Category: Daily Life

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Say that again?

My lovely man is a bit hard of hearing.

The entire household seems to be, because certainly no one listens to me, including all the animals.

I am often reminded of a dear fellow that I worked with who informed me ‘ Rosie, your voice is pitched like a dog whistle, none of us have a chance.’

I digress.

On a recent morning walk, we were approached by some fellows who had saved a tortoise that was (slowly we presume), dodging the traffic.  Precious little thing.  Because this is Africa, we had to pay them and I carried the dear little thing triumphantly home.

I have always had a fondness for tortoises, and this little guy has now come into our lives!  That’s how it happens with animals isn’t it? 

I am likely to be lambasted because perhaps he’s exotic and we should not be looking after him.  But I love him already.  We’ll figure out for sure what the right thing to do is.  Better in the garden than the traffic surely?

Let’s call him Tommy I suggested to my lovely man.  How do you know he’s he, he asked.  My sister, I advised him, said that male shells are more rounded, and female shells are flatter.

Oh, he said, how on earth would she know that, should I Google it too?

She’s quite smart I said, but yes, you can Google it.

What should I ask Google he asked me.

Ask Google ‘ How do I sex a tortoise’ I suggested.

There are no results, he advised somberly, for ‘ How do I text a tortoise’ , I think we are doing it wrong.

Don’t you just love him? I’m sure he does it on purpose to entertain me.  He’s the best.

Tommy, it turns out, prefers the pronoun ‘ they ‘ .

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It’s just routine

My lovely man and I have a bit of an exercise routine.  Nothing to get excited about, just a daily walk and a bit of stretching and Pilates. Not very far (the walk) and it’s chair Pilates.

Still, we are better off for doing it and quite smug about the effort.

I say routine, but we are easily jolted out of this routine for a variety of reasons (insert irrelevant excuse here), and then it takes some effort to get back into it.

Anyway, with enormous discipline we once again staggered off on our walk today after some weeks of abstinence.

But!  This time I strapped some extra weight onto my ankles.

A friend I used to walk with has some of these ankle/wrist weights and I was greatly admiring of them, and her.

These are the reason she looks fabulous, and I look like shit I pondered.

So, I ordered some. 

I am a great Take a Lot fan.  I only recently discovered Take a Lot, but since then, am single handedly, I believe, keeping them afloat. 

I use their services when I am in Zimbabwe. Via a runner. Also a recent discovery. I am clearly a late bloomer.

Very sadly, most goods in Zimbabwe are so horrifically overpriced that it is cheaper to shop this way. Illegally I mean. Don’t tell Al Jazeera.

This really, is all the excuse I need to shop. Cheaper.  There should be a 12-step plan for Take a Lot.

Why have you ordered that my lovely man inquires after every delivery of goodies.  Because it’s cheaper, I reply.  But he continues, do we need it?

How irrelevant. Men.

When I ordered my wrist/ankle weights, I contemplated the 2kg pair.  Luckily, I settled on 1kg an ankle really.

Are you ready to go my lovely man asked.  Well, yes, I said, as soon as I find the strength to lift my weighted foot off this chair and put it on the ground again.

I’m not carrying those for you when you get tired, he warned.  He’s not an idiot. He gives me a similar warning every time we go out and it’s a bit nippy.  Take a jacket, I’m not giving you mine. 

And then, of course, he does.  Bless him. Not without some mutters.

Are you OK he asked as I gasped along on the walk.  Sure, I replied, but I’m likely to need a double knee replacement.

I better end up as fabulous as my friend.

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Yes.. I identify as…

We are enjoying a few days at the magnificent Victoria Falls. 

I know, so lucky. 

Our resort offers a shuttle service into town. They don’t encourage you to walk too far around here because of the wild animals. Having said that, the locals walk everywhere. Out of necessity one presumes. 

Anyway, after our boozy lunch (always), we caught the shuttle back.

There was a very attractive lady on the shuttle with us and then we stopped again and picked up Casanova. Himself.

Immediately he started harassing her for her details. Including phone number and room number. 

Amazing. 

So, when we arrived, we hung around a bit to escort her, as necessary, because of this unwanted and somewhat aggressive attention. 

