't be allowed to leave your comment. This step is simply to verify that you are indeed a person, and not an android looking to hack my oh-so-wonderful blog and send me loads of spam.

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And then... click the orange box that looks like this:-

Now, if you still don't get it right, I really don't know! Now, leave me a comment OR ELSE!!!

Cassidy today

My kitty lives. And breathes. And moves. And purrs again. I am soooo grateful! Really. Our vet rocks. As does God, by the way. I am CERTAIN that if you guys hadn't been praying for my little Cassidy, we'd have had to plant her yesterday. But instead, she's walking again and purring. And eating by herself!!! Which is really the best part of all. Did you know that even an emaciated cat on the brink of death can tear the very skin off of your handsarmslegschestface when she's desperate not to get any, as in ANY, medicine or food into her mouth? You best believe it, folks. You'd be surprised at the depth of the reserves they have to draw from when a syringe is in the vicinity of their oral cavity. My oh my.

Little Cassy, I'm so glad you're getting better. Mommy loves you! (hehe! Just a wee bit of pouring-my-pent-up-love-for-my-unborn-children-onto-my-pets showing through there. Not quite qualifying for The Crazy Cat Lady yet, but getting close huh? Sigh!)

As for this sicko, I got the blood test results back today. All's well that ends well. I'm on the mend! Woot woot! You know how sometimes when things are hectic at work and you're itching for some downtime you sometimes wish to be booked off with a minor ailment? Well, I was like that. And for the record, I am SO OVER wishing I could be booked off with a minor ailment! Lesson learned. Be careful what you wish for.

Cassidy *updated*

I'm sending out an urgent plea for prayer. It may sound frivolous to you, and probably half of you are going to say "Ag, it's just a cat" and you're probably right. But she's my cat, and she's really sick. Little Cassidy has picked up some or other bug and in the last day and a half has already lost more weight than what she'd gained in the two weeks she's been here. She is not eating, not drinking water. She's not walking. Purring. Meowing. Moving. We took her to the vet yesterday when she refused to eat. He gave her three injections, sent home mooti and special food for her, but when we even try to give her 5ml's of food, we only get 2ml's out the syringe, and most of that lands up on you and not in her mouth. She is going from bad to worse. I am sad beyond sad. Spent most of the night holding my cat and bawling my eyes out. Robin has taken her back to the vet now. I am so afraid she's not going to come back home. I've been bargaining with God all night.

Please save my cat, God. Please save my cat.

She's just a little bitty thing, but I love her so much.

I know You CAN save her, but sometimes You choose not to do the things we ask of You. Please, just this once, can You do something for me?

Please rescue this little creature that I love.

I didn't even bargain with God about Jodi-lee. I simply accepted that whatever happened, happened. I trusted. I trusted in God's plan for my happiness. Please will you guys pray with me today? It's just a cat. I know. But really, she's my kitty. And my heart's already breaking for her.

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*Update* It is 12h40 now. Robin eventually took little Jazzy in to the vet as well, because he also started with the squitters. The vet treated both of them, had Cassidy on a drip for a while, and has now sent both kitties home. They are both getting the royal treatment right now: lying on my bed, on a mohair blankie, with a freshly washed and tumbled fluffy blankie on top of them both, and are dozing like contented kittens. Which I hope they are. I keep going into the bedroom and checking on them. Keep those prayers shooting heavenwards, people. Things are looking good!

Funny bunny cat

This was too funny not to share.

Weekend pics

Thought you might want to see some pics of our weekend. (Click on the pic to see more)

Hillbilly weekend 12-14 Oct 07

Christmas Wish List

There's a book I really want to get my hands on. It came highly recommended by Jennifer Saake, who is the author of Hannah's Hope. And seeing as I loved loved loved Hannah's Hope, I think I should try to find it. It's called Rain Dance and it deals with infertility. It might take a while for me to lay my hands on the book, seeing as I am now living in deepest darkest Africa and all. Thought I'd share my desires with you, just in case any of your are compiling your Chrissmiss Pressie Lists. Just in case. You know. Hint hint. Nudge nudge, wink wink!

