I’m sick.

I had this boring post getting into being, and then I canned it.

Even being sick is no excuse for boredom!!!

Let me shake things up a bit.

Saw this on FB : Frightening statistics: Since the Roe and Wade decision in 1973, over 54 million innocent preborn children have been aborted in the US. That’s an average of 1.5 million abortions each year, compared to about 600,000 deaths from heart disease. Our country will probably catch up someday to that too unless we change the legislation.

From a South African friend of mine.

My answer to this - Then again,where on earth would be have put an extra 54 million people? Earth is overpopulated as it is. And these people use abortion as a prophylactic. They need to be spayed. I’m neither for, nor against abortion – it has it’s place in many instances – just playing devil’s advocate if you don’t mind.

Then somebody else posted a link to abortions in China – apparently 330 million abortions was performed in China since their family planning law came into effect 40 years ago. Alas. Chinese people prefer boys to girl so there is now, in China, apparently 37 million more men than women. Or some such.

How do I feel about abortion? Personally, I think it’s an abomination. Unless possible if you were raped. Unless the kid has not a viable life expectancy. it should not be done because you can’t keep your legs closed. It should not be done because you can’t afford another kid – for that you have other means of preventing pregnancy. It should not be done because you don’t use any kind of contraception. If you want to use abortion as a prophylactic, get yourself spayed. it will save a lot of money down the road I’m sure. Not to mention mental anguish – that is, if these people suffer from it.

I will not judge you if you decide to have an abortion. I can not. it’s your decision, and one you have to live with. One you will have to please and explain one day. Not only to The Maker, but to yourself. And I think, sometimes trying to explain the actions of a younger you to an older you is way more difficult that explaining it to another person.

As I said in my answer though. There are many people on this earth. Most of them in the third world. Where there’s no real food or opportunities for people to become the best they can be. Where would we have been if all those kids had lived?

Am I saying all those third world kids should be aborted? Not at all. Fact remains that in the third world, babies are at the order of the day instead of rare. Maybe the Do-gooders out there should rather concentrate on contraceptives than on mosquito nets and food. Just another cat amongst the pigeons.

I see it every day here in my country. On every street I travel I find a homeless person. Or a shack dweller. A mother, without a job, with a baby on her back. The chances are that kid will become just another shack dweller. Never rising above the muck. And no matter how much charity you throw at them, no matter how many organisations strive to uplift the people by teaching them viable skills – there will always be those that falls through the cracks.

Help for the situation? Probably not all that much. I’d say education, but what makes sense to me might not make sense to somebody from another culture. What I would think as a solution might be anathema to somebody else. But, after all that, education is key. Just common knowledge will make the difference nine times out of ten. If you can get past the views of the culture you’re preaching to though. And that is quite difficult. Believe me. I’ve tried.

So much ugliness in the world. So many wrongs being committed in the guise of progress. So many atrocities at the door of the very people that preaches against it. Makes one feel quite helpless in the face of all this, well, evil.

Maybe the end is indeed closer than we thought it was…

After all that, it’s time for me to eat and then take a dose of many meds. Have to lick this thing soon – it’s keeping me from visiting my guy and we can’t have that now can we!!

May your days be long upon the earth…

Thought this piece of music rousing enough for the content…


And this piece, just to show how amazing humans can also be…


Yeah. that would be me right this minute. Miffed.

Not quite angry, but not quite calm either. Not down in the dumps disappointed, but quite a bit so.

The kid. In Dubai. Having a whale of a time with the father’s wife and her sister. Since the father, that pleads poverty at every turn, seems to be a liar of note. Or the wife’s sister paid for the trip. Whatever the case may be, this particular kid changed his whatsapp profile pic to one of him with the two women, all with wide smiles, looking all happy and shit.

I did not appreciate that too much. Suffice to say, relations between me and the little ball buster – the new wife – has never been all that good, and after she accused my younger son of stealing, it is even more strained. So strained in actual fact that I will probably reverse back over her if I drive over her in the street kind of scenario.

