Cinderell... Uh, Jesse!

Robin taught Jesse and her friends how to draw with charcoal, on the weekend. Apparently Jesse has a great memory AND thinks she's Cleopatra cos she's using it for makeup now too!
Sent via my BlackBerry from Vodacom - let your email find you!

Hello Horsie

There are a few wildish horses on the farm. Occasionally they wander right up to the edge of our garden and greet us while we're playing outside. They have a little filly who seemed to be so curious about Jesse - and of course the feelings were mutual!

Food IS LEKKER after all!

We've been trying to convince Jess that food is really lekker, for about the past fifty-two years six months.  Give or take a few days' strike in between to recoup.  It has been a battle of epic proportions, folks.  

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Never underestimate the power of an eleven-month-old.  Or a five-month-old.  Because that's about when we started trying to feed the iron-jawed monster.  The girl has staying power, I'll give her that much.  

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I just could NOT understand why she just REFUSED to eat.  I mean - hello!  Food!  Show me a hillbilly who can say no to some good home-cooked chow and I'll show you a dinosaur egg.  

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I know!  Exactly.

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And then, about a month ago we were calmly sitting in the "parents with babies" isle at church (the seats nearest the escape door) so that if she gets a bit niggledy we can just pop out the back door without, disrupting the whole service.  So, one of our friends' children (who shall remain anonymous, but for the sake of this post, let's call him Coenie) came and sat at the back with us.  With that a handful of other kids followed him and we had a bit of a party at the back.  Coenie's mom always packs him a "snack pack" for church which always includes either sliced biltong*, or dry wors*.  That particular weekend it was dried wors.  So, he shared with all the kids, handing each one about half a stick of dry wors.  And he gave Robin a piece too.  (Robin being a kid too, you know.)  Jess was sitting on the floor with all of them.  She looks at the dry wors, looks at Coenie, looks at each kid in the circle, notices that she's the ONLY one (besides her mom, but since when do moms count?) that doesn't have a stick of wors.  No problem for her - she scoots over to Coenie's tupperware and helps herself to not one, but TWO sticks of wors!!!  And so the little vegan became a carnivor in the space of one sermon!  haha.  Heretofore she had only ever experienced SOYA, nogal.  Needless to say, she LOVES dry wors.  So much so that we've had to buy her her own private stash!!!   This week has seen her make HUGE progress in the eating department. It's still sporadic, with the occasional temper tantrum (Lord have mercy!) and hissy fit at the sight of a spoon, but we give her sliced apple, whole banana, marie bisuits, boiled egg, DRY WORS!, slices of cheese and pretty much anything that she can feed herself.  If it comes on a spoon, not interested.  If she can snatch it out of your hand, WINNER!  

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Just the other day I was sitting on my father-in-law's lazyboy in their lounge with Jess on my lap.  I absentmindedly opened a marshmallow easter egg and took a nibble of it.  Next minute, boy oh boy, Jess snatched it RIGHT OUT OF MY HANDS and stuffed it into her mouth!  Needless to say, I snatched it right back (because I'm grown-up that way!), ran into the kitchen, split a banana and pretended to be eating that.  She quickly helped herself to "my" banana and appeared quite happy for the swap.  hehe.  

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My new nickname is Speedy Conzales.

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And so, the battle to feed the banana booger continues.  I'm pleased to report, though, that as long as she can feed herself now, she will pretty much try it.  Which I would call a victory.  And as long as I don't need to keep eating Jess's leftovers, it might be a slim victory too!

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*biltong = South African for something like beef jerkey, which can be made from almost any meat

*dry wors = dried out, raw, salty sausage.  Also a South African favourite

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Jess earns her Hillbilly Badge...

...just call her Dirty Scoundrel!

P.S.  Sorry been so scarce.  I'm enjoying having my mom here SOOO much that I haven't even had two minutes to scratch my bum  nose, leave alone think about blogging!  Gosh, I've really been slack, haven't I?

You know you're a hillbilly when...

... you have to shave your legs because you're going to the doctor.

