USA and RSA 2

My 100th post, woohoo! And whilst I would like to regale you with a wonderfully witty and scintillating piece of writing, all i've got is still how different my new home is. I've had a bit of time to think about a few more differences and here they are. I must warm you though, toilets are mentioned once again.

Bathrooms.

There are self flushing toilets. Yip, once you get off the seat with the front piece missing the toilet takes it upon itself to flush. Then when you exit the stall you get to the self thinking tap which ejects water onto your hands. There's just one flaw with this whole system. You have to actually touch the soap dispenser to clean your hands. So while you've been so clean up until this point, germs still await. But it's doesn't stop there, there are some bathrooms with clever thinking soap dispensers but you have to push a button on the paper dispensing machine. So whilst the theory of not actually touching anything in a bathroom is a good one, I have yet to go into a bathroom that can do all of the no touching elements stated above.

Banks.

There are no banking fees here. None for withdrawing from an atm, none for having an account and none for upgrading your card. Whilst i'm sure there are some for other things, the day to day irritation of actually having to pay someone to hold your own money is somewhat cheaper. And whilst the thought of paying an institution to safe guard our hard earned money is still a rather crazy notion (especially when they see fit to lend it out to anyone who may or may not be able to pay them back), I take small comfort in the fact that banking in America seems to burn less of a hole in my pocket than it did in SA.

Cars.

There are about a bazillion different makes and models of cars in America. Hundreds to which the likes of South Africa will most probably never see. And most of them are automatic. It is, in some cases, more expensive to buy a manual car here, which I personally think is awesome. However there is a serious drawback to all of this. Whilst I like the variety and automatic-ness of all vehicles here, I still do not like the speed at which they wizz past you, on the wrong side of the road whilst talking on a cellphone. Yes, it is still legal to talk and drive here.. really really not sure why!

Pizza.

I love pizza. I can and have lived on pizza. I have entered pizza heaven. One slice of American pizza is the same size as 1 whole medium Butlers pizza, no jokes. And you can order it online and have it delivered within 20 minutes. Person to person telephonic contact is not necessary, just a bank card and a big appetite! And with all the money I save on the lack of  banking fees, this is a really really good system!

Pharmacies.

They are pretty much exactly the same as they are in South Africa except for one GLARING difference. Whilst the drug selection is larger, the sweet selection worse for your teeth and the oddities you would find in your grandmother's formal lounger more prolific, they are basically just the American super-sized version of our own pharmacies. Except for one thing, they sell cigarettes. I KNOW, weird right??? A health zone openly being unhealthy... maybe it's just me but is seems very strange indeed.

USA and RSA

Since we have been in America, I have noticed a number of differences between South Africa and here. Some are quirky, some are funny and some are just plain weird. My top 10 so far, but have no fear, i'm very certain this might turn into a top 100.

1. Americans. 

They are super duper friendly and will always ask how you are doing and feel no qualms about calling you Pet, Baby Doll or Sweet Cheeks after having met you only once. Whilst in American culture this would be fine, this grumpy South African has a hard time trying to distinguish the difference between wanting to have an actual conversation or general politeness/over friendlyness. I struggle on a daily basis when at the check out at Publix as to whether I should just reply fine or tack on the obligatory "and you"... i'm afraid they might just answer and my ice cream would melt!

2. Kettles and toasters. 

They don't have either. Which by "they don't have" means they have something that does the same thing, just is not a kettle or toaster. It's a thing that looks like a kettle that is filled with water and then put on the stove to boil, no electric cable at all. And to make toast, put your slices of bread in the toaster oven, which is a very miniture version of a real oven but sits in the counter. Incidentally, whilst the toaster oven takes a while to make toasts, it i very handy for heating up other things like pizza slices and left overs you don't want the microwave to make soggy.

3. Driving. 

They drive on the wrong side of the road and sit on the wrong side of the car. And they drive too fast (which is saying something as a South African). 

4. Toilets. 

Whilst i'm not going to get into the details of bathroom etiquette and such, the toilet seats are weird. They have a gap at the front end which I originally thought was a feature for male bathroom seats (for obvious reasons), but these strange seats can be found in female bathrooms too... it's just plain weird. And the doors of the stalls open outwards. Maybe it's just me, but this seems weird too.

5. Pickles. 

They put them on EVERYTHING. And I mean everything. They are the side garnish for every meal, in each and every sandwich you order and come in about 700 billion different varieties. There is a entire section in the supermarket designated to them.  You even get banana pickles, they're yellow... obviously.

6. Preservatives. 

Also, like the pickles, they are in everything. Our bread and milk lasts 2 weeks. Which is a great cost saver and waste reducer, but it's also just not natural.

7. Corn. 

Almost as popular as pickles but in a different form. Cows are corn fed here, not grain fed. There is corn syrup in just about everything that tastes marginally sweet and when you buy meiles, they are either white or yellow (and are called corn on the cob, not meilies).

8. Shots. 

Every shot you order is basically a double. There is not such thing as a single shot which means there is no such thing as a headacheless morning the day after a party. Seriously, never ever order a double in America, you might die!

9. Beef jerky. 

It is not biltong, period.

10. Drive through ATM machines. 

They're genius and so handy. But i'm pretty sure it's self explanatory why SA doesn't have them. 

TOO MANY TOO'S/TWO'S!

I think it is safe to say that any iota of sanity my brain/body may have been clinging on to, has officially gone. The inability to move my legs this morning proves that. Maybe it is something in the water, maybe it is my own personal guilt rearing its ugly head or maybe it is my inherent fear of missing out that drives me to such lengths, whichever it may be (i'm going with the water), it must be stopped! To find myself crawling around the house ala Uma Thurman style, "wiggle your big toe", is really not a pretty sight. And the extent of the damaged is more like, "could anything below my belly button please twitch, yes? No?" And whilst I would like to say I have the patience to talk my limbs back into moving, don a sexy matching yellow tracksuit and blame everything on Bill, unfortunately there is only 1 idiot here, me! 

CHAPTER ONE: Killing the Cancer Sticks

This was done with great ease and panache. I woke up one morning, made a decision and the Gods made it happen. What actually happened was that  I was so sick one day that the sight of them made me so nauseous, they were completely dispensed with for what has now been 2 weeks. (Yippee!).  And whilst the ability to breath and taste has returned to 100% effectiveness, the brain is obviously still suffering the consequences of the years of tar and other unique ingredients these little evil sticks have to offer. Hence the decision.

CHAPTER TWO: The Decision

The decision was based on a number of factors previously listed above, namely the water. And with the new found ability to breath better it appeared to be a no brainer. So it was with these crucial aspects in mind that my brain convinced my fingers to begin the process of signing up for the P.A.L Half Marathon. It wasn't a difficult task either, with my obviously still malnourished brain leading the way from digital page to digital page and it's ability to retain numbers for the most important of occasions, the bank had my credit card details and I had an entry to the run! Without even getting off the couch (which I see now could have be a premonition of what was to come). 1 week to go, 1 half marathon entry and 4 months of non-existent training behind me... I was as calm as a hyperactive hamster on speed!

