Category: Daily Life

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Yes, my suitcase is ready

My brother and sister in law are visiting from the States for a bit. Aren’t I the luckiest?

So we are away for a few days.

Does your lovely man hover around you as soon as you start packing, requesting if he can close up the suitcase yet?

Now that we are here he is watching me eye the lovely towels, gowns and pillows. Hotels always have great pillows don’t they?

Don’t you dare take anything he warned me, we know these people. They’ll come and find their stuff at our house and then I’ll never be invited to play golf with them again.

What a killjoy.

Also, my little panties I am washing in the shower (as we do, tell me I’m not alone here), are disappearing. Any suggestions on how to broach this at reception?

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Is it a bird…..

We flew recently. Yes, like on a plane.

It was a fairly early morning flight, so I was hoping for a nice fresh bacon and egg roll.

Expectations, they’ll keep you miserable.

We got a snack box.

Immediately my lovely man identified the snack box boxes as being potential rat box boxes. Once you are a pest control officer, it’s amazing how you see a rat box in everything.

Can you fit them in your bag he asked.

I actually have an enormous, very heavy handbag. And this, I have realised, is why.

Can you put this in your bag… Is the soundtrack to my life.

Nevertheless, I once again I realised how wonderfully balanced my lovely man and I are.

He didn’t fancy his energy bar, I took his for the team.

I didn’t want my apple juice, he drank both.

He didn’t fancy the biltong stick packet, I helped him out.

He didn’t think much of the little packet of cheddar biscuits…….

Yes, I too have realised I ate everything the revolting snack box offered. He’s hydrated, I’m a dried out prune.

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What’s that on your face?

I am at the age of greying hair. I am uncertain as to how grey I am, as I regularly colour my hair.

A number of friends have taken the bold step of allowing the grey, and they all look fantastic. I am not yet this courageous. It’s a bit of a process I believe. My hair grows like a weed and I have a lot of it, so I have to colour regularly. Box colour, full disclosure, I am not glam.

The problem with colour is it gets on your face. You have to be quite diligent about wiping it off carefully when you first apply the colour. Or it stains, of course, in places you don’t want to colour.

Today I failed.

It’s easier to get colour off your skin (it’s not built to colour your skin I guess), but I have a fluffy face. I am grateful, as I age, that unlike my lovely man, my ear and nose hair are not aggressively increasing (what’s with that anyway? Why?). But, my already fluffy face is coming out in force.

I’m like a little Alpaca. A chubby one.

Hair, is what hair colour is meant to colour as it turns out.

So, now I have red sideburns. Mutton chops really.

Best displayed in the sunshine.

The bathroom is sunny. My lovely man walked in and said ‘How’s your hair looking….. oh…. can you shave those?’

I’m quite certain that shaving my face will quickly become a slippery slope.

We have coffee in a bit with friends. In a garden setting. It’s a gorgeous sunny day.

My lovely man never has to worry about me betraying him, nobody else would want me.

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It’s a habit

Forming habits are hard. Actually, that’s not true. Bad habits are very easy, it’s the good ones that are hard.

We all pretty much know what we should do don’t we… get enough sleep; don’t drink, or at least don’t drink too much; don’t overeat; stretch; get some exercise; meditate; slow down; manage your stress; get a balance; have friends; love your family if you are lucky enough to have one…. and of course, get an animal (or two) to love and look after!

Doing all of this not so easy. Lots of excuses really. Life is busy!

Of course there is a lot of talk about intermittent fasting. So, I researched it a bit. Bless Google!

How often should one fast I asked. Every day is best I was advised.

Every day? What, until you die? Skinny and gorgeous is good to no-one dead. I did actually read that someone fasted for 100 days and survived. I could probably last longer.

Further research revealed that one should fast for 16 hours each day.

Once again…. what?

But actually, this is possible of course. My lovely man’s doctor (who is fit and healthy – one doesn’t want a fat, unhealthy doctor giving you diet advice really), advised us that cutting out carbs and sugar and eating ONCE a day is the way to go.

Of course fasting for 16 hours of the day means that one only ingests liquid in that time. No caffeine, no calories. Not so much fun liquids like black tea and lemon water are allowed.

So, if one doesn’t eat between the hours of 8pm and 12pm, for instance, that’s 16 hours.

Isn’t that doable?

What my research did not advise, and I can see that I am going to have to figure this out for myself, is how much planning one has to do to eat solidly for the 8 hours you have left.

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Just drive!

I follow a few touristy Facebook pages that give travelers advice. Particularly between South Africa and Mozambique. They are not very informative about travel between Zimbabwe and Mozambique, or Zimbabwe and South Africa, but perhaps I am on the wrong pages.

I absolutely LOVE these pages. Because they are a scream. I’m quite sure that some of the questions are written to amuse us all.

We have the standard queries….

  1. How quickly can I down a tipo tinto once I leave the border into Mozambique? And will there be cold raspberry sparletta available or must we bring our own.
  2. I know there is a foot and mouth problem and meat from SA is not allowed, but is it fine if we vacuum pack it?
  3. Is there food in Mozambique, or must we bring our own?
  4. Is it legal for me to trail my boat, caravan and quad bikes on ONE registration number?
  5. I know it is not advisable to drive at night in Mozambique. We plan to arrive at 11pm, will it be night in Mozambique?
  6. I know we must all wear our seat belts in the car, but is it fine to strap extra passengers to the roof rack. (This, of course, IS fine in most parts of Africa).

The questions asking people to give them accurate information based on travel estimations are fabulous. And it is particularly heartwarming how many readers try to calculate and assist. Bless them.

For example..