Later, when we were having a sundowner, we saw this young lady again and she thanked us for the help. 

She was with her friends by now. (She made a point of telling us, perhaps she thought we would chase them off too). 

Where are you from they asked us. 

This question is almost as loaded as ‘what is your surname’. I am always confused by both and tend to ramble a bit. 

Luckily my lovely man stepped in and explained that we were local. Zimbabwean. 

Immediately we were regarded with deep suspicion. Which is normal. My lovely man never gets asked by a Zimbabwean if he is Zimbabwean. I braced myself for the inevitable.

She doesn’t sound like a Zimbabwean they stated, as expected, moving away slightly. She sounds like an South African. Also, they continued, it’s her hair. Very Pretoria. The one guy actually waving his hands around his head.

No good deed…

Nice though, he said as an afterthought. 

Yes, I said, I lived in SA for a long time, I guess I picked up an accent. 

Not being able to resist rambling, I further explained that, at one point, I even married into the Afrikaans tribe, but I wasn’t accepted. Voted out. The weakest link stuff.

They all nodded… Knowingly.

My lovely man just sighed and ordered another beer. Don’t start with the surnames please he muttered.  

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Travelling light

Is it just me, or has travel become a pain? 

Because this is Africa, the rules are a moving target that are never quite fully disclosed. Sometimes your vaccination 💉 certificate is required, often not. Sometimes there is an interrogation around how many booster jabs have been had and how long ago. Mostly, nobody cares. 

Also, because this is Africa, there is someone having a beer 🍻 at the airport. 6:30am. We don’t judge. 

One thing that irks me with air travel, is the request to remove your shoes. I always forget this and wear difficult to remove shoes. 

I have also had to surrender my tweezers at the scanner.

I will be boasting a uni brow in a few days.

Another irksome thing is the different baggage allowance based on destination. These, presumably, are based on union negotiations as to how much weight the baggage handler is prepared to lift. But as a result, one must plan around the lowest weight allowed on a staggered trip. 

I can tell you for nothing that Cape Town need to gym it up. 

Why would they not rather give you a total allowance and then a max per bag? To standardise worldwide? 

Who knows? 

I am, of recent, bucking the system and hoping no one weighs my hand luggage.

Because I have to carry my office with me when I travel, and I REALLY like working with multiple screens, I invested in some portable screens. 

They are great, but not light. 

My laptop bag weighs more than my suitcase. 

If a plane I’m on goes down and they can’t figure out why, you can enlighten them. I am, far from light.

I know you have to carry your office with you when you travel darling, but I observe that I am the one actually hauling this bag around, my lovely man mentioned.

Yes darling, make sure you don’t indicate how heavy it actually is, or they may arrest you.

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What’s in a name?

There is a company called Truegrid that, for some reason, comes up on my social media feed occasionally. Who knows how these algorithms work.

I don’t know what the company does, but every time it comes up, I read it as Turgid and have a little juvenile giggle.

I know. Not admirable. Perhaps I’m dyslexic. Clearly I’m immature.

And, I am not in a position to judge a name because I named the consulting company I opened once as Acumen Online.

I ran this by a friend (not seriously though, I’d already made up my mind), and he gently said..

‘Don’t you think that is a bit of a mouthful? And does everyone know the word Acumen? And… are you sure you have it?’

Anyway, he was ignored and I ploughed on (as is my way). You don’t need any acumen to be stubborn.

And, it hasn’t been easy.

Acumen is NOT a well known word. Go figure? And then I chose to operate in Mozambique and they were like wot?

I can’t tell you the pain of explaining ROSEMARY as my first name (we all had to settle on Rosa Maria), then POTGIETER as my surname (at the time it was the surname on my passport and therefore the surname in Mozambique), To be honest, I never really got my tongue around Potgieter even. And then (good Lord), my company name as Acumen Online.

A whole lot of people just couldn’t. I barely could.

This year, I’m going to try and take advice.

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What do you mean it’s discontinued?

Do you have a favourite product that is now discontinued? Do you also sort of feel insulted that you weren’t consulted considering your years of loyalty?

This past year I settled on a lipstick colour. I’m not sure if it’s an age thing and I am always admiring of people who match their lipstick with their outfits, nails and the like. But me, I finally decided that a particular colour was all that I needed.