CHAPTER THREE: D-Day

4:30am on a beautifully cool Sunday morning, I hall my body (which at this stage can still move) out of the comfort of bed and commence the process that is ingrained in every runners head around the world, getting ready. As always, clothes, shoes and vaseline have been set out the night before in the order they will be put on, tied up and rubbed into. Car keys, cellphones, painkillers and emergency details have been carefully shrink wrapped to fit into the tiny runners sized secret pocket sewn into the waist band of shorts. One final once over and the experience of running begins. At this stage I am sure you are wondering why on earth I was up at 4:30 when the race only began at 6:35 and I will tell you. Firstly the race was in Boca Raton which is terms of distance from our safe haven is about a billion miles! Also, I wanted to give myself enough time to navigate the roads as the Americans drive on the wrong side of the road and car and the Floridians are just plain bad drivers. And last but not least, my brain wanted to get there before my limbs woke up so there was no possible way of backing out.

CHAPTER FOUR: The Race

All signed up, chip and number attached in the correct places and shivering in the utter blackness that was the start, we began. 21.1kms in the distance I could see my pancakes and syrup waiting. 18kms in the distance with lungs as fresh as daisies, my legs turned to concrete. And trust me, dragging 2 out of shape, concrete legs through 18kms of repetitive scenery is about as much fun as playing marco polo with a great white. Agonising and with little sign that you may in fact win the game. It was at about this point that my brain realized it's gigantic miscalculation of the events and gave me 2 options. Either stop and be ridiculed or continue and lie about your finishing time. Brilliant, the voice of reason has spoken once again and once again, a decision was made. Just keep running Crazii, and look at the bright side, at least you can breath! 

CHAPTER FIVE: The Finish

Finally with the end in sight and the vision of pancakes drenched in syrup returning, I turned the corner of the 20km marker to see the face and reinforcement of Prince Charming glowing in the morning sunlight! Whoopppeee! With a promise that the finish line was just around the next corner I gathered what strength I had left and dragged those concrete limbs over the finish line in a time of 2:02:02.  My second worse half marathon time and a lesson to my over zealous brain. TOO little time, way TOO little training and something never TO be repeated again! 

I STARTED RUNNING AGAIN... WELL SORT OF.

It all started when we arrived in Florida and the guilt from not running for a month started eating away at me. Literally would have been lovely as it would have gotten rid of those lovely extra kilo's i've been carry consisting of cider, ribs and some interesting take on biltong only the Americans can do, called Jerky. But no, literally was not to be, rather more mentally as I was starting to feel very unfit and rather heavy. So I signed up for a 5km charity run and thought the best way to deal with this guilt would be to tackle it head on by making this 5km run a personal time trial. No easing back into it, no leisurely pace... light a fire cracker and run. Whilst this in not necessarily a very bad idea, it turns out it was maybe not the greatest considering only the day before I had  been given a flu shot, a tetnis injection, a TB jab and had copious amounts of my blood removed from my body (only to be replaced by numerous pints of cider) all in the name of immigration.

So you can imagine my surprise when I woke up the day of the run, with the flu! And possibly TB and lock jaw, but who's to say. And to add insult to injury and an already bruised and battered body,  faithful Mother Nature had made sure it was a perfect Florida winter's day. A cool 75 degrees fahrenheit with as little possible respite in the form of a breeze as possible! At this point, my confidence in the fact that surely I can run 5kms, had disappeared. Along with any possibility of escaping the madness as I was already standing in the 25 line deep masses to begin.

An interesting fact to note quickly before I continue my tirade is, that in America before each race they actually semi seed you into groups. 5 minute milers (WTF) up ahead and so on. So carefully placed at the back of the bunch, already losing half my body weight in fluid, we began! AAAHHH! seriously, what have I done!!! It's boiling, my limbs feel like lead and the small amount of oxygen I may be able to inhale is being used to try and rid my system of the germs given to me the previous day. Not good when you're trying to set a pace for a time trial! To say it was an uncomfortable run would be to compare having an anvil dropped on your head as having a mild headache. It was torture! But I suppose time trials usually are!

24 minutes and 33 seconds later I found a little peice of heaven. The finish line, some juice and a small patch of grass I could lie and write my last will and testament (assuming I could open my eyes).  It was over, and by george I have never been so happy to see the end of a run. You know your fitness has taken an island holiday millions if miles away from you when 5kms becomes your conquering Mount Everest. However, slowly but surely I regained my personality and blood supply to all limbs and smiled. At least I finished in under 30 minutes. I'm pretty sure my running family would have disowned me if this wasn't the case :-)

As it turns out, finishing wasn't even the best part. I won a prize. I know, I also fell over when I heard... but it's true. It true American style, I was awarded a 3rd place win for my age group, and the leader was only 8 seconds in front of me! And the prize... A Pint Glass! I'm starting to like America more and more!  So with my new found love of winning... I mean running... I have studeously kept up the training thus far and even thrown in a bit of cycling for good measure. (Yes, Thunder, our building does have one of those bikes you can sit on and read your book). But hey... it's a start!

LADY LUCK

Lady Luck and I have always had a tenuous relationship at best. So it was no real surprise when Prince Charming and I landed at the airport to start our whirlwind trip around the world that we had no luck at all with the baggage handlers and pleading dyslexia fell completely on deaf eyes. My sorry attempt to convince the glorified trolley dolly that in fact my bag weighs 24kgs when actually it rings in at around 42kgs was having no effect at all. Batting eyelids and smiling sweetly was doing nothing to charm the young Hitler in training so I felt the need to resort to reason... Never ever do this at an airport, EVER.

ME: Okay, how about we buy another seat, that way we can have the baggage allowance of that seat?

Hitler in Training: I'm afraid you can't do that.

ME: Why not?

HIT: It's against the rules.

ME: Well could we chat to the person who wrote the rules?

HIT: I'm afraid he's dead.

ME: And it doesn't strike you as odd you are still applying rules written by a dead guy who possibly lived in the dark ages.

HIT: (confusion reigns)...

ME: Nevermind. How about this... You see that guy over there, he weighs in at at least 100kgs. How about you give me my 42kg bag as possible flab I may put on over the next few years and we'll call it quits.

HIT: Ma'am, that's impossible. You have an overweight bag which we have to charge for.

ME: Yes, but he is overweight all by himself, are you going to charge him for being fat??? Can you see no reason man!!!

(At this point Prince Charming steps in to calm his frazzled wife and reasons with the young Hitler in the only universal language)

PC: Okay, in the interest of sparring your eyeballs and my wife's sanity, how much is this going to cost?

And it was with that one sentence that we were so thankful our actual tickets only cost the price of flat screen TV and the over-weight cost was the price of the villa that TV might go into one day!

Needless to say, this episode would repeat itself 3 times before we were to land and Lady Luck finally registered us on her radar. You see, currently we find ourselves in the wonderfully sun-filled region of Florida where we have decided to settle for the next 6 months. As luck would have it, this was one of the easiest and quickest decisions we have had to make. Firstly, we were flying down to see family and friends and I was fully prepared with the speech of reason for the check-in counter lady when it became null and void. She looked at us, checked our passports, mentioned that we were in fact relocating a large african continent worth of clothing and proceeded to smile, issue our tickets and bid us farewell. YAY! Some pizza and ice-cream later, we landed in Florida to find we had a stunning apartment available to us and would we like to rent it. YES! A quick "surprise, we're here" introduction to Prince Charming's wonderful mother and our plans were laid and set within hours. 