What has miffed me though is the fact that my so clearly prefers that particular woman. She speaks french, shops the way he does, does the club scene, the red wine thing. Me, the mom? Not so much. But I’m the one that has to do his payments every month without even a thank you. I’m the one that forked out the cash so he could learn how to speak french. I’m the one that had to put up with his teenage shit, the carting around, the tantrums, the attitude. Not how I raised him I can assure you. Of course, this could just be my on inflection and be very far from the truth. But not in all the time that whatsapp has been a used method of communication, did my son put a picture up of me and him together. And that kind of fucks me off to no end.

But I suppose a child must get something from it’s father and in this case it seems that it was the user gene that was transferred to both my children from their father. Believe me. I tried to get it out of them. In all the ways I had available.  with word. With actions. With hidings. With fights. With examples. Alas. I seem to have lost that particular fight.

Back to closer things.

Work is strained. Very strained. Apparently heads are going to roll. The fact that that’s kind of like closing the door after the cow has bolted is apparently not thought of. Then again, they won’t know how deep this thing goes until the detecting has been done. It’s not a pleasant place to be at I can assure you. And if my head is one of the rolling ones? Well, hell. Then I’ll just have to suck it up and move right the heck along then, won’t I? I am so angry at the people that did the stealing. Such selfishness. Never a thought spared for anybody but themselves. And the rest of us have to deal with it.

To top it all, I have a head cold. Snotty nose, sore throat, very sore head.

But I’m alive, I can breathe (mostly), my pancreas is working just fine, I have gem squashes to eat tonight and some fish cakes with beetroot salad, a man that adores me – his words, not mine…

Life is, after all, not all bad ;-)

Long days and pleasant nights…

This tune, because I really like this chick’s tunes, and it was playing while I was typing up this missive – not everybody’s cup of tea, but it’s a shake up tune nevertheless…

Don’t know if this works, but it’s one of her hits – how’s this for variety ;-)



Something that I live with every day.

Something most South Africans live with for most of their lives.

Fear of the great unwashed taking and pillaging and burning what they find. To that end I have armed myself with things I can easily handle. A telescopic baton. A stun gun. a small, very sharp knife -gifted to me by C – that I christened with my own blood – albeit unwittingly :-). But really. We’re all mostly afraid. You don’t know from one day to the next when you will surprise robbers in your house. When somebody will side-swipe you at the traffic light. When some random arse will try and hi-jack your car, or steal your purse as you walk along.

At the moment, I am very apprehensive of what’s going to happen at work when I get there tomorrow. This whole theft thing is just going to snow ball into a massive shit-storm. Where life carried on on a relatively even keel at work, it’s now going to be churned and churned until everybody is so tense you could cut it with a knife. Trust broken is very difficult to restore, and, unfortunately, we’re the ones that’s left. So we will bear the brunt of that broken trust. I don’t think it will be fun and games at work tomorrow.

To top it off, some of the traffic lights on the way to work is not working. So I’ll have to leave for work tomorrow no later than 7 am. Not so much fun, but hey.

All that being said, let me gush once more. What a man I have!! We went to Harties today. Spent quite some time at Chameleon village – filled with African curio’s and restaurants and things. Amongst others, a book shop. With some curious books in it. I got a whole bag of books for a whole R52. Not a single new one, all dated from a time when books were held much more sacred than they are today. People have written their names in – because, back in the 50′s, books were precious. For some people they still are, but I think the world don’t hold books in as high regard as they really should. Kids that have never enjoyed the musty smell of a second hand bookshop are missing so much.

Anyway. Back to my gush. When I went into the shop, what did C do? Pulled me away and told me not to get any books because I have no more space? Nope. He went with me. Browsed with me. And carried the bag the whole time.

Last weekend, when I was at his house, my stupid dog parked off on my white duvet cover. Making one spot very much tan coloured. It was horrible. What did C do? Did he leave me to struggle with the stain on my own? Nope, he did not. He helped me scrub and scrub and scrub until we got the stain almost gone, and then he helped me with the washing.

