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!

Kitties & Sickies

I am sick at home with the flu. Again. I've been out of action since Saturday morning. I finally set aside my disdain for all of the medical fraternity on Monday morning (only at my boss's threats to drag me to the doc, if it meant he had to toss me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and carry me there kicking and screaming, which would have been mighty fun to watch since the advent of my weigtier middle, et cetera insistance) and went to get some meds. And a jobba* on the toeshie too. My boss's son's friend (only a little guy about pre-teen aged) just died from this flu on the weekend. Another middle-aged man in town (named Frenchie) also died on the weekend, also from this flu, so my boss aint taking any chances. Now, who's to say that taking one on the butt is so bad? I (almost) didn't even feel that one. Lucky for the nurse whom I'd accused just seconds before that I'd heard about her penchant for using butts as dartboards me. As you all know, I just luuuuurve getting needles stuck into me. Anyway, I must say though, that having this flu bug has given me lots of bonding time with my kitties. They love me. I just know it. They come running whenever I call them, they purr on me and smother me with loves and licks and adoring stares. Here's a pic of sicko me, holed up under my fave blankie in bed, chatting to my sister on my cell, book balanced in my lap and my kitties loving on me. All that was missing was a cappuccino. Otherwise? Pure bliss, baby. Sicko and all.

Above: Cassy on my shoulder and Jazzy on my book

Above: Little Jazzy

Above: Little Cassidy

Little Sleeping Beauty! (Jazzy)

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*jobba = South African for injection, pronounced like "jaw" + "bu"

Hello Kitty

What could possibly be better than a kitty snuggling into your neck and purring all night? TWO kitties snuggling into your neck and purring all night. I just love our new little family members! meet Jazzy (the boy) and Cassidy (our little girl).

Now tell me those aren't the most precious little creatures you've ever seen? They are so happy here too. They purr every time you touch them and cuddle right up as close as they can get to you. Too cute. Oh and just in case you were wondering - no these aren't Maine Coon kittens. We're getting our Maine Coon in December (they only give the kittens away at age 12 weeks...) so it's the Waiting Game for the catzilla.

(s)Cat-man-do!

I had written a nice long post about how miserable I am... blah blah blah... but I have something else to be so excited about today! No, I'm not preggie - if I was I wouldn't be miserable. Hello. Aaaaanyway, good news is: today we're getting kittens! Two of them!!! Woot woot! Way too exciting to be miserable today. Watch this space. I'll be posting pics as soon as they aren't scared of me anymore! Yippeee!

The Stirrup Queen...

I just joined a really nifty webring, for infertility. (Thanks Mel!) I'll add the link to my sidebar soon, under the Stirrup Queen's Completely Anal List of Blogs That Proves That She Really Missed Her Calling as a Personal Organizer or something like that! It's a really great resource site for anybody looking for anything related to anything related to anything related to fertility or infertility or surrogacy or adoption et cetera. Go and have a look! There are also bunches of other bloggers listed there who have so been there, done that. Awesome if you're feeling remotely lonely in your family-making-quest.

A promise of better things

This song gives me chills. It makes me feel very small. And reminds me that we can't even begin to imagine what God has in store for us. I can't wait.

And, below, the same song with a different video:-

Scaredy Cat

I've been scarce. For a myriad of reasons... But mainly because I'm a total scaredy cat! Really. My sister will testify to it, happily, if you gave her half a chance. I'm not actually one of those people who cower in a corner during a massive storm, but man, there sure is a first time for everything. That's for sure. Last night we had one of those storms that leaves you sitting in a corner shivering. And praying to the dear Lord for mercy. And I mean that literally. One minute I was merrily sitting on my couch, laptop on my (fat) lap, scoffing rusks and drinking milo, logging on so I could blog - the next minute there was one ENORMOUS thundering rumble and a lightning strike that made everything turn luminous purple... followed by pitch darkness and only the humm humm of my still-loading-up laptop. Well, needless to say, I almost left a few stripes in my brooks. And can you believe my bad luck - Robin was still at the Bush Camp attending to a bunch of hooligans who arrived yesterday for a camp. (More about that later...) so it was just me and my dawg. And both of us were trying our best to climb onto the other's eyelashes for comfort.