So it is with this news that New York can have her freezing cold winter and we will return to see her in all her glory in the springtime when the blossoms and sunshine allow her to shed her winter coat and smile in all her sparkling summer beauty.

NEW YORK, NEW YORK

Okay, so a week in the beautiful town of Howth proved just what the doctor ordered. After boarding our wonderful flight to Abu Dhabi both Prince Charming and myself started having the inevitable sniffles that only airplane air-conditioning systems can bring. With the help of some wonderful days in Howth, Dublin CBD and a country outing into Wexford we were right as rain for a last leg of the journey to New York City. However before the inevitable farewells began we were treated to a true Irish shindig in celebration of our marraige. Wonderful people, delicious food and broadway musical renditions of some old favourites, the night was fantastic and one for the memory banks! A fond farewell was said to Ireland and an excited couple boarded the plane for the final leg of the journey to New York City!

WOW! Okay, you'll have to bare with me here for a while because there are very few words that can actually describe the pulse of a city like New York. Firstly, after landing we took our lives into our hands by getting into one of the famous (and infamous) NYC yellow cabs. With our small african country's worth of luggage we held our breath as we speedily weaved our way from JFK airport into Manhattan over 59th Street Bridge. Now there is nothing that quite prepares you for your first sight of New York City. It literally rises imposingly in front of you from out of no-where, looks you dead in the eye and quashes all preconceived ideas you may have had of it based on movies and your own personal imagination. Imagine for a moment being stared down by pack of hungry alaskan wolves. Now translate that into hundreds of highrise buildings all showcasing what they have to offer, where they are located in the city that nevers sleeps and how much taller and more imposing each one is to the other. Now put yourself in that picture... feels like being eaten by a pack of wolves. You are tiny, you are in the busiest, most franatic, continously moving city in the world. It smells like the busiest kitchen in the universe might smell if it was cooking with elbow grease, paprika, diesel and good old American enthusiam! It engulfs you, seeps into your pores, re-calibrates the beats within the core of your heart and then releases you to your own devices. You smile, you glow, you look up and continually asses your size, you spin yourself in circles trying to take everything in and then finally you realise: You're in New York City Baby!

It smells like childhood dreams, tastes like the last perfect bite of your favourite meal and feels like the hugs your grandfather used to give you when you came over to save him from gran and her bridge friends! It sings your favourite songs into your ears, tells you all the jokes that make you laugh and reminds you it's amazing to be alive. And the people... they move like the beat of a drum. They are the rythmn that flows between the forest of buildings like an electric current getting as quickly and efforlessly from point A to point B. They never stop. The city is always bright, there is never a permanent evening, only a beautiful evening glow the presides over the city like the gods suggesting it may be time to sleep but that's up to you! It's wonderful, amazing, far beyond expectations and nothing short of breathtaking. It's New York City Baby! 

New York, concrete jungle where dreams are made of
There’s nothing you can’t do
Now you’re in New York
These streets will make you feel brand new
Big lights will inspire you
Hear it for New York, New York, New York

LASTS AND A WEE BIT OF IRELAND

A lot has happened over the last few weeks; as i'm sure you can gather from the tardiness in my writing; and for this I must apologise.  Since real work has ended there seems to have been a hundred and one things to achieve that take an inordinate amount of time and I find myself looking at the clock at 10pm and wondering where exactly the day has disappeared to. Whilst I will not bore you with the inevitable doctors appointments are cheerful staff at both home affairs and the traffic department (please note the vast amount of sarcasm linked with that sentence), I do want to tell you about the wonderful "lasts" I have had over the past few weeks.

Firstly, (and I have managed to maintain this for a consecutive 3 days) I have officially had my last hangover on South African soil (and at this rate the planet's!). After the wonderfully special shindig the parents threw over the course of the weekend, Prince Charming and I found ourselves amongst a group of fantastic friends and a very good party ahead of us indeed. Roll around Sunday and the inevitable hangover in the post (express delivery I believe), we managed to equalize the evening of dancing with a day firmly ensconced on the couch. SA Hangover - done!

We got our final cultural fix too when we spent our final day on the actual soil of SA basking in the wonderful beauty and sunlight that is Kirstenbosch botanical gardens. Friends and family were there to bid us farewell in true picnic style with champagne, cheese and biscuits and fond stories of the past few years we had together. Jokes and smiles abounded as we try desperately to avoid the inevitable tears that came with sundown and goodbyes. As we left the wonderful mountain and friends behind us, Prince Charming and I couldn't help but smile with excitement at what lay ahead of us in the next 24 hours.... If we had known what was actually coming we may have been crying too :)

Cue (hopefully our last) 27 hours of travelling, an exorbitant fee for over weight luggage (yours truly of course) and some very grumpy plane passengers to begin our life  changing trip to New York. First port of call, Johannesburg - The City of Gold. Or in our case the city we had to sit in, on a crowded plane, for 2 hours while waiting for some... more passengers, more cheerful staff, Elvis... I still can't tell you which but I can report unfortunately no Elvis sighting! Needless to say, we finally left Egoli rammed to the rafters with passengers on the long and arduous trip to Abu Dhabi.  A brief 2 hour stop in Abu Dhabi where I can report that city to be full of lights and that's it! We landed at some ungodly hour of the morning where usually we would be awake dancing, however alas we were awake grumpy. Thankfully that stop over wne twithout a hitch and we got back onto the plne for our last and final haul in Dublin. And what a flight... half the plane was empty so the inevtable 6 hour long movie marathon was discarded in favour of a 6 hour long nap across the plane seats, whoohooo!

Finally we set foot on Irish soil, collected our bags (of which there were numerous) and filled our over full tummies with some real Irish Breakfast. For all of those who know, or don't know, what is included in an Irish breakfast, forgive me for a minute. Black Pudding, really??? Ugh. Prince Charming was rather amused with my facial expressions when said breakfast piece arrived and proceeded to tell me it tastes exactly like boerewors. Well, if that's the case, yum. NOT! It tastes nothing like boerewors and never will. And when you find out what's it's made of, it makes hagas taste like chocolate cake! 

A quick shower and the decision to sleep was quickly overruled in favour of a lovely amble around the beautiful sea side town of Howth. Now for any of you who have never been to Howth (of which I assume is numerous) the town looks a lot like Hout Bay minus the bergies and scary fishmen. What is does have is a beautiful harbour and pier, noisy seagulls and a lovely air of community. Some fresh air and Prince Charming and I were ready for a celebratory class of champers. Or 20! Yip, what Howth also has is a wonderful community of people who all know each other and were ready to celebrate with the newly married couple!  7 bottles of the delicious Italian Prosecco, and few pints at the local Pub and a delicious home cooked meal, we saw our first day in Ireland in true Irish Style!

THE BEGINNING OF LASTS...