A day at the docs

When I arrived at the doctor's offices today on his strict doctors orders to return for a check-up, I was fully expecting him to give me the "all clear" thumbs up and tell me I am as fit as a fat fiddle and to return to work. Even though I still feel as rotten as a cracked egg. Which would be a bit of a weird coincidence considering the state of my reproductive um, thingies. But when I walked into the consulting room feeling very much like a droopy daffodil he took one look at me and said, "Woah there, girly" (girly! see why he's my new fave person on planet Earth?!?) "you're looking decidedly worse for wear!" Rat-tap-tap on shin bones, some stethoscope probing, examining my armslegsbackneckandchest for insect bites, breathe-in-deeply's and a gazillion questions later, he stood back, cocked his head and said gravely, "Char, I think we need to do some blood tests and send you for chest x-rays." DING DING DING! (That's the warning bells ringing in my head, by the way... just in case you were wondering.) I would be lying if the first thing that ran through my head wasn't 'Woot woot! Maybe a few extra days off from work!' But alas, yes, I am that lazy sick. Doctor found a few funny blotches on lungs, which he eventually came to the very disappointing conclusion were "only a discomforting case of Bronchitus" ! I mean, have you ever had a more boring diagnosis? And there I was feeling so rotten with the flu... at least he could have said it was something extravagantly exotic... like, say, oxymonocanthus-longirostrus (which, by the way, is actually the scientific name for a marine fish. I know. I'm weird like that...) or even something slightly more dangerous, like, um, pneumonia. Not that I would wish pneumonia on myself or anything. It just sounded so dreadfully disappointing - every second person gets diagnosed with bronchitus. And like I was making up feeling so sick all the time. Let's hope the blood tests show up something more exciting-sounding. But only if there is something to show up, of course. Nothing deadly or anything weird like that. Just something that would warrant me having stayed home for so long already. Otherwise, I could just as well change my name to Hypo. Surname: Chondriac. The other possibility would be that I am actually pregnant. Which, of course, we all know is totally preposterous. I told the doctor so too. He kept saying "are you SURE you're not pregnant?" and I kept saying, "yes sirreeee..." until he said, "Well, how can you be so sure?" Short medical history later, he also assumed the 'Well, I Guess We Can Rule Out Pregnancy Too Then' look. Me thinks changing my name to Mrs H. Chondriac is more realistic. And definitely nicer sounding than Mrs Desperately Wishing For A Baby!

Boring days = bad blogging

It's a horrible fact. But it is indeed a fact. Which means that it's basically true. No, it's actually one hundred percent totally true. Not just basically true. But I digress.

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The horrible part of it is that my husband totally HATES it (and he's not just pretending. He really does HATE it!) and I... well, I think it's funny that he hates it. Any guesses what it is?

He's threatened to hold me down and forcibly remove it. And by forcibly I meant with forceps. (It's not a coincidence that "forcibly" sounds like "forceps" you know.) Which of course just makes me want to keep it even more. This thing that annoys him so much. And it's really only because I find it so funny, that I want to keep it!

OK, so you want to know what it is? It's my wiry toe hairs. Seriously. I know, I know, it's hard to believe that such a sophisticated young lady could have such wiry toe hairs! (snigger snigger!) But alas, tis true. Here is the alarming evidence of my neanderthal origins:-

Um, no, I don't believe in evolution. Promise. Except maybe in the possibility that just maybe, this hairbilly hillbilly thing is starting to catch up with me, after all. Now, if only I can find a way to keep my toe-hairs from getting all tangled up in my sandals. Perhaps a side-parting will do for today? Hmmm... nah. Too many hair-brained schemes going on in this sicko's haid to be taken seriously. Seems I might be a hair's breadth away from walking around in close-toed shoes for the rest of my days. Which would indeed be hair-razing. But it would keep my hubby's disdain for my hairrible horrible toes in check. Especially seeing as they are growing on me...

As for the blog's title... well, never was there a truer saying than that. For today.

She came bearing gifts

Looking back, I don’t know when I stopped believing it. But when my friend popped over yesterday to bring me some “get well soon” gifts and offer me some encouragement I was astounded by how much I really drank in her words and the love that motivated them. She said to me, “Char, yesterday morning God impressed on me that I should come to visit you and tell you that He loves you” and I felt my heart pounding in my ears. Literally, that coldness swept over me from head to toe, followed immediately afterwards by that searing heat that radiates from deep down and finally makes it’s way to your face, like a deeply embarrassing “caught with your hand in the cookie jar” feeling. Like somehow, she could see right to the very heart of me. Her eyes searched my face and I felt laid bare. Like she knew, somehow. She knew that I no longer believed it. And she followed God’s prompting to come and tell me – ME! – that He loves ME and wants me to know it. There was an awkward silence. She was silent. I was silent. But she kept her eyes focused on me. Smiling eyes. But still, those eyes. On me. I hated knowing she knew. I hated the feeling that she was certain I needed to hear this. And that she wasn’t going to leave or leave me alone until I knew it again. Until I was as certain about it as she was. That God really loves me. I wished she would go away and leave me alone. But an overriding compulsion to keep her there with me, to make her say it again, kept my mouth zipped. I watched her and she watched me back. Still, that silence. Then she said it again. She said, “Char, God sent me to tell you this. He loves you. And He lets things happen. He ordains it. He knows what’s happening. And He is still your Father.” He knows this is happening? He knows I’m walking away from Him. Quietly. Unobtrusively, slipping away. Unnoticed? Clearly not! He knows I don’t know how to talk to Him anymore. He knows I don’t feel His love. Or that He evens sees me anymore. He knows I feel overlooked and punished. Abandoned by Him. He knows! “He is still your Father, and He cares more than you can comprehend it.”

My friend could never have understood just how much I needed to hear those words. She came bearing gifts. Beautifully wrapped with organza ribbon and decorated in my favourite autumn colours. But the biggest gift she left with me was the assurance of this God whom I don’t understand. A God who loves even me and wants me to know it. A God who came, bearing gifts. The gift of salvation. Of an eternity with Him. And mostly, the gift of His love. Undeserved. Unwarranted. Misunderstood. But still. Love. For even me.

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P.S. I've been booked off until Friday. This flu has me in it's clutches!