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Is nothing sacred?

Apparently the copyright to Winnie the Pooh, held by Disney up until recently, has now expired.

So, what has the world done? Made a slasher movie of course. Winnie the Pooh: Blood and Honey (wonder how long it took them to come up with that title).

Pooh and Piglet have been around for 95 years and now, it seems, they are pissed. Gone rogue on Christopher Robin.

Difficult to reconcile that this is what the world needs really.

Wasn’t the horror of Bambi and Old Yeller enough to bear? But, in those movies, at least there was a lesson. What lesson can ANY slasher movie provide?

I’m not sure how important Winnie the Pooh is to the latest generation of kids, but it seems sad that “Blood and Honey” could be become anyone’s memory and impression of the gentle Pooh Bear.

Funny may be back soon. Sorry Pooh, the world has gone mad.

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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.

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It’s all falling apart really – My Lovely Man

Good health.  It seems to be the luck of the draw really.  Or can we all expect to fall apart when we get on a bit.

We are on the phone to the dentist again pleading for an appointment because my lovely man flicked off half a tooth with a toothpick. Again.

It’s not fair that he should have any tooth problems, because he’s always looked after his teeth, he tells me. Although when he went with his siblings to the dentist it was always him needing a filling or two and his siblings, he assures me, were not deserving of good teeth.

See, luck of the draw these things.

My lovely man is very uncomplaining about any ailments.  Stoic.  I am not at all stoic if anything goes wrong.  Winger I could be labelled.

It is just as well I am healthy because I am not brave.  I would rather be dead than ill.  If I ever get ill, I am likely to be shot in the eye in frustration by my loved ones. They will certainly advocate a mercy killing, and their justification would be that it would be a mercy on them to be rid of me.

But you read these days that children now can expect to live to exceed 100 years in age. 

We can presume though, that they will be completely re-built.  Replacement knees, spine, hips, teeth, organs.  Because really, that’s what happens already doesn’t it?  By the time you are in your 60’s, all kinds of things start giving you hell.

Almost eight billion of us already, and everyone looks to exceed 100 years in age in the very near future. 

It’s not for sissies.

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Keeping it Tidy – My Lovely Man

I have taken to giving my little pups their weekly bath with me in the shower.

This is easier than doing it over the bath.  Our wonderful house helper usually takes on the back breaking task of washing them with a hand shower in the bath, so she is very grateful at this new turn of events.

I have not yet suggested that perhaps she get in the shower with them, not sure her work contract stretches to that.

My lovely man takes on the drying role and the passing of a new pup for a lathering.

We should video this for your blog he suggested. 

You will be relieved to know that it was a hard no from me.  If he even appears in the bathroom with his phone, I’ll drown him.

On another note….

We have a lady come to the house both in Mozambique and Zimbabwe, to cut our hair.  (Not the same lady).

Very efficient really.

It was haircut day the other day, and we were both closely shorn.

Also, very efficient really.

I have been complimenting my lovely man on how handsome he looks.

He, in turn, has been calling me “mhanza”.  Which I was less than delighted to learn means baldy in Shona.

Compliments, who needs them hey?

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Let’s play Golf, it’ll be fun – My Lovely Man

My lovely man plays a bit of golf with friends quite regularly. 

I’m not yet convinced anyone ENJOYS golf. 

A friend advertised her husband’s clubs for a ridiculously low price after listening to one too many rants as to how he was sick of the game and was going to sell his clubs. He fielded offers for days.

Another friend glanced at her phone once and said ‘Oh no, it’s my husband, he’s been playing Golf, he’s going to go on again’

Then she listed to his whining and whispered soothingly ‘No darling, you are not completely useless…’

Anyway… before my lovely man headed off to his afternoon golf game he made me a little plate of cold meats and salad for lunch (coz he is lovely), and then he staggered off to play 18 holes, and I went back to my desk. 

After their analysis at the 19th hole… no doubt as to how useless everyone was and what do they even play this game for, he comes home.

Are you alright darling he asks, did you have any supper? You didn’t eat a big lunch.  (Love him).

I’m alright thanks darling I assure him, I’m fine, I’m not hungry. I’m having a quick shower. 

OK, he says, but the chips you never ate are falling out your bra again.

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Leave me alone, I have a headache – Topical

I am fascinated by the attraction to sex dolls, sex robots and the like.  And there is, I believe, a demand.

I don’t want to judge.  Some people are very judgemental, you can tell just by looking at them.

That’s not me.

But I am fascinated.  There was a recent story about a couple who decided to get a sex doll made up in the spitting image of the wife.  For, you know, when she’d had enough argy bargy.  The doll could step in.  This was their story.

Except the doll was not the spitting image of the wife.  She was enhanced quite a bit.  That’s gonna become a problem isn’t it.  And the doll is not going to age, get sick or get fat.

So many questions.  So many pros and cons really. And, one of the things I wonder about is ‘is this really a joint decision?’  Why didn’t the wife get her own improved sex doll husband?  Just to even things out.  Is there such a thing? 

But that’s just it, isn’t it, relationships ARE hard.  For me personally, it’s possibly time to get happy with being single if your partner needs to bring a doll into things.