I like them big. I like them chunky.

Alternate title:  A Pain in The A**

A week ago, we had a potjie with some church friends.  [A potjie (pronounced "poykee") is a casserole cooked in an enormous three-legged pot over a fire.  But we call the entire event, from building the fire, to eating and socializing together, a potjie]  Great fun!  Food + friends = fun.  

On our return home, it started raining, so when I walked down the stairs from the garage towards our back door, my boats crocs rapidly morphed from foot protective gear to weapons of mass destruction and sent me and my liberally indulged appetite crashing down the flight of steps, while still holding two big pyrex dishes in my hands.

It wasn't pretty, y'all.  And neither is the junk in my trunk.

Lest you think this image has been tampered with, nay, that is an actual photo taken with my Blackberry. And yes, those are The Bruises.

Never one to miss an opportunity for sympathy, as soon as the bruise was visible, I sent pictures of it to my friends. Who, in the spirit of our dear friendship, immediately seized the opportunity to comment on the enormity, not of The Bruise, but of the roundness of my rump.  "Dang, girl - look at the SIZE of that thing! (The butt, not the bruise.)"  One even quoted one of my most favourite scenes from Madagascar II to me, where Motomoto approaches Gloria and introduces himself.  "Who's your friend? Or is that your butt?" (bad youtube version of the scene here.)

Luckily I have a thick skin.
It's purple.
But who am I to complain?

In the meantime, I am garnering sympathy wherever I can.
With my blue butt and the picture thereof in tow.

A fresh new look for February

I've really been jealous of my friend Marie-Jeanne who is currently galavanting around my favourite city on the planet, New York City wanting to go on holiday lately. But being the broke Hillbillies that we are, a change will have to do. They tell me a change is as good as a holiday. So, here's to fabulous changes and a fresh new look in February.

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Seriously, I might love making changes to my blog, but this simply doesn't come close to a holiday. Sigh.

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What I wouldn't give for a bank account overflowing with dosh, and a private jet.

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Anybody want to buy my kidney? (Very overworked, caffeine-laden kidney, but still in good working order. A little wear and tear, but still worth a couple bob.)

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All offers welcome. Starting bid: 52 bucks.

And I thought a chatty fellow passenger would be bad...

I landed up seated beside a very nice man. But he had arm hairs that would shame even the hairiest tarantula. And he hogged the armrests. And then proceded to fall asleep. And then his arms would sag slowly over the edges of the armrests and his godzilla hairs would rub against my arms. For two whole hours. And I couldn't escape because I was already pressed up against the side of the plane in an attempt to avoid said godzilla hairs.
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I am traumatised for life.

Dear kind sir who sat beside me hogging the armrests for two whole hours. Please ensure you do something about your wayward armhairs before boarding the plane next time. For the sanity of your fellow passengers. And for your own safety. Not that I'm threatening you or anything. No siree bob. But, let it be known that while the security might well confiscate a lovely razor or a pair of scissors, they most likely will not confiscate a nice jar of ready-to-use wax. I know, because I checked. And that's about all that I have to say about that.

The last of 2009

I've been trying to think of something profound to blog about for my very last post for 2009. And I just can't seem to think of anything worth being profound about... Which just goes to show that I am indeed shallow on holiday. So I'll just say "Thank Heavens that 2009 is almost over!"
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Most everyone has been saying the same thing all day today, funny enough. Everyone has had a rough year, apparently. So, the general consensus, locally, is that Twenty Ten is going to be totally-otally phenomenally waaaaaayyyy better than two thou and nine. Has to be for South Africans. What with the Fifa World Cup and all.
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I, for one, am not a big fan of soccer, but I'm all for a good party. And lots of happy vibey people sing-songing in the streets, et cetera.
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Which is funny, considering that we are usually the only people we know that don't actually go anywhere or do anything for New Years Eve.
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(Insert sound of crickets chirping.)
(Do crickets chirp?)
(Mmm... suddenly not too certain about that...)
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Anyhoo. I digress.
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In true Hillbilly Form, we have spent the day partying in anticipation of a grand night. At home. Doing nothing.
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And that's exactly the way I like it. I might be a night owl, but I like to spend my night perched at the computer lurking around my fave people's blogs, and facebooking until the cows come home. In peace and quiet. While Jesse sleeps. And then, as the grando finalé-o to my night at home, I watch either Dinner For One or a repeat of The Royal Variety Show. So that I can ogle the Queen and her gorgeous grandson.
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But, I always, always, stay up until 12:00. Otherwise it just wouldn't be New Years.
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And that, my dear bloggity friends, is my oh-so-not profound conclusion to an oh-so-exciting year. May Twenty Ten be an awesome one for you and yours. And me and mine.