The knife that I christened with my blood. We were looking for something to cut biltong with in the car. So, there we were, looking at a whole bunch of different knifes, and eventually decided on this particular one. A skinning knife. Fits my hand perfectly, sharp blade. And it works like a charm for cutting biltong with ;-) My first knife, and I will keep it with me always – a person’s attitude changes rapidly when he’s holding his guts in his hands. So, even though I don’t own a fire arm of any kind, I am not completely defenseless, and the populace that might want to remove me from the equation will know about that. Thanks to my Babe.

Got a bag today as well. I looked at them, could not decide if I wanted this particular one or not. So, we went for lunch, took a selfie, and I had a huge snake over my shoulders, and then we went back for the bag. For some or other reason my card would not work. Without me even asking, C, pays the guy, and I have my beautiful bag.

And this is part of my fear. What if. Always with the what if’s. But, what if one day, C reckons enough is enough. If my dark side starts to piss him off. If the fact that I get so upset over the utter disregard for human life in South Africa makes him think I’m a wuss? If my road rage or irritation at idiot drivers becomes too much? What if that day arrives and he says, sayonara Babe – It’s been good but now it’s over? On some level I know that I will probably pick up the pieces and carry on. It’s what we all do. But, in this short time, he’s become such an enormous part of my life. Somebody that really wants to speak to me, that really wants to spend time with me. That wants to share things with me. Somebody that embodies all the old fashioned values I hold so dear. Somebody I’ve literally spent a lifetime praying for. Somebody like that is not to be found behind every bush or in every pond. No use worrying about it now. That bridge will be crossed should it arrive on my horizon.

For now, however, I am basking in the knowledge that the Universe has sent across my path the perfect man for me. I am blessed to be this happy.

May your days be long upon the earth…

This song is quite an embodiment of the touch C’s taken with me. Gently breaking the very high walls I’ve built around myself and my emotions, slowly but surely, crumbling my defenses. Because gentleness wins where force fails…

I had a dream.

of sitting down at my computer and doing a post.

alas. I got sidetracked by a FB conversation. With somebody that I have never really conversed with although i’ve known this person for many years. when we met, she also met my then husband. They had an affair. He left her after he made promises to her that he had no intention of keeping. Suffice it to say we did not keep close contact as the years passed.

Now, she’s older, I’m older, we’ve each had our share of strife and heartache and we can now talk like humans. We will never be BFF’s, but we can talk about life, and should the chance present itself again, we will talk again. And leave the conversation better people.

Back to happenings now.

The bosses have been on leave since Monday. makes for a nice quiet work environment. And then, yesterday, the bomb burst. Firstly, they found a snake. Not a very big one, but quite a dangerous one. 

Late afternoon the most upsetting thing happened. goods were loaded on the courier truck without paperwork. One of our guys were suspected in the theft. The police was called and he was arrested on the spot. I am both angered and disappointed in this whole thing. It’s creating such a lot of drama at work. We’re having a staff meeting at the ass crack of dawn on Tuesday. People are walking around on eggs. Trust has been shaken on all sides. And, sorry as I feel for this person, I can’t understand what he was trying to do. Make money? Sure. For how long did he think he would make money before it came to light? Did he think of all the other people that he’s affecting by this? Me, that have to do stock takes every week? Raba that has to do the stock takes with me and help me look for shortages? The other guys in the warehouse that is only trying to put food on their table? I had this man in my car. I gave him lifts more often than not. I spoke to him as an equal, helped him, gave him advice and sympathy. Did he give any of us a second thought? Don’t suppose he did.

I do not like drama. it’s just upsetting. I prefer to be left in my little corner and do what I’m supposed to do. And now, unwittingly, I’m embroiled in this whole thing, as are we all.