Correction. You know you're a hillbilly when you wouldn't really shave if you knew he wouldn't have to actually look at your legs.

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I'm just saying.
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But, this time round, I was actually going to Doc because I suspected I had broken my foot in my haste to reach the bathroom. Because I always leave it to the last minute, then spend the last few steps to the ladies room doing a hoppity skippity doo-daa dance.

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This particular trip to the bathroom was more of a trip than a skip.

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And ended with the sound of crunching bones and much wailing.

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Never let it be said that I'm a hyperchondriac, people. I went three and a half weeks, hobbling around the house with my right foot bandaged and smelling of Wicks Bubblegum, mumbling to myself on account of a few handfulls of painkillers daily. And then I happened to connect with a hole in the driveway on the same day I stopped wearing my bandage.

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Which is never good if you're hoping to hit the malls.
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Only then did I decide it was time to see Doc.

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Off I dash to the bathroom to quickly shave my legs and de-grit my toenails. You know. So that the doc won't actually know I'm a hillbilly. Robin shouts a question or two through the bathroom door while I'm shaving that tricky bit around my ankle, and I kinda lose track of where I'm at. Rinse rinse. Rub some lotion into the dry-shaved leg, so I won't look like a CROCODILE in addition to being a hillbilly. And off we go.

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When we arrived at the doc's and I told him my sad tale of toe woe, he immediately ordered me up onto the bed to inspect my foot. But, alas, doc didn't only want to see my injured foot... He rolled up BOTH denims to around my knees and compared the two.

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Between his surprise at the difference between a very red, itchy, dry-shaved-and-therefore-rashy looking leg and a very white very hairy leg and his attempt to conceal his laughter, it was kind of hard to make out his diagnosis. Here and there I heard the words "Xray" and "immediately" and "painkillers". He didn't have to tell me twice. We were in the radiology department before he could say Pietpompies!

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Lessons I learnt from the experience:-

1. Never shave only ONE leg.
2. But if you are forced into shaving only one, then don't DRY shave the leg.
3. And definitely don't put cream onto the leg immediately afterwards, unless red, itchy and spotty is the look you're going for.
4. Never get excited at the Xray technician's diagnosis of "oh, there was definitely a crack there a few weeks ago, but I can see it's healed a bit already" and get all huffity puffity and say under your breath loudly enough to ensure hubby hears it that "I KNEW IT! and I told you so! but you all think I'm always exaggerating!"... until the REAL doctor gets a look at the xrays and tells you "there was never a crack there in the first place and you shouldn't listen to a TECHNICIAN's diagnosis seeing as he isn't a real doctor and all." Unless you enjoy lunching on Humble Pie. For a few days. While still nursing a bruised ego foot.

Backfire!

It would seem that Jo (of www.benades.blogspot.com - sorry, my Mr Linky's not working) was a prophet of doom with her comment on my post "Game On!" Her words were barely cold when her warning came true. My popularity with pudding pie totally backfired on me.

See, yesterday morning my gal refused to go down for her early morning nap, which is when I usually do my unHillbillylike things, like have worship, shower, wash hair, brush teeth and make up my bed. And if time allows, I also quickly grab a few bites to eat.

Well, not so yesterday morning. Little sugar booger decided napping was for the birds and refused to sleep. Okie dokie. The girl has a will of her own. Lord have mercy! Those teen years are rapidly approaching.

Anyhoo... I prop the gal up in her pram, with a few good toys strewn on her lap for good measure, park the pram in our bathroom en-suite facing the shower, then hop into the shower myself and proceed to belt out my rendition of Kelly Clarkson's "Since You've Been Gone" clean the earwax from my ears. With a little jig or two on the side. You know, to get the blood moving, and all of that.

Jess happily sat in her pram with her toys, watching Mommy act like a dork. Until it was time for me to hop out the shower.

Then all h*ll broke loose. The gal took one look at this monstrosity of a hot pink monster with a towel wrapped around it's head, and let out a screech that threatened to shatter the very walls of our house.