  1. If I leave Swakopmund at 03h00, drive for three days, have fourteen bathroom breaks, perhaps stop for lunch, maybe visit Tanie Madelein, will I arrive at the (unnamed) border before it closes?

And my personal best, the surname query (I always feel inclined to reply on these ones, because I have a bit of experience).

  1. My son’s passport has arrived and not only is my three time previously married surname incorrectly in his passport as his mother, they have named my lover as his father instead of my husband. Will this be a problem at the border?
  2. My ID, passport, credit card, birth certificate, organ donor card AND library card are ALL in different surnames, will this be a problem at the border.

On this last one, I am qualified to answer. Yes.

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Have another lizard

We went to a friend’s house for lunch. There may have been wine and strawberries. Certainly there was great food, fantastic company and a good number of giggles.

There were also dogs. Beautiful German Shephard dogs. My lovely mans favourite TV programme is Hudson & Rex. We love Rex. But, that is for another time.

I love dogs. But, truth be told, I am a little nervous of big dogs. Nevertheless, we were oohing and aahing over these gorgeous pups. There was a comment that one of them was quite lean. Our lovely host commented that she was really active, but ate very well, including lizards she caught.

Well, I said, maybe that’s why she’s lean, I should maybe eat some.

Why? One of the guests asked.

Bless her I thought, she wants to give me a compliment that I CERTAINLY don’t need to lose weight, that I’m fabulous.

I need to lose a bit of weight I admitted modestly.

Yes, yes, she said, but why lizards?

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Problem, what problem?

Some years ago, a customer of mine put me on an AA WhatsApp group. And since then, I have been getting these daily messages of encouragement to stay sober.

I wasn’t quite sure what to read into this of course. I don’t believe I am a big drinker, but I guess that’s what they (we) all say.

I am Zimbabwean born, so the odds really are against me NOT being a big drinker.

I have an aversion to removing myself off WhatsApp groups I am put on. I feel so privileged to be put on the group. And, you know, you can see when someone leaves. And it’s SO rude. Also, he is a customer… So…. awkward. But I have lots of questions… Like why do you think I need this?

Our daily message (see that, I’m feeling one with this group), starts off with the Serenity Prayer. Then it launches into one of the steps, guidance on the challenges we have to conquer, all KINDS of inspirational stuff.

They are VERY long messages. While I am in awe of these daily compilations, I very rarely read it all. Especially if I have a hangover 🤣

I actually only started drinking any alcohol when I turned 40. Encouraged by my group of friends, the Ex Wives Club. A story for another day perhaps.

Wherever we go, my lovely man produces, from somewhere on his being, some strawberries for my wine. Isn’t he marvelous?

I suspect I am going to have to report this to the group. He’s the enabler.

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Can anyone hear me?

My lovely man, and his BFF, the intrepid Mandova. A source of great entertainment the both of them.

Both of them hard of hearing.

Makes it quite easy for me to keep track of what is going on in the household, because they are inevitably yelling updates at each other.

Quite often I will jabber on to them for a few minutes and then regard their blank faces and realize neither have or wish to hear me.

What is our list for today I hear them ask each other regularly. Also quite regularly I am called to survey something they have done together.

The current challenge is keeping the power going. We are blessed with a solar system, but the solar system needs to be topped up by the municipal electricity intermittently. The municipal electricity has been a bit scarce of late (someone must have stolen it).

I am particularly bleak when the geyser gets cold.

Today I was summoned to check on the state of the solar batteries. Low. We all regarded this solemnly.

No boiling of the kettle or running anything that consumes a lot of power. (Hope my wine stays cold).

I think, my lovely man suggested, if we don’t get electricity today or tonight, we must run the generator to boost the batteries.

What I suggest, Mandova stated (oblivious), is that if we don’t get electricity soon, we should run the generator.

What did he say, my lovely man asked me.

So, I said…. Tell you what, if it doesn’t come right, let’s use the generator.

Glad I thought of it.

So we are going to do that.

Love them both. Peas in a pod in their thinking. Deaf peas of course.

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Sorry, not sorry

Today I was giving feedback to a customer. We were having, in fact, a conversation over WhatsApp. As one does. Many, many different communication forums these days aren’t there, one has to keep track and ensure good record keeping .

The feedback was not good news. We are in a frustrating situation that is taking its toll on everyone while we try and resolve it.

At the end of the conversation he gave me the finger. In an emoji you know.

I was a bit taken aback. But then I thought, OK, perhaps that was deserving, take it on the chin.

He immediately deleted it and apologized and said that he meant to use the thumbs up but the emoji’s were too close to each other.

It’s OK, I said, the situation probably warrants that type of response, I’ll pass it onto the crowd letting us down.

No, no, he said, I would never send that emoji, we just use it a lot on the group I’m on with my cousins.

I want cousins like that man!

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Those Comrades are Crazy

They are running the Comrades Marathon between Pietermaritzburg and Durban today. For the first time since the start of Covid. So, I think they have missed two years.

Which is a pity really because I was ready to compete last year.

Only kidding. If I run for any length of time my rubbing thighs are likely to set my fanny on fire.

Many years ago I attended a motivational talk by an accomplished woman comrades runner. She was extraordinary. I was, however dismayed to see that she had cellulite.

It seems terribly unfair that you are capable of running 90 km and are STILL cursed with cellulite.

I blame that for putting my running career to an end before it even started really.

We have braved our little porta pool this Sunday. Cellulite and all. In between oohing and aaahing at those extraordinary runners. Yes, we are not wealthy enough to put in a real pool, but I do love bobbing around in my porta pool.

The weather is lovely, but the (green) water is only 16 degrees Celsius. However, I insisted it is warm enough and we MUST get in. We are in autumn here, for what it’s worth.

To balance things out, my lovely man is serving us lentils for lunch.