Arg, so I ran a half marathon this weekend! Believe me, I am asking myself the same question too, why? Originally it seemed like quite a good idea as it was going to be my last time on the trot with my running club and we had grand ideas of pulling off a mass finish amidst a flurry of cheers as we crossed the finish line to the glorious notes of Chariots of Fire! NO. There was fire, just not in the graceful sense originally envisioned. My lungs (which I now know have not fully recovered from my lovely bought of death flu) bypassed the “Let’s ache a little so she knows what she’s doing to us” and went straight for the “If you don’t refrain from this insane sport of yours immediately we will be forced to burst into flames and evacuate your chest cavity forth with!” Ouch would be a euphemism. Bother this really hurts would be a euphemism. To say I was cursing like a sailor… yip, euphemism too! And to add insult to injury, it was lashing rain. Internal inferno and external hypothermia… I know, I couldn’t imagine why someone would do it either! However, having said all of the above (as friends and family can attest I always do), it was bleeding marvelous! Thunder put it into perspective:

Thunder Struck: Why you walking like a penguin?
Me: Ran a half marathon this morning.
TS: Why?
Me: Was the last run with the running family.
TS: So you thought you would ease back into running after a 4 week break and pneumonia with a 21km run in the rain?
ME: Pretty much!
TS: Riiiiiiighttttt…

I do have a tendency to rush back into running because a) I really like it b) it’s the guilt for not having done it for so long and c) there’s usually a group breakfast involving pancakes which just cannot be missed! And whilst I do like to complain and over exaggerate the weather conditions (I swear we were in a hurricane with flying cows everywhere), I love the runs and the crowd and the scenery and am going to miss everything so much when we leave. When you suddenly realize you are doing something for the last time, it becomes something bigger than itself and very important to you. Am whist I’m not going to bore you with the nerves and stories of me counting all “my lasts” in SA, I am going to say a big thank you to my wonderful running family for being there for that last and for supporting me always.

Thank you guys!

SOMETHING OLD, SOMETHING NEW, SOMETHING BORROWED, SOMETHING BLUE

There is an old saying that goes “No news is good news”, meaning that when one hears nothing, then nothing bad can essentially be happening. This rings very true for me over the last few weeks as I have adopted the well practiced art of radio silence and arranged my life as calmly and quietly as possible. However, at some stage the bubble must burst and the news gets out, so let me apologize first hand if you did not hear it from me! But smile, because the news is good and happy and wonderful and everything that life should be!

To all my wonderful friends and family, I can officially announce on these here pages that my Prince Charming is in fact my Husband! He is every bit as wonderful as those fairy tales we all read when we were young and far better looking! (It’s at this point in the story I want you all to take a breath and relax, breath in, breath out etc etc). I can imagine this comes as a shock to some as in some circles I am known as the Anti-Christ of Marriage and I can appreciate the total lack of belief, but believe me, it is all true and my mind has been forever changed by the fact that I did indeed find The One.

We were married on Saturday August 7th 2010 at 11am at The 12 Apostles Hotel in Cape Town. The ceremony was extremely low key and perfect. Pint Size and Thunder were there to give me away and cry respectively, while Prince Charming was accompanied by his best man and ring bearer. Champagne and happiness surrounded a day where I can categorically say I have never been happier! We have officially been married for 12 days and it feels like the best dream in the world! I love being married. It's so great to find one special person you want to annoy for the rest of your life ;-)

For the ladies out there I wore the following:

• Something old: Favourite long black dress
• Something new: Stunning black velvet peep toe stiletto’s
• Something borrowed: Hairclips from Thunder
• Something blue: A magnificent blue and purple rose in my hair

The next few weeks are packed with excitement and fun as we say goodbye to friends and family, see the things in SA we’ve always wanted to but just haven’t got around to organising and packing for the imminent move. Smile Peeps, life is good!

FINALLY SOME NEWS

Apologies to all for the radio silence and thank you to all for the continual requests to write! I have been slightly busy of late re-organising my life and putting some exceptionally exciting plans in motion. However I have a bit of breathing room at the moment and am ready to spill half the bean pot… Yes Peeps, the rumours are true, this Crazii Redhead has finally got her ass in gear and is moving to The Big Apple, The City that Never Sleeps… New York! And I’m not going alone either, my Prince Charming is taking the leap with me and we’re going to start a new life together in one of the world’s most exciting cities!

Before we embark on the epic journey that is New York, we will of course be spending time in Cape Town and Johannesburg with family and friends. A few parties will be had, not withstanding the annual Crazii Redhead clothing and shoe party where everything that hasn’t been worn in a period of 6 months must go! All ladies invited, men only after a good few hours of bubbles and girl banter! On the way, we’ll be stopping into Dublin and London to say hello and goodbye to important people in our lives and finally we’ll set down in The Big Apple for the next big adventure!

Important dates to bear in mind:

12th September 2010 – Pint Size’s Party
17th September 2010 – Crazii Redhead Annual Cleanout Party
19th September 2010 – Crazii and Prince Charming head to Dublin
26th September 2010 – Crazii and Prince Charming head to New York!

There will be more news in the days to come I promise. But in the interim if you have comments, contacts or just want to drop a note, please post!

Hugs all!

REACTIONS TO NEWS

Usually when you spring big news on people who would have expected to be hit by an iceberg before they heard what you’re about to say, they react in 3 ways:

1) Loud screaming followed by tears (usually happy)
2) Loud screaming followed by a beating (not good)
3) Pensive silence while they eye you up and down trying to figure out if it’s April 1st or not.

Thank heavens when I spilled the beans to Thunder, Pint Size and the GBF I was met with 150% reaction 1. Inevitably after the initial shock, they all swung into reaction version 3 thereby playing devils advocate and continually thinking they must be sitting in a Stanley Kubrick movie (“Something weird is happening here”). But fair play to them all, there was no malicious beating or archaic methods of torture for holding back such pertinent information, purely rational questioning and the occasional “OMG, I can’t believe it!” squells.

Now while I’m sure you’re all dying to hear what this news is, I have to I’m afraid keep the suspense going a little longer. You see, as both the Parents are out of modern communication range, they have yet to hear the news either. And I honestly think it would be both unfair and nasty to tell you all before I get to sit down face to face with them and explain everything.

So hold your breath a little longer Peeps, all shall be revealed soon…

TIME

Time. The intangible element that governs all things on this planet. When you need it, it speeds up; when you don’t, it slows down. It’s infuriating at the best of times (har har) and is just so annoyingly consistent that you wish you could alter or PVR it just for a second. Hold that moment in time when your breath was taken away, that smile that lit up your day, the moment just before the sunset… the list is endless. But, as science and religion can both attest to, you cannot. You either ignore the fact that is it there or try your damndest to make sure you fitted everything into life that you wanted to!

This is where I am now… making massive, exciting life changing decisions about work, relocation, 1 man and how many shoes I can pack! And honestly, it was tentively thought about for the last 6 months, that’s it. But 4 magical weeks ago an innocent conversation over the bar turned into the path I have been looking for my entire (26 years) tenure on this planet. At that moment the only way to explain it is this “you know when you just know that something in life is exactly what you want and you just have to follow it no matter where it takes you. Well I just know, and that’s where I’m going”. And Time, how do you think he feels about all of this, doesn’t give a rats ass!