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You know how you know you have candles, matches, torches etc. somewhere in the house? Well, so did I. I just didn't know where in the friggin house they were. Lucky for me, my nifty cellphone doubles as a torch in crises. Only thing is, the light from a cellphone makes things look really creepy. And we have lots of nooks and crannies in our house. Where monsters lurk in the dark, and all of that. Ha! I hear you scoffing! Monsters??? Well, you call them rats, I call them monsters. And they also get creeped out by cellphone lights wandering around the house in the dark. Believe me. I heard them scuttling about. I eventually gave up the fight to remain brave, went and cowered in a corner of my bedroom, with my back to the wall, my dawg at my side, and phoned my hubby to instruct him to return home so forth. I call him Batman now. Swooping into danger in the darkness of night to rescue a damsel in distress. And all of that.

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So, if I'm scarcer for the next while, it's really all about the weather. Have so much on my mind, but too scared to log on while it's storming. Would hate to have my nifty new wireless thingy struck by lightning, after I waited so long for it to arrive. Oh boy, just the thought of it gives me the shudders. Which just serves to reinforce the fact that I'm indeed a scaredy cat.

Weighty Matters

I was doing quite well since my decision to diet, actually, until I arrived at work this morning and found that the menu for breakfast was that all-american-favourite (and this South African's too!): crumpets! Crumpets, people! Oh, wait, don't you Americano's call it flap-jacks? Or pancakes? Not sure, but I remember we ate it for breakfast when we were holidaying there in 2004. Now you all know that I have oh-so-much self-discipline. Snigger snigger! So, obviously I walked right on by without giving the crumpets so much as a passing glance...

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Yeah right. I mean, LOOK at them!

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Blasted weakling that I am, I had three. Then went looking for more. Thank goodness for me, the scoffers kids attending the Bush Camp were hungrier than I was, and had finished them off while I was drizzling mine with honey golden syrup.

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Why does the best food have to be the most fatteningestest? Like, say, for example, lasagne. Or chocolate. Or coffee. Now, I still vehemently deny that coffee is fattening, but the proof is in the pudding. So to speak.

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I'm really struggling to diet. Maybe it's extra hard because I never had to diet before fertility treatments. And middle age. Oh, and crumpets. So, in the interest of dodging calories, I've compiled a NOT To Do While I'm Dieting List:-

1. Walk past crumpets.
2. Meander through bakeries.
3. Watch late-night movies while the kitchen is unlocked.
4. Skip breakfast
5. Find out somebody is going into town and send money with them for coffee. And muffins.
6. Forget to get my exercise video put onto dvd.
7. Twice.
8. By accident.
9. Steal the Feta out of the salad (I'm so NOT a feta girl, but hey, cheese is cheese, after all).
10. Listen to Mika's "Big Girl, You are Beautiful" song. OK, maybe just one last time. For good riddance, and all of that.

Way to make my day!

Two of our best friends arrived unexpectedly at the Bush Camp today to surprise Robin and I with a visit! Can you believe we are so blessed to have TWO surprise visits within a few days of eachother? Awesome. Christiaan and Janelé, it was awesome seeing you again! Thanks for our stunning surprise visit! They took a 500km detour on their journey home to Bloemfontein, just to pop in and say hello! If only Heaven would arrive sooner - where there'll be no more goodbyes...

You know I'm excited when almost every sentence has an exclamation mark at the end of it! haha!

It's Raining Men Again!

There I was so disappointed it was raining on my first wash-day in months, and yet it turns out we actually broke The Winter Drought by hooking up our washing machine! The farmers are very excited. You can see I'm not quite into this bush-living-thing yet. Otherwise I'd have been doing the fandango when it rained and not after I'd put my first load into the washing machine. Silly City Slicker Me.

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The rain also gave us an opportunity to test our roof for leaks. If only I'd known that one of our bedrooms was a swimming pool in disguise. Tssk tssk! What do I care that my brand new bed linen and mats were drenched with filthy roof water? - at least I have my nifty LG Automatic Top Loading Washing Machine to remedy the matter afterwards. If only it would stop raining, that is.