See you in the New Year!

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.

Idols

OK, so I removed yesterday's post. Sorry guys. But I wasn't supposed to know what I know and I know that it might make matters murky, so I've removed it. (If any of you didn't see it, but are dying to know what it said, leave a comment with your EMAIL address and I'll gladly mail it to you...)
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In the meantime, I've been watching Idols. Oh my sweet nerves man! How amazing is David Archuleto? I think I might invite him over for a visit at the hillbilly dump. Hehe! So we are a bit behind the USA version... so the most recent show for us was the one where David sings John Lenon's Imagine. Oh my word!!! Need I say more? My pvr (South African version of a teevo) is working overtime! I wonder if it's possible to corrupt a file on the pvr from watching it too often? Mmmm... So, I've taken precautionary measures, ya'll. I have the Youtube version of it favourited! (But can I just go ahead and say it? Some of the people commenting on his Youtube flick are just plain doofus's. There, I said it. If you don't like the song, what are you doing sitting there listening to it and commenting on it? Mmmm? Don't tell anyone I didn't actually have the courage to leave a contradictory comment there, but anyway, that's what this blog's for.) You go, Davo. If I could vote from South Africa, I so would. I hope you win!
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And now... turn up the volume, folks and ready the hairs on your teeth and arms and back of your neck for some raising. Here it is. My new fave man on the planet:-

Oh so (yawn) tired...

I am feeling totally exhausted after this week. I don't even really feel like blogging. So, you must know then. I think all of the preparations and the nervousness about the meeting and trying to get everything together, etc. it's all been a bit much. Right now all I want is some peace and quiet and just a little bit of solitude. And maybe two or three stacks of pancakes with caramel and banana. Because being tired is just as good an excuse as any for some yummy comfort food.
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So it's weekend and I'm totally looking forward to having nothing to do. Nothing required of me. Just some peace and quiet. I hope you guys have a wonderful weekend. I'll see you in the new week then. Smooches.

Crazy Sexy and Things That Bite At Night

Well, what a good, solid navel-gazing session that was on Friday. Let's hope we don't go there for a long time again. (I just know you're all breathing huge sighs of relief right now - YAY! no more infertility issues for a while! It just might be safe to return to Char's blog!) I so hear you. And I agree. But I must tell you, I feel SO MUCH better for having vented a bit. And thanks for all the awesome comments you left me. I only read them a little while ago - I didn't trust myself to check my emails or my blog for a few days.

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But what a swift kick up my derrière I got when I watched Oprah on the weekend and realized what an enormous ungrateful sop I am really... I usually record all of the shows during the week, then sit down at some stage and do some catching up while the dirty dishes attract flies and cockroaches stacked in the kitchen sink. So I snuggled into my favourite couch with a cuppa and pressed play on my nifty pvr (I think some of you called that teevo?). The show was called Dr Oz: A Special Report on Death. I know - just makes you wanna go out and buy a copy of the show, huh? But seriously - if I watched that show once this weekend, I watched it fifty-two times. Dr Oz interviewed a lady named Kris Carr and I was bowled away by her exuberance and total passion for life. And get this - she is diagnosed with stage four cancer. Since she was diagnosed, she has created the documentary Crazy Sexy Cancer for TLC. And then went on to write the book Crazy Sexy Cancer Tips. What an AMAZING woman! I just couldn't get past something that she said when Dr Oz interviewed her for Oprah...