So now begins the usual 6 month planning process of informing everyone, finding a new job, apartment, deciding what size suitcase to pack, meeting the friends and family and pretty much redrawing the canvas that has been life for the past 26 years. All in 6 weeks! And the kicker… I COULDN’T BE MORE EXCITED ABOUT ANYTHING!

When the details are all finalized, I promise to be less vague and give you a full update of what, when, where, how and with whom. Until then… smile with me!

I LIED...

I lied… the party never ends. This point was proven with fierce determination last night. The Perpetual Student, Thunder, The Jetsetter and I decided we’d had enough testosterone for a while and set about invading our favourite pizza restaurant with good old fashion pheromones and high pitch voices. Cue bubbles, boy talk, some pizza and more boy talk for a long overdue schmooze and bitch session, political banter and general all round good fun! With the voice levels rising exponentially in direct proportion to the alcohol consumption, a very good time was had all round.

As my name sake suggests, the lack of sanity coupled with the increased level of bubbles in my system, a decision was made to go throw name on a dance floor with Pint Size! Cue The Local up the road, a few tasty jaegerbombs and some stiff bum shaking on the dance floor. With the bewitching hour fast approaching and the remaining sanity slowly seeping away with the night a decision was made to make like a Shepard and get the flock outta there. Cue our very own personal body guard, a guided walk home and dreams of the Grease moves pulled on the dance floor.

Or where they only dreams… arg!

THE END

I found out this morning that apparently that party does end… and it’s a rather abrupt ending. My story goes like this:

*BEEEEEEEEEP* BEEEEEEEEEP* BEEEEEEEEPP*
Me: WTF?
*BEEEEEEEEEP* BEEEEEEEEEP* BEEEEEEEEPP*
Me: Oh Crap…
*BEEEEEEEEEP* BEEEEEEEEEP* BEEEEEEEEPP*
Me: okay, enough already I’m up!
SMACK!
Me: Ouch, that was my foot you “#$%^&” bed
THWACK!
Me: Arg, really, I left those there last night?
GDONK!
Me: Wow, I’m pretty sure that door wasn't there before???

And this is all before I have put my running kit on and hit the tar! Word of warning, do not binge smoke and drink for 3 weeks while ill and then think you can run double digit kms without any recourse. During the hours of 5:30am and 7am this morning I managed to lose a lung, cause severe discomfort to my calves, back and quads and pretty much electroshock my body into running again… bad bad idea! I am now currently sitting at my desk without the ability to walk and breathe, dying for the bathroom and actually frightened about 5pm rolling around because it will involve me moving more than just my arms and mouth!

Ah, the joys of being back on the road again! Time trial tomorrow morning, can’t wait!

THE ROAD GOES ON FOREVER AND THE PARTY NEVER ENDS

As much as I would like to apologies for my absence on these here digital pages and give a very valid excuse as to why I have not had time to write, I’m afraid I have no reasons other than the truth. My liver and lungs went on a massive binge session together about 2 weeks ago, obviously had a big falling out over something and I now find myself at the end of what has been an extremely interesting fortnight.

Liver: Let’s go out a have a drink.
Lungs: Okay, but only one and we’re not playing “flirt with the smoker”
Liver: Boring… why do you always have to be such a kill joy.
Lungs: Because if I’m not working neither are you.
Liver: Right, fair enough.

Needless to say, they both embraced my new found singledom with the fervour and energy of a small child on chocolate, proceeded to party like the rock stars they were in their previous lives and leave the rest of my body helpless and without the ability to move. Cue 1 week on the couch, Christian Troy’s devilishly handsome derrière and my lungs and liver never to be seen together again.

Thankfully, I am officially on the mend, 1 lung has sheepishly returned with a whisper of when I may expect the other, however I daresay he is still seeking asylum somewhere very far away from my liver. I am unfortunately back in the world of reality which means doing real work things like TPS reports and hanging around the water cooler, which at this stage pales in comparison to stalkbook and pretending to work while having sumo wrestlers hanging off your eyelids!

But alas, It’s Monday Peeps, the fight resumes with renewed vigour and I promise, more updates, less hangover induced injuries.

Yay! Aaahhh...

Travelling, yay! Delayed, aaahhh… Meeting friends, yay! Family coming too, aaahhh… But going on holiday, yay! Going to lose a day because delayed, aaahhh... This is a game The Cousin plays with everything in life in general. And this is how I currently feel about my travelling element to work. I like traveling, when it entails me getting to the destination to enjoy the journey. This is not currently so with work. Although The Big Smoke is better than say, going to Mongolia, it is currently putting a very large damper on my romantic and social life with local family and friends, aaahhh… However, as I do have family and another extensive group of friends in The Big Smoke, I am never sitting on my ace wishing I was in Mongolia, yay! That being said however, I do spend an unimaginable amount of time in airports. And by airports I mean McGinty’s in Jozi and Rhapsody’s in Cape Town. I think the barmen even recognizes me because I always get a “complimentary Savannah” as I arrive, yay! But I do end up consuming enough to outway that complimentary 10-1, aaahhh. Anyway, I digress…

The point of this little rant is that I am always delayed. Aaahhh... Always, aaahhh... And it never comes with a Business Class upgrade, aaahhh... Can you see where this is going??? I always end up sitting alone, having just dropped half a bar at Exclusive Books (because I do have a problem, I feel the same way about books as I do about shoes, need I say more) and consuming my body weight in carbo filled cider.

And right now is no different. 2 Savanna’s down, a 2 hour delay ahead of me and a declined credit card at Exclusive Books I feel the only think to say is, aaahhh…

AYOBA!!!

Okay wow, I am still totally blown away. As a non sport fan and pretty much useless human when to comes to having any knowledge about any sport bar running, I have been transformed! On Friday night I was at Soccer City! The awesomeness of the place is just completely indescribable. 84 000 people, all essentially Ghanaen fans, 2 successful and epic mexican waves and one seriously momentous game of football. There was screaming, there was joy and finally there were tears… but regardless of the outcome, it was incredible. I am proud to be South African!

Roll on Saturday and a day spent in the depths of Soweto throwing name and voice on the dance floor in the most awesome Shebeen around! Being white, we obviously blended right into a crowd of lets say 100 completely ecstatic and enthusiastic faces! We danced, we braaied, we talked a lot of crap and somewhere in between we managed to scream and shout for the shared teams that had brought us together in the first place!

So well done Germany and Spain, but a huge well done and thank you to South Africa! We ROCK!

HAPPY FRIDAY PEEPS!

I’ve been told that I’m rather scary at times. This usually said to me in a casual environment over a few glasses of bubbles and me in casual clothes. The conversation usually goes like this:

Person 1: Wow, I can’t believe you can do casual.
Me: What?
P1: When I first met you, you were really scary!
Me: How?
P1: Well you were all corporate woman like and I thought you probably had a whip down your stockings.
Me: Oh wow, that’s really sweet, but no I’m not actually that scary unless it calls for it.
P1: And when does it usually call for it?
Me: If you meet me on site in casual clothes, I’d say you should start praying.
P1: F*CK.