I learnt one big lesson from the experience too: never underestimate the staying power of a child in distress. They can scream way longer than you can block your ears. I'm just saying.

Sugar Booger only stopped screeching once I'd unwrapped the towel from my head AND put my Hillbilly glasses on.

What can I say? The girl has style.

Nervous tic(k)

Did you ever read the email that did the rounds a year or more ago, about the woman who attempted to help her son's lizard (maybe a gecko?) give birth, but unbeknown to her, gecko's don't give birth to live young and she was actually just yanking it's, uh, ahem, chain?

(Yeah, it's all downhill from here. Don't say I didn't warn you.)

Wellll, monkey see, monkey do. And yeah, you guessed it, I'm the monkey. Minus the gecko. But add one big fat city slicker cat that we adopted from my sister when they moved to New Zealand last month. But that's a whole other story, and one that I'll only be telling when it no longer reduces me to crocodile tears.

Anyhoo... Where was I? Oh yes.

It won't be news to y'all that I'm still pretty much a city slicker myself, so I don't do bugs too easily. Warra warra fish paste, long story short, it's the end of a long day and I'm doing the Hillbilly Couch Potato Thing this evening after the rest of the Hillbilly Household have hit the hay, when Big Fat City Slicker Cat hops up onto the couch next to me for a snuggle and a nibble of my KFC sprinkle pops, when SHOCK! HORROR! What do I spy dangling from her torso but a big fat spongy tick! And where was Hubby when I needed him, but already throwing some ZZzzz's around the room! Well, there aint no way I'm going to bed tonight wondering if Angel (the big fat city slicker cat) is hoping to follow me to bed with that grotesque parasite dangling from her... So off I run to the trusty bathroom cabinet to grab my tweezer and return to detick fatcat. Only, by the time I've summoned up my courage and swallowed the bile collecting in my mouth, placed the tweezer tips firmly on the tick and yanked... It's only then that I see it is more firmly attached than a tick... It is in fact a fat cat nipple! And I will never be grabbing anything ever again with a tweezer. I am so grossed out that I can't sleep. Ew. Poor cat. The next time she sees a tweezer coming it will be enough to give her a nervous tic.

Update on the Dead and Dying

The fact that I'm writing you a post right now should reassure you that I am not, as previously suspected, dead or dying. Although there were a few moments in the last few days when I would have happily walked towards the light.

Our house has been a petri-dish of germs, y'all. The entire Hillbilly Household succumbed to this ghastly virus. Or bacteria. Or whatever it was. Because, lemme tell you something... Hillbilly Wisdom this... When one of The Parents gets sick (and by The Parents, I actually mean The Mother, i.e. ME!), seek held fast! Because you can bet your bottom that within days, the entire household falls apart. Snotty tissues litter every available surface area. Dirty dishes become fertile breeding ground for the infestation of all manner of instects.

Not fun.

And I am stiiiilllll waiting for our internet installation. So right now I'm sitting in an internet café in Dunhillbillydee. Except this internet café has no coffee. Café schmafé. So, this will probably be a short post. Because right now, all that's keeping my eyelids upright is a leftover caffeine kick from an hour or so ago. Which is fast being depleted.

So this is just a quick checkin. Thanks for all the sooper-dooper advice guys. Pity I never had internet to see your comments until just now, because it's been a week of orange and purple splatter...

Anyhoo. Let me not complain. Just saying yowdy and sending smooches until next time.
I miss you already.

Pics, pics and more pics

A few pics before I return the modem to my hubby at the office... (You've got to take advantage while the going is good, you know...)

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I couldn't resist this one of little Jesse-Lee (and her super hot dad) in her spiffy boots for church this past weekend! Those boots were made for walking. And that's just what they'll do. Sorry, apparently I get corny when I haven't had enough sleep.

And last night Robin's parents visited with us for the night. It was SO nice having them here with us. And I couldn't resist a photo op with them and Jesse-Lee at the breakfast table this morning...