"I think that life is just too sweet to be bitter," she says. "Once I was able to change my focus, desperation led to inspiration. Once I was able to do that, I looked around me. I made so many changes and I thought, 'This is an awesome life. I mean, honestly, I don't think anybody has a better life than me. When people ask me 'How do you live your life with the knowledge of cancer?' I say 'I might not ever be able to get rid of it, but I can't let that ruin my life.'"

Hello. Wow. What a paradigm shift. The Oprah website says:-

Kris says the way she has reacted to her cancer is the way everyone should evaluate their lives. "I think just go for it. Life is a terminal condition. We're all going to die," she says. "Cancer patients might have more information, but we all, in some ways, wait for that great permission to live."

I am so going to buy her book. I could use some of her enthusiasm! And would you know it - she blogs! Could she get more perfect? I wonder if she'd like to be my new best friend for ever?

Seriously. I mean - she has CANCER! I'm not even dying and I was moping about so much that I wouldn't have objected if I'd known my funeral was imminent. I have to stop moping. There is so much to LIVE for. Life is worth living. Not just existing.

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I choose to be a tigger, not an eeyore. (Quote: Randy Pausch, the other interviewee on that show that day. Click on the link to watch the awesome talk he gave.)

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Before I go and try to make friends with Kris leave a comment on Kris's blog, I just have to tell you about my going-to-bed incident last night. I did my usual pre-bedtime routine (I'm a creature of habit, y'all) then as I was pulling apart my bed (continental cushions, spare pillows, quilt, etc.) I heard the strangest crackling sound. It sounded like static electricity. Mmmm... wonder what could be making that sound? Continued pulling pillows off the bed. Then, as I was removing my extra pillows I heard the sound again. And guess what it was? An ENORMOUS spider web from my pillow to the bedside table. Oh my word! And, where there be spider webs, there be... yip: Those Icky Leggy Things That Bite At Night. And leave enormous welts all over your body. More than once. Out came the trusty DOOM spray, and I proceeded to fumigate everything. Which apparently causes said Icky Leggy Things That Bite At Night to come out of their hiding places. But not die.

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I had to photograph it, because you wouldn't have believed me if I had to tell you how big this thing was. Behold the Bugg(er).

And you wonder why I have trouble sleeping! Grrr... Gives me the hippy creapies just thinking about it!

Porcu-pology

I have to apologize. Apparently I was grossly mistaken. Or, more accurately, the "ignorant idiotic farmer" was mistaken. haha! I got an sms (I think some of you call that text message) from one of my best friends (Joey) last night, who is an AVID animal lover. And I MEAN animal lover. As in - she practically has a second home on the Kruger National Park's front doorstep and spends as much time as possible driving around the park looking for animals. And when she can't be there, she's watching dvd's at home about things like... oh, I don't know... ants. And elephants. And anything else that might possibly be alive somewhere in a game farm somewhere. In other words, she knows her stuff.

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So the sms reads as follows:-

Just read your blog. So glad that you are ok after the scare with the porcupine BUT HORRIFIED to hear you say that porcupines are a pest!! There is critical concern over porcupine numbers! That is why caracals and wilddogs are endangered - because of ignorant idiotic farmers.

Now, in order to understand why this sms was totally hilarious to me, you have to know that Joey and I have a LONGstanding joke about what a bunny hugger she is compared to me. She thinks spending a year in the bush with nothing but binoculars would be heaven on earth. And me? Pure torture. Seriously. I love animals. I really do. From a distance. Unless it's a cat. Then I love it up close too. But please don't leave me in the bush somewhere to do birdwatching. Or driving up and down looking for tortoises. Or elephants. And can somebody please explain to me how something THAT enormous can hide away so easily?