So you must understand my current state. I have been on site all week, working with The City Beneath the Mountain suppliers who pretty much have “waka waka” between their heads and nothing else. My patience is non existent, my quads are still aching and my hot physio is MIA. This I’m pretty sure has something to do with Wednesday’s session and me saying something to the effect of impending doom should he feel the need to ever mention or in fact try and put my on that bicycle contraption ever again! I now contend with the very sweet receptionist who feels the need to apologize for Hot Physio’s lack of appearance but assures me each session is for the benefit of my running future and would I mind even so much if I could stop screaming and chasing all other client’s away.

Receptionist: Crazii please, just get on the bike and finish your session.
Me: ARE YOU MAD! That thing was made by the devil without a sense of humour!
Receptionist: Please Crazii, just get on.
Me: Listen up People. All of you who are here for Glucox Eccentric Training stand up!
Crowded Room: *nobody stands*
Me: You see, look what you and that machine have done. These poor people can’t even stand, how do you expect them to resist that machine???

At this point a very sweet woman walks over to me and tells me it’s her first session and how bad is it really. I explain to her in detail the process involved, the endurance calculator and torque metre, the strength training gauge and the firey inferno that starts gripping your upper quads and just before she passes out I manage to slip in that there’s actually no need to worry, I have a better solution. With the blood returning to her face, she perks up hugely and emits a sigh of relief.

Half an hour later we’re sitting at the bar together over a glass of bubbles under the guise that the sparkiling wine of South Africa has energizing qualities due to the fermentation process and there’s absolutely no need to torture one’s self on a bike when drinking champers re-energizes with less agony and definitely more sparkle!

Happy Friday Peeps!

GO BAFANA GO!

Now that the pain has subsided and I am actually able to speak again, let alone walk, I have a very large bone to pick with my hot physio! WTF were you thinking putting me on that wretched machine. Seriously, when I asked if this would make me stiff and you said maybe, what you should have said was: “No, not stiff, agonizingly painful to such an extent that your body will immediately age 50 years, you will lose the ability to walk let alone walk up and down stairs and all words that exit your mouth will be of the profane variety!”. Nobody is hot enough to get away with this and when I see him again tomorrow for my third and what is known as “getting used to” session there will be words!

On a lighter note and a subject I have not really touched on since the whole process started, The World Cup. Although I have not watched any games save for the opening game where we did out damdest against Mexico, I am very proud to be South African at the moment. The general vibe and gees around Johannesburg and Cape Town is amazing let alone the copious numbers of seriously friendly (and often rather cute) foreigners! Barring the very unusual traffic jams in Cape Town, I have not heard a bad thing said about us as a host country and I challenge anyone to try!

I believe Bafana Bafana are playing today and we need something short of a miracle to get through into the second round. This said, miracles have been known to happen and all I can say is “GO BAFANA GO!” Blow those Vuvuzelo’s Peeps, feel it, it is here!

ECCENTRIC, ME? PFFT!

So now that I am officially back to reality, I actually have to pay attention to the details of my life that need assistance ie: my knee (and my French I have decided, but that is another story). So as the diligent, non selfish runner that I am, I took myself off to “The Knee Guy” (note the element of sarcasm, I was pretty much bound and gagged by the physio). Wow was he a ball of laughs! (The Knee Guy, my actual physio is wonderful.)

The Knee Guy: So, where do you have pain?
Me: Ummm…. (panic eyes setting in, check label on door, yip definitely in the right place), my knee?
TKG: Yes, which one?
Me: Ah, right, the left one.
TKG: (pulling and shifting and doing whatever he was doing) any of this hurt?
Me: Well if I was an elastic band, maybe not, but as it would have it, YES!
TKG: Okay, I think you need an MRI
Me: Wow, you’re a genius, that’s what I thought I was here for…

20 minutes under a machine that you have to sit deathly still in, otherwise your images come up looking like one of my cake disasters, my results come in.

TKG: Wow, there’s a lot of inflammation around the Patella and ITB joint. You could have lsdkjflsjflsjkflkjaslkfjlskjf…………
Me: Excuse me, anglais s’il vous plait?
TKG: No running for 2 months and eccentric strength training for 8 weeks, 3 times a week.
Me: Is that for my personality or my knee?
TKG: Here’s your script, physio is upstairs.
Me: Right, bye Mr Cheerful.

And upstairs I trot (literally running up the stairs as my way of being very adult about this whole process and sticking my tongue out at the man downstairs) to meet my physio.

Me: Hello, I’m here to see my physio.
Receptionist: Okay, please take a seat, he’ll be out shortly.
Me: *SWOON* Helllllooooooo….
Hot Physio: Hello Miss Crazii, what can I do for you today?
Me: Hmmm. Well if you really want to know… ummm, I mean, script, dude downstairs, something about being Crazii?
HP: Ah yes, eccentric strength training.
ME: that’s the one.
HP: Right, come with me
Me: With the greatest of pleasure…

And then he put me on a bicycle…

Me: WTF???
HP: What you have to do is resist the momentum of the bicycle.
Me: Why?
HP: Because it will strengthen the muscles around the knee cap and quads so we can get you out of here and back on the road.
Me: Well firstly I don’t really want to leave and I’ve never given up on the road.
HP: So you’re still running then?
Me: yeeeesssss…..
HP: You know that will hamper your progress and you will be here for longer?
Me: Perfect, how much mileage a week will keep me here until I’ve met your mom?
HP: Right, I can see you’re going to be one of “those” patients…
Me: By those you mean the one you want to take home to meet your mother?
HP: No, buy those I mean difficult.
Me: Let’s call me eccentric and see where that gets us…

Needless to say I peddled, or in fact resisted peddling for the duration of the session and am due back again on Saturday. I think this might be the first time I’m excited to be on a bicycle in spandex, sweating.

JE SUIS DE RETOUR!

I’m home!!! Wow has this been the most epic of 2 weeks ever! Not only have I been in The Big Smoke all this time, but I have also eaten dinner at the most beautiful of restored decommissioned power stations, viewed and held William Kentridge, Pablo Picasso and Braque; watch Bafana Bafana open The World Cup in style at Miriam Makeba Fan Park; traveled to the airport on The Gautrain and literally built, furnished and made miracles with a team of the most incredible people this planet has to offer! Jozi has been insane. In true Big Smoke style, not a lot of sleep was had, much work was achieved and intimate never to be repeated experiences were had!

To begin, I arrived to have dinner at what I view as one of the most beautiful buildings of our time. Turbine Hall, as it’s name sake suggests, used to be a power station that has now become a conference and fine dining venue. Our dinner was held in what used to be the basement and what is now a luxurious space in between the original turbines. Jazz music surrounded the space and we ate and drank food befitting our glorious setting. And to add true style to the evening, our table decided the theme of the night was “High Rollers” ala classic 50’s style… to say we looked sexy and stylish would be the understatement of the year!