Maybelline Stayfast 725 since you insist on knowing.

When I was a teenager and experimenting with make up I once put on some bright red lipstick. ‘You shouldn’t wear red lipstick a friend immediately told me, your mouth is too big, you look like a whore’

So, there you go, what are friends for if not their honesty?

It has, however, taken me this long to settle on a colour.

So, getting some more 725s was on my list of purchases to make in SA. (I am a list girl, there is ALWAYS a list). Ask my lovely man, there is always a list for him too.

Finding some 725s proved more difficult than anticipated. Eventually some sweet girl at Clicks told me that it had been discontinued (devastating), but she would look in the old stock and find what she could for me.

I explained my plight and that THIS was my colour and why I couldn’t wear dark colours. She was amazingly empathetic to my story and reinforced it by saying ‘and an OLD whore now, that wouldn’t be good’

Bless her.

She found me 4 725s. I was so grateful. And then she said…

Do you think these will last you your lifetime?

Honestly, employee of the month.

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You do go on a bit…

I have a friend who can be a nag.

Look in the mirror I hear you think.

Still, this guy is something else. If he gets an idea in his head, it becomes fixed… and good Lord he can go on about it.

One of the awesome things in Mozambique is the bread. Particularly the bread rolls. Pão (along with vinho), is one of the few Portuguese words I have learnt. Survival I call it.

The bread is not made with preservatives, so it doesn’t last too long. It doesn’t need to, it’s necessary to eat it immediately. It’s not at all good for you of course, but who cares!

At one point I planned to go on a road trip with a friend (not the nagger), and stay at a coastal resort in central Mozambique. My nagger friend is full of advice. One of his pearls was that under no circumstances should we eat bread as padkos along the route. (Everywhere you go in Mozambique takes an age because the roads are mostly dreadful and there are many police stops along the way asking for refresco). Padkos is necessary.

Eating bread along the way will make you apathetic he implored, you need to eat stuff like nuts and fruit and drink lots of water. You need to stay alert, it’s a long way and the roads are so bad.

I relayed this input to my travel buddy and she immediately objected. But Rosie, she said, you make the most awesome rolls, I was looking forward to our padkos. This is true. I have few (zero), culinary skills, but I do make a good sandwich.

I know, I said, we just mustn’t tell him.

What if he comes to check before we leave she wailed. I know I said, there is a good chance of this, we will have to hide the rolls and show him the bloody nuts and shit.

The other irritating thing this dear friend does is call me constantly. Mainly because he knows I hate it. So, it did not end when we managed to leave and get on the road, our bread rolls safely on board, he phoned constantly to check how we were doing and what we were eating.

The other thing you need if you ever travel in Mozambique, is a strong bladder. This was prior to my she-wee days. I’m not really sure a she-wee is something one can share with a friend? Any input on this matter is appreciated.

Anyway, we didn’t have the benefit of even considering a she-wee to share and it became a crisis.

We knew of a place, you may know it…. Buffalo Lodge…. a great place to stop for coffee and a well deserved ablute.

We were desperate… desperate…. finding Buffalo Lodge was critical.

My friend phoned (again)…. how’s it going, what are you eating…..?

For the love of…..

I saw the sign to turn off and yelled and pointed Buffalo, Buffalo! If we had missed the turning it would have been the end of any dignity we were barely hanging onto.

Buffalo… I heard him say in the distance as I threw my phone down… well, I suppose that’s good, but buffalo?

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An honest mistake

Did you hear about the below story…..

A fellow didn’t realise his wife had also got out the car to ablute and drove off. For 160km before he realised she was actually NOT sleeping in the back anymore.

She was left, in the dark, in Thailand. With nothing but perhaps damp panties.

http://702.co.za/articles/463400/til-abonnement-do-us-part-man-drives-off-without-wife-thinks-she-s-in-the-car

I had a husband that did this to me. This was my pre she-wee days. So, there I was, trying to discreetly do my business beside the car. Hoping to not wee on my shoes or be seen by any passer by.

And he drove off. Leaving me fully exposed of course. Funny guy.

Keep the keys is my advice.

We are divorced now.