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So anyway, I just had to let you know that you better not dash off into the bush on a porcupine safari anytime soon. There are not hundreds of them lurking behind every blade of grass anymore.

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Sad but true.

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And now I will refrain from talking about That Spiky Thing again.

Because it's still a bit of a prickly subject. c",)

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Oh and about the zebras. Yes, we see zebra pretty much every day here. But only because our neighbour has a herd of them on his farm. They don't roam around the countryside. Unfortunately. But we've become so used to seeing them that we hardly bat an eyelash in their direction. Robin calls them donkeys in pyjamas!

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One last word about That Spiky Thing... This is his cousin, the humble hedgehog:-

(One of my favourite ads on our tee vee here in South Africa.)

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Porcu-pickup

It was when we were on our way home from town last night, after dinner together with friends at The Spur. It was already dark. Travelling a good 100km's per hour (approx 62 miles per hour) on the open farm road. Suddenly an enormous (and I mean enormous!) porcupine ran out in front of the bakkie*. Robin did his best to avoid it. But apparently porcupines always chase the light and actually made an about turn in it's tracks and chased after us. Robin jammed on the brakes, and the vehicle skidded off the side of the road, hitting the porcupine in the process.

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This morning Robin and I climbed into the bakkie to go and see if the porcupine was still there. I took some pics.

This is the road out to our farm:-

(That's Robin standing on the side of the road,

and see the skidmarks on the road where we

went careening off the road)

Incidentally, South Africans drive on the LEFT side of the road, so we had already

hopped lanes to get out of the porcupine's way, before we started skidding.

Close-up of the skidmarks:-

And then we found the porcupine...

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It was still alive. I am so sad. I wish that it had died on impact. It makes me heartsore to think that it might have been suffering there all night. We went to the farmer on whose farm we found it, and told him about the little guy. He said he would send his workers there to "take care of it". I don't really want to think about what that means. As long as it isn't suffering anymore I'll be happy.

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But now, look at our tyre:-

Ish! And we were broke already this month to begin with, without still having to replace our two front tyres.

It was quite a bad night for "animal things" though, because after we'd hit the porcupine we got home and there came Cassidy running with a bird in her mouth. And the bird was still chirping. Grrrreat.

At least this morning we feel a bit better after having spoken to the farmer (our neighbour) who told us that the porcupines are actually real pests in these parts. And that there are hundreds of them around the farm. But I still feel sad for the poor little (BIG!) guy that we hit.

Enough about the porcupine though.

As we were driving out of our neighbour's farm, we were bombarded by his herd of cows. They closed around the bakkie and gave us a whole earful. And when we kept inching forward to get to work, they put on a bit of a "peepshow" for us. Let's just say we now know a bit about the birds and the bees. And the um, cows. Mooooove over Hugh Heffner. You got nothing on these guys.

And then, we saw these beautiful guys.

There was a little baby zebra with them too, but by the time I got my camer out, he'd already trotted off into the veld and we couldn't see him anymore.

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*Bakkie = South African for pick-up truck; pronounced buck + ee

Back again

IIIIII'mmmmmm baaaaaacccckkkk! And happy again too. Nothing like a reprieve and a couple hundred cups of coffee to help you get your mojo back. Better yet - my computer is back from the shop, with a new skip in it's step. Apparently the technicians couldn't find what was wrong with it. So, it was either all in my imagination or my p.c. took one look at that pile of discarded computers in the technicians workshop and decided to shape up. Probably the latter. All I know is - I CAN BLOG AGAIN! woot woot!

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I wouldn't cope longterm without a global cyber-audience to spill my guts to.

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Me thinks I'm quite addicted to airing my dirty laundry.

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But would you know it - I don't have anything to say right now. Except that I was supposed to start the Dragon Pills again this morning, and I forgot. Dash. I wonder if I can still take them tomorrow? Hmmm...

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That's what I get for going on hiatus for a few days.