The next epic adventure was the beginning of what I fondly term “Project Mayhem”. My big, huge, ginormous, frighteningly large installation began with a fervor of late trucks, misguided delivery vans, friendly painters and electricians and one woman trying to manage it all. Monday morning started with a bang with Stuttafords arriving spot on time with furniture for a 30 room house… except with one rather large problem. The house still unfinished and unpainted could not in a million years yet accommodate what will eventually turn out to be it’s beautiful internal dressing. Not a chance, not on Monday and by the looks of things, not for a good few days. Never mind the late carpets stuck in customs somewhere, the lost electrical switches and the wallpaper destined to join us from China of all places. Wooosssaaa being the word of the day we began what became the longest, tiring and fulfilling 14 hours, 14 days solid workathon!

In between I managed to get on the back of a few horses (literally for all those filthy minds out there), be part of the new concept of “Date Night Thursday”, watch the girliest (and I might say rather disappointing) Sex and The City 2 with one of the coolest chicks around and eat my body weight in wonderful home cooked meals nearly every morning and evening!

Some pics below of the awesomeness that was the opening of the world cup (and yes were were all dressed in overalls that said BAFANA; blowing vuvuzelo’s and acting as one is allowed in times like these, as proper soccer hoolligans) and bidding my farewell to The Big Smoke in True London Style. It only took us 40 years, but well done Jozi, The Gautrain is awesome!

There are so many details I am leaving out which I will in due course extrapolate on, with my mind reeling I’m afraid, that’s all for now. Any questions/comments are always warmly and eagerly anticipated!

Hello City beneath the Mountain, Crazii is home and happy!

IT'S OFFICIAL!

Okay, so it’s official, all the talking about it and moaning about it and saying, phew, that’s miles away… is now right here. World cup is in 12 days! Which means, the completion of my most hectic, biggest, most amazing, frightening, enlightening and time consuming installation is due to be complete in 10 days! AAAHHH! I have completely by-passed the notion of panic and headed directly for the real of “What the F*CK!”. Breathing, thinking and actually planning and fulfilling those plans have become a fantasy that I can only dream about, Real life has hit like a ton of bricks and boy does it not give a giant shit about planning! The paperwork involved in organising something of this magnitude is tantamount to chopping down The Amazon, 5 times. Not withstanding the carbon emissions used to actually make the tree’s paper to be printed on and then, obviously THROWN AWAY. Does now one know how to read anymore!!!! Seriously!

Anyway, the point is I am now officially in for The Big Snmoke for 2 weeks. 2 weeks Peeps… 2 cold weeks of unpacking boxes, fixing skirting chips, re-wiring electrical points, making nice with suppliers and putting lavedar bags on pillows. It’s that time, finally… and boy am I EXCITED!!! In just 10 days time we will get to look back on this finished product and think “We did this!”. And not only did we do it, we completed a 6 month renovation and interior design spectacle in 9 weeks! Woo hoo! I’m going to be running around like a headless chicken for the next few weeks, excuse the lack of communication but I promise the pictures will be worth waiting for.

Happy Monday Peeps!

Oh, and BTW, for all of those who do not know, the Comrades was yesterday and my Running Family was superb. Well done to SuperMom, Running Mom, Adventure Queen, Sonic Hater and Eye Candy! I am so proud of you guys! SO PROUD!!!

GEES LOUISE!

Goodness, to say real work is getting in the way of the rest of my life would be a ginormous understatement. I haven’t run the whole week, gorged on pizza or even had a chance to read my candy flossy escapism. Getting to work and leaving work in the dark is reminiscent of living in London, which while I was there could be justified because of the wonderful exchange rate, but in CT it seems just ludicrous! Also, on top of everything I find myself waking up in the middle of the night wondering where the hell I am. The amount of travel and living out of a suitcase I have done (and continue to do) has made me feel more like a forgetful gypsy than a corporate woman. My once prized elephant memory has now been solely consumed with anything and everything surrounding work. The Chef and I apparently had a lovely conversation the other night after he came home from a dinner for about 45 minutes, cannot remember a thing. And I can’t even blame it on drugs… drugs are enjoyable, work not so much!


So for the time being I have said goodbye to my social lucidity and reserved what I have left for lazy/stupid/irrational/British/South African suppliers who seem to think “Rush Job” means “go and have a long lunch, enjoy a surf and pretty much mess around until after the due date”! Departing together with my rational sense has been both my patience and composure… Not a great skeleton left to be honest. And to add insult to injury, my body has given up all resistance against the always expected seasonal flu and succumbed. Pathetic!

So I’m afraid Peeps, this little pity party can’t even bring herself to say TGIF, as I’m back to work tomorrow and The Big Smoke at the crack of dawn on Sunday. Farewell Friends, Sanity and Lungs… I hope we meet again on my return sometime in June!

LOVE IS...

To digress slightly from the inane ramblings of the last few days and touch on a topic I know we all think about. Love. It has been a rather rollercoaster of a year for me in terms of love and the feelings and outcomes associated with this rather enigmatic and highly volatile emotion. The Cyclist and I broke up a year ago and I thought at that time that I would never in my life be able to breath or function again as a normal human being. The pain was so immense and consuming that to try and think of anything else was tantamount to being in the ring with Muhammad Ali, gloveless and without skills. To get myself off the kitchen floor (which became my safe haven) was one of the biggest challenges I could face at that stage. But I did. And I am here today, functioning and on the road to happiness. The lessons I have learnt in the past year have been hard, eye-opening and scary; but they have taught me about myself and how to poke fear and darkness in the eye with a teaspoon!

I have learnt to breath. One of the most fundamental things we humans do on a daily basis, but the first thing that becomes impossible when your heart is breaking. It seems as though taking in air when your brain has convinced your heart to give up all hope, is like trying to suck molasses through a straw. Although is can be done, the energy and concentration required to perform it is so extreme that your body just cannot do it on the reserve fuel it has just keeping you from stopping breathing all together. Breathing becomes something you have to consciously do, something you have to allot time to perform, otherwise the darkness comes and there is no escaping.

Time. I have learned not to wish time away. Not to say things like “please wake me up in 6 months when this will all be over”. Because it won’t, it will just extend the grieving period for even longer. Time is manageable and always keeps going. That’s its beauty, it is always moving forward and you can break it up into any number of imaginable segments just to manage. But don’t wish it away, each second that passes; painful, heartbreakingly agonizing and scary, is a second you can never get back and in that second that you wished away, you may have just wished away something that could make you smile.

I have learned to listen to my heart. She is always right and for as long as she is the one keeping me alive, I will listen to her until the end. My brain and heart are two very different animals. My brain is rational, she is structured and she performs her tasks with the cutting ability of a criminal lawyer. Her arguments are good on both sides, her research is always thorough and she does not live in the grey area. She is always right in a world of robots, non existent feeling and a flawless emotional justice system. I have learned that we do not live in this system; we live in a system fraught with grey areas and emotions. A world where emotion is what drives economies; greed, lust, power. My heart knows me; she knows every organ in my body; what they do, how efficiently they perform, and what makes them tick. She is the voice in the back of my head saying something that my brain can so easily ignore/rationalize/justify; but she is there and she does not desist until either she has been heard, or what she has said will happen has come to fruition. She is my guide.