As for these two pics, well, just some more proof that my baby schnooki pooki is really smiling every day. Winds schminds, I say. And like I said before, if it is winds that are making her happy, I'm going to have my hands full in future. Let's just say she already fits right into her hillbilly family.

Funny bunny

Hooray, my blogger's up and running again! I missed you guys! c",) I was having nightmares of my entire blog being corrupted and never finding all of you again. Hooray, tis not so.
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Had to share a funny story with you. My parents surprised Robin and I with a visit this past weekend, and they brought My Nephew Who I Love To Bits with them. He's a hoot. Four years old, going on twenty-seven, and absolutely LOVES being on the farm with us.

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Anyhoo, yesterday morning I took my mom and Ethan into town so I could buy my mom her birthday present (it's her birthday on Thursday, for those of you who know her). The road into town is quite bumpy, but there's one patch that is particularly fierce. Ethan was standing on the back seat of the 4x4, looking out the rear window (I don't have a car seat for kiddies nor a seatbelt that doesn't choke him to near-death, unfortunately, so we spend most of the journey saying, "Ethan - please sit down, boy!" and then threatening him with all manner of terrible torture. His worst one (and therefore our most effective threat) is not being allowed to play with the other kids on the farm when we get home. As we were nearing this very bad patch of road I said-for-the-thousandth-time "Ethan, sit down, boy!" But by the time he reacted he were on top of the rumbles and potholes and all of us practically had the lice shaken off of us. I said to Ethan, "Careful, Ethan - it's very bumpy here." To which he replied "I know, my bum wants to fall off!"

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Your bum and my boobs both!

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Oh did we laugh.

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And then, we were in town, in a shop called Clicks (a haberdashery store that sells almost anything, from kettles to nail varnish), which just happens to be one of my fave stores. My mom, Ethan and I were arbing up and down the aisles when Ethan spotted an indian family, all clothed in their traditional hijabs. I should have known he would say something out of place when he sidled up to the lady and peered up at her. Speaking loudly enough that everyone in aisles 3 to 18 could hear, he said "Granny, why is this lady dressed so funny? She looks just like a crook!"

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Needless to say, this aunty disappeared faster than The Road Runner.

Hillbilly Baxter

Remember this cute pic I posted a while ago? Notice how fluffy and clean he is? Err, yes, I know he's gorgeous, but I'm actually referring to Baxter, the corgy. Snigger snigger!

Mmmm... Clearly, he enjoys playing in the garden.

Now look how dirty he is!

Even the corgies are turning into Hillbillies. It comes with the territory and nobody is immune. I'm not entirely sure it isn't catching over cyber-space. Let this be your warning then.

Achtung Baby! Hillbillies lurking.

Wordless Wednesday

I really wasn't ever planning on joining the Wordless Wednesday thingy... but I'm so busy today it's hard to get a word in edgeways. Sorry guys. Gotta dash. In the meantime, hope you enjoyed a few pics of our weekend!

From hillbillies to city slickers in a day!

This afternoon Robin and I are travelling to Johannesburg for a friend’s wedding. We are SO excited! (1) We get to see some of our friends again. We haven’t seen them in aaaages. It’s going to be awesome to spend time with them again. (2) We get to go to MALLS again! Yeah baby! Retail therapy. Dundee’s mall consists of maybe twelve shops. If you count the hairdresser and the grocer’s. I need to go and sit in a coffee shop that actually smells of coffee, again. I need to spend at least an hour in a book store, flipping through the pages of at least 52 novels. (2) We might get to go to the movies. Can you believe Dundee does not have a movie theatre? I know! Like, what’s up with that? I want to see the new Bourne movie, Bourne Ultimatum. (3) I get to have a bath at my friend’s house. Oooohhhh. Bath oil. Candles. Lazing in the steaming water. Bliss! Hopping around in our excuse-of-a-shower just doesn’t count. (4) Did I mention that we get to go to malls? This little chipped-toothed-Hillbilly is going to have a FIELD DAY! Hope you guys have as much fun as we do, this weekend! I’ll post pics on Monday. Toodleloo!