Teeveeholic

If you're not a tv watcher, this post might not interest you... In which case you won't know that there's been a Writer's Strike. And hence some of my fave shows are delayed. So I'm waiting.

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So one of my all-time fave shows "Men In Trees" is on hiatus because of The Writer's Strike. I honestly never paid much attention to The Writers Strike, because, well, our tv still continued without interruption and I thought that by the time the strike ended, we'd have only been a month or two behind the USA shows. And now, as with all things African, we are waiting. And heaven knows when Men In Trees will be putting a smile on my dial again. Boo hoo... and it ended at such a crucial moment too - with Jack holding some flossie in his arms, on a lifeboat adrift at sea. Talk about a cliffhanger.

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Almost as bad as when Veronica Mars' first season ended and you didn't know if she chose the badboy or the high school sweetheart. (Now I'm really revealing my penchant for all things frivolous and shallow, aren't I?)

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But definitely my very most worstest totally blow-me-awayest ending to a season was the season finalé where NCIS Special Agent Todd (Sasha Alexander) got shot in the head. Robin and I both sat forward in our seats, waiting for a Dallas-type senario where It Was All Only A Very Bad Dream. But, alas, it wasn't. And now the series continues, minus Agent Todd. And me as a viewer. I was so angry they killed her off that I totally "boycotted" their show. And hence my hubby did too. Because I barter the remote for favours.

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Oh, and now that I'm on a roll, remember Denny from Grey's? Why, oh why do they always let the good ones die?

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At the moment I'm waiting for these shows to return:-

• Smallville. Because, really, when last did you see such a hunk* ANYWHERE on planet earth?
• Men In Trees. Jack! Jack! Oh wherefore art thou, Jack?
• Survivor
• The Amazing Race
• American Idol or Idols the UK version

Let's hope none of those shows were affected by the Writers' Strike. Otherwise this lil couch potato's gonna start sprouting some spuds in the next few months waiting for her fave shows to return. Which is also just as well, because chances are I probably won't be sprouting anything of a Mini-Me nature.

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The wait continues.

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*Now there's a word you probably haven't heard since Noah was roaming the planet. I really need to brush up on my youngster vocab, lest I give away my geriatricness.

Back and This and That

Hello everyone. I feel like I am emerging from the very depths of the deepest pit today. The last two days have been horrible really. Not life destroying, or sad. I just felt weighed down with heaviness. My body was crampy. And tired. Oh, so very tired. Everything I did required monumental effort and even smiling took some doing. How awful. What a terrible waste of a few days.
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The last two days reminded me why I hated the Dragon Pills so much and why I had decided that I would never use them again... and yet, here I am. I wonder what I was thinking to even contemplate trying again. Especially when I feel so bad on them. Oh well. I'll have to ride this cycle out. I still have two more months of pills... but, man, I don't know if I want to try again after this spell of feeling so crappy...
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But, today I'm feeling better. I don't quite have my groove back, but at least my body isn't so crampy anymore. Ha-le-luuuuuu-jah! Oh, and I especially wanted to say THANK YOU to Rita for her short comment on my One Bad Post. You made me feel like I wasn't going mad at all. You reminded me that this isn't the real me. It's those blinking Dragon Pills. Thank you!!! You will never know how much that meant (means) to me. The other comments too, but that one really made me feel "sjoe! it's going to be ok." I'm so glad I met you! The Been There, Done That Club helps me so much.

And in other news, you will never believe who we saw yesterday. Go ahead, guess! Remember my kitty that ran away last year? We never did find out what had happened to her. And then, last night Robin and I were driving up our hillbilly driveway after our date, when the lights of our 4x4 landed on some eyes reflecting in the bushes. That's not a strange occurrence when you live in the bush, so we didn't get too excited about it. And then the lights fell on the animal again, and she was sitting in the driveway, about 200metres from the house. Robin and I both shouted "Moonie!" at the same time, and she darted into the bush. We didn't see her again, even though we walked up and down the road calling for her for about fifteen minutes. At least I know she's fat and happy. And hasn't been mauled by wild dogs or something. Just why she would choose to live in the bush and have to hunt for food etc. when she gets yummy food and a warm spot on our bed at home is beyond me. So, you see - The Hillbilly Syndrome strikes again. Even the cats aren't immune.
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And on a totally different note - welcome back to the blogosphere Chrissy. I'm so glad you're blogging again.