Love is the one emotion that fuels all the others into being. It is easily translated into rage, fear, despair. It is the one each and every person seeks out to fulfill a need they may have. It is all around us on a daily basis; but always the most elusive to grasp. It comes in many forms, each unique to the individual, but often coveted under the auspicious that someone’s else’s can also been mine. It cannot. Love is personal, unique and powerful. Let it happen to you. Let it find you and fill you with the unimaginable joys and rewards it can bring. Open your heart to it when you are ready, take a deep breath in and thank the universe that you weren’t wasting time doing something else.

Love is… everything you think it can be and more.

PHEW!

Say it with me… Crisis Peeps, It’s Friday! Whoop whoop!

We made it. The disastrous nasty little week is over and we’re all heading for a weekend of fun fun fun. Thunder I know can barely keep her excitement in check because it’s GP weekend. (GP stands for Grand Prix for all those not in the know – including moi!). The Chef is pretty much in the same state as the Sharks and Stormers are fighting to the death on Sat (Go Stormers!) and I’m bouncing off the walls because a) I survived my first week back from leave and b) running a half marathon on Sunday where as opposed to a medal, you get a real live miniature tree! And c) have mothers day breakfast with the running family and mothers day lunch with the real family… so it’s a gastronomic fest all round!

I’m also due to fit some shopping in, some polite and elegant dinner conversation and sleep (bottom of the priority list at the moment!). Pint Size and Relax with Dax are coming round for dinner tonight to elaborate on the delectable qualities of wine cultivar and everything else that goes with those delicious fermented grapes we enjoy so much. Thunder and The Barman and joining the dinner on the basis that, although we don’t know how to talk about the wines, we certainly know how to consume them! And as is becoming to wonderful trend in my house, The Chef will be cooking for us all!

So a big cheers to everyone for this weekend ahead! And Happy Mothers day to all the mom’s out there who make our lives so special!

LUMPY HUMP DAY

I went for a run this morning. It was torture. Not the actual running bit, the bit where I had to actually extricate myself from the warmth and cosines that is my duvet and king-size bed. SuperMom and I decided we would run, last night. We also decided we would sms each other this morning to confirm said arrangement.

SuperMom sms: I can’t get out of bed!
Me sms: Me neither!
(both roll over and try go back to bed... the guilt eats away...)
Me sms: Right I’m up, your turn.
SuperMom sms: I’m up too, see you at the Pool!

Please bare in mind this all happened before the crack of dawn (5:25am), in a drizzly Cape Town winter morning. All clad in my winter running wollies (basically head to toe in thermal garments so that not so much as an ant could find it’s way onto any flesh) I meet SuperMom to find she’s in shorts. Shorts! Seriously! If you never knew why she was called SuperMom before, this is one of the very reasons!

So off we run into the sunrise for our 10km morning warm-up, to realize we’ve only run 8.5kms. Hmph! Hump Day is not going according to plan. On the plus side though, I do have a launch party at the new very chic “Twankey Oyster and Champage Bar” at the Taj Hotel… heaven in a shell and bottle combined!

                                                                        Cheers All!

NEVER EVER GO ON LEAVE!

Gees Louise, I wish my work week would go as fast as London went. I’ve only been sitting at my computer staring mindlessly at my 103 unanswered emails for 6 hours and already I feel like I’ve aged 50 years! I even received an email this morning to which I replied to about 5 minutes ago with “Good Morning”… The work Gods are not smiling down on me. Or perhaps, they are actually laughing manically at the magically replicating pile of paperwork and files on my once clear and pristine looking desk (I think it used to be brown… it was so long ago that I actually saw it, I can barely remember).

Anyway, onto the actual task at hand now, that being the glorious orgasm inducing trip that was London! Crisis Peeps, we had fun! Crazii was out in full force for the full 10 days, The Giggle Queen, Glass and a Half and The Actress kept me entertained for hours and once again, The Tate, Kew Gardens and the wonderful sights and sounds of London did not disappoint! There was even an exhibition on at the Tate by Andy Warhol… Cow Wallapaper! Amazing! (I love cows for all those that think I’m very peculiar).

I also love Trains. I have since I was an ankle biter and this has never changed. I love The Tube. I even love it when it breaks down or it’s late. It’s a train. Moving fast. Underground. In the dark. Amazing! I also like talking to random British strangers on the Tube. It’s freaks then out no end and they honestly look completely baffled and surprised, as if I suddenly broke into song and started performing Opera, in German! It was my daily goal to talk to someone on every tube I got onto, everyday. And if I managed to talk to 2 or more people, I could carry one over until the next tube ride when everybody looked chavvy and I didn’t feel confident enough to chat to the sparkling gel-backed teenager with a spiked neck chain and 3 missing teeth! The London Marathon day was a bumper carry over day… I think I spoke to the whole crew of St John ambulance (and made sure I never saw them again on the route) as well as all runners donning SA colours! Viva SA!

So basically the moral of the story is, I will definitely be back next year (as always, I never listen to my own advice – refer to the title of this entry). The ballot opened today and I have entered already. Fingers crossed

LONDONTOWN!

Goodie, so much to catch up on! In the last few days I have managed to fly half way across the world, be educated in the ways of the British (Cambridge Friday Dinner), run 26 miles (London Marathon) and throw name with the best of them (Freedom Day Party @ The Puzzle)! Yip Peeps, I’m in my second home and lapping it up! London, is as always, amazing! Spring has sprung and the crazii Brits have already decided 18 degrees is sweltering and walking around in skirts and floppies!

At this point I must make the above point very clear. The British (and possibly greater European people) are insane. Not lock me up ala Hannibal Lector insane, insane in the amazing-OMG-I-can’t-believe-you-walked-out-in-public-wearing-that-insane! Seriously, I ran 26 miles and the number of normal people I saw didn’t even compare to the superhero’s, borat’s, rhino’s etc that managed to cross the line. As promised, I kicked Sonic in the shins, took photo’s with Borat and flew through the course with Superman. Flirted with Hulk Hogan, smiled at Batman and danced my way through the Docklands with Elvis. Spectacular! The route is crowded for the full 26 miles with spectators, it’s awesome! There is never a moment when you are alone on the road, pounding the tar feeling sorry for yourself. Mind you, the downside of this is that because there are so many people you never actually get into a proper rhythm, which, if you run like me doesn’t really matter!

Anyway, Glass and a Half and The Giggle Queen were on route at mile 25 for a quick pep talk and reminder that champers was waiting at the end. With new found enthusiasm I sprinted off to the finished to be greeted by thousands of cheering fans, a goodie bag and bottle of Veuve with the girls! Heaven! 2 bottles of Champers down in St James Park, we headed for a small piece of home, The Puzzle! The essentially unofficial Saffa Pub because all Saffa lives in Earlsfield.. They even serve Savanna! A few jugs of Snakebite, some Jaeger bombs thrown in for good measure and the obligatory cancer sticks, this marathon runner didn’t even care she was still in her trainers and lycra, in public! Gotta love London!

(Please note the bottle of champers on my lap)

I’m off today to have a browse around the Tate Modern, possibly some lunch with the Cousin and dinner in Wimbledon! Promise to update again when I can!