And now I'm going to make myself an enormous cuppa coffee, because if my body's sending me the right messages, then this cycle definitely hasn't worked, and I can just as well enjoy a good cuppa in commiseration.

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Sorry guys - I had links and photo's in the post, and it was nicely formatted, and then we had a power out and now blogger's giving me error messages... I'll try to fix this post later again.

Bugged

The bugs in South Africa don't play.

They mean business.

And this bite is already a few days old.

Good Samaritan gone bad

*Warning - VERY gross details ahead! Oh ok, but don't say I didn't warn you!*

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And there I thought I was being all gallant, taking one of the ladies who work in the bush camp's kitchen to the doctor, after she broke out in huge bulgy welts shortly before lunch time. Ag shame, I reflected, thinking how she would have to walk at least a kilometre to the main road into Dundee, and from there catch a taxi (that alone is enough to give anyone the hives!) into town, where she'd have to sit in a queue at the clinic for at least a couple of hours. By which time she might look like a booger. So, I offered to drive her into town and grabbed some cash to pay the doctor (my own doctor, take note!) to have a look at her.

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I must admit I had to twist my own arm a bit. You should have seen those welts. I almost asked her if I could take a photo for my blog. Which just goes to show the lengths I will go to, to share my life with y'all. But my camera is at home I thought better of it. Exploiting a person in distress = v callous.

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Instead I whispered "What Would Jesus Do?" over and over to myself as we drove together into town. In almost silence. It was very tempting to make a slight detour past our house on the way in. My camera was so close, and yet so far. So very tempting. But I repeated my mantra silently to myself, and pointed the nose of my bakkie* firmly towards town.

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The doctor's appointment appeased my fears that whatever she had wasn't going to attack me too went well and we set out on our ten minute drive back out to the bush. I even started humming a tune merrily to myself, thinking how very brave I was to take her into town in my very own 4x4 when she could have had Some Funny Jungle Bug lying in wait for me.

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And this is where the *** hits the fan. Or the hootch, as the case may be.

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*Note to self: whenever transporting a sick person of the Zulu persuasion, be advised that when ill, Zulu people do not talk. As in AT ALL. Even if they are feeling really green. Rather load said sick person on rear of vehicle and avoid disaster. And I mean that in the kindest way possible. Because they WILL NOT warn you that they are about to pimp the interior of your ride.*

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It happened almost in poetic slow motion. The retching sound, followed by frantic clawing at the windows and doors and then the splatter of partly chewed bits of food against the glass and upholstery of the door.

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I would have joined the chorus. In harmony too. If I hadn't been in my car!

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I'm sure that stage whisper of mine must have upped a notch or two as my "What Would Jesus Do?"s became a strangled gasp of distress, followed by me clapping my hand over my own mouth in a desperate attempt to stop from shooting a few cats of my own. If you know what I'm saying.

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Needless to say, I'm wishing there was a good valet service in town right now.
And a "rewind" button.
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The drive home was a contest between me wanting to floor the pedal to get back to the bush camp as QUICKLY as possible, so as to avoid her giving my bakkie* another interior spray painting; and me thinking that the slower I drive, the quicker I'll be able to stop, should spray painting the interior of my vehicle a second time become an inevitable likelihood. It was a dilemma of epic proportions. I landed up doing the kangaroo petrol thing. One minute flooring it, the next thinking better of my decision and slowing down to a meandering drive through the countryside.

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Either way, driving with all four windows wound right down still didn't help with the aromatic odour of recycled breakfast.

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It's dang hard to feel good about your good deed when you're blocking your nose on the ride home. And that's all I have to say about that.

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Oh, and I doubt I will ever be able to eat a bowl of kell*ggs corn flakes ever again.

The memory of That Splat is just too fresh in my mind.

*Bakkie - South African for truck or pick-up

Easy Listening

Call it the stalker sentamentalist in me, but I'm always imagining what my friends might be doing at any given moment. If they're smiling and happy, or shouting profanities at taxis... if they're listening to the radio, and if so, what radio station they're listening to. Sometimes I even go so far as to google radio stations in their area, and log on for a quick listen. And just maybe, if a few fairies somehwere collide, they might be listening to the exact same thing at that very moment and shaking their booties too. I know. I'm silly like that. Anyhoo, I thought I'd share my fave listens with you from our local okals. These radio stations are top notch. And you get to hear the south african accent too... because you just have to read my blog with a South African accent:-

East Coast Radio (what I listen to all day almost every day. If I can get a good signal.) is the fave radio station of most people living in KwaZulu Natal. Lots of local news, funnies, good music, etc.

Algoa FM (where most of my cousins and school friends stay - the Eastern Cape. This is a really groovy radio station - and you'll notice that the accent down there is quite different to the accent up here.)

5FM is the radio station that spans all of South Africa. By far the biggest radio station with the biggest listening circle. But I don't listen to it because they like to blaspheme. And therefore I boycott them. Because if there's one thing I can't tolerate it's people taking God's name in vain. It makes the hairs on the back of my teeth stand up.

And then there is a station that I listen to, for news of my other fave country on the planet...

Hamburg Radio in Germany.

But I'm getting slightly bored with the humdrum now. What radio stations do you listen to? Pretty please send me some links. Or if you're comment-challenged, just say howdy and I like to listen to *fandaldangal*. I'll google them later and then have a listen. For those of you who are reaaaaalllly special, here are some instructions on HOW TO COMMENT. Part Two. Because you didn't catch the hint the first time round.

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Because really, what it comes down to is that I really need something to keep my mind off of Heath Ledger. *Sob!* And that's all I have to say about that.

Doggy issues

Welcome to the Funny Farm, folks.

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On your left, our cows, currently undergoing some or other vaccinnation which left the whole herd of them bellowing at some unearthly hour of the morning. And raising the dead fast asleep and forcing them to wake up on the wrong side of the bed. No names mentioned. But you could find her still sitting in her pajammies at the computer blogging right now. And downing her third cuppa.

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On the right, the chickens which scavenge food from the dog's bowls at every available opporunity. Chancers. The bunch of them. Don't be surprised if someday, somewhere, somehow, you find yourselves on the Colonel's List of Most Wanted for Rounders. And that's all I have to say about that.

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Chasing the chickens are the two happy corgies, Buttercup and Baxter. Our dogs in shining armour.

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Bringing up the rear and chasing the corgies are the three kittens who think they're sheepdogs: Jazzy, Cassidy and Peanut.

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And hiding under the bed in our spare room is Kiara. Our severely depressed and forlorn pooch. She is now on anti-depressants. I kid you not. Two days ago she spent the night outside, because now matter how much we offered her the chickens on buns bribed her and goaded her and called for her, she refused to come inside. She thinks we're Freddy Kruger. I can see it in her eyes. Which leads me to believe that someone must have hurt her sometime before we adopted her. So, anyway, after days of wooing, she still didn't like us. At all. What I don't understand is - what's not to like? Seriously. So, we came to the conclusion that she must have a few issues.

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Which wouldn't be too surprising, what with this being the Funny Farm and all.

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We took a drive to the vet's and he diagnosed her as clinically depressed with a case of severe separation anxiety, due to previous neglect and not enough KFC too much change in her environment. She is now on happy pills. The kind that make her bounce around the yard like a ping-pong ball and chase the cats who are chasing the dogs who are chasing the chickens.

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So, basically, she now fits right in.

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!

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.

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!