And then I heard on the news that illegal miners have dug a 2 meter wide tunnel underneath a road to get to gold ore. The road is now closed because it has started to cave in. What on earth is happening to my country? We went from something worth living in to a complete and utter chaotic free for all. Where you do what you want, when you want and for how long you want. Money, money, money. Rhino’s being decimated for a useless piece of hair. Elephants for their ivory. Lions for what – their dicks? Why? A president that’s sitting pretty, on all the tax millions. With people idiotic enough to think him the best thing since sliced bread. Africa seems to like their dictators fat and well fed while the people starve and do ANYTHING to get money. Literally anything.

It’s as if the dam has burst and all the vileness of people are spewing forth at a rate of knots with no stopping it.

Luckily, tomorrow is Friday, and we all know what that means. I get to see my baby again. And, for a little while, life would be good again.

That being said, I am still content with the life I currently lead. it could have been so much worse, but not really all that much better, and I am thankful for that.

Hope you are all still well.

May your days be long upon the earth.

And this song, because we had some real rain here tonight – with thunder. Too lovely…


Once a day, say thank you for all you have.

Be it small, be it big. Be it plenty, be it not. Be thankful.

Today, I have a long list of things to be thankful for.

I have a man that actually loves me – because and in spite of who I am, just as I am.

I have children that i can be proud of more often than not.

I have a roof over my head. That’s not leaking. It’s whole. It keeps the rain off my head.

I have a comfortable bed to sleep in.

I have food to eat every day.

I have my own transport, and the means to mostly keep said transport’s wheels rolling.

I have a family that shares in my woes and my joys alike.

I have all my senses. I am able bodied. I can read and write.

And the biggest thing I’m thankful for today – i have been made permanent at the place I’ve been working on contract for the past 7 months. Since 2011, when I got let go from the quack’s practice, I’ve never been able to work past the end of March. Or I’ve been working only as a contractor. Three jobs later, the third one’s the charm and it broke the run.

I baked cupcakes to take to work tomorrow. To say thank you for all those people for accepting me, without getting upset at me as so many has done before them, for allowing me into their circle and embracing me as one of the team. of course I took a different track in this job, I kept to myself mostly, spoke when spoken to, but laughed when in was required and needed. I kept a guard in front of my tongue, and I said thank you for the opportunity every day.

I wish I could give each of you a cup cake too. You guys have listened to me mope and cry and moan and groan for what seems like eons, but you stuck with me. Words of encouragement followed me, even when I did not feel as if I was really worth anything. Each and every one of you deserves the biggest, most decadent whatever you feel like. Red Velvet cake with cream cheese icing. Bacon cheese burger. Corn dogs with mustard. death by Chocolate ice cream. A root beer float. Whatever your heart desires, my dear friends, you deserve every bit of it. For being the people you are. the people that stood by me through it all – literally!

And another rendition of the same song with a bit more oomf!



Something I’ve been thinking about for a while.

It’s also been a while since I’ve blogged. Life has been taking twists and turns with me and mine for the past few weeks. Things that just bring you down, and I’m not quite ready to get them out of my system. Some more mulling over is required. but me and C are still on track – I am indeed blessed.

I digress.

Kindness. That thing you are asked to do. The pay it forward situation. Do a single act of kindness every day and by the end of the year you would have made a change in 365 people’s lives.

Sure. Be kind. I’ve been kind. I probably will again – it’s something that you just do.

Alas. I’ve been bitten in the arse by my kindness. Big time. The HG really shook my kindness foundation to the core. So much so that I will from now on only pay somebody a kindness as long as I won’t see them again because, let’s face it. The people you do a kindness for and to are usually the kind of people that would need that same kindness again tomorrow or the next day or the next week. Very seldom do you get the chance to make the gesture of kindness to somebody that only needs it at that point in time, and never will again. Those acts, I think, carry the most weight in the kindness scheme of things.

And there-in lies the rub.

Those situations, the ones where a random act of kindness will really make the difference between life and death, but will not become a bottomless pit are few and far between.

You’re more likely to see the same beggar at the same robot every day. Same expression on their faces, same clothes, same feelings of shame created in you for not taking out whatever money you have in your purse and giving it to them. More likely to see the same unemployed woman with the string of kids, walking down the street, half-drunk and looking for more money to fill her next splurge.

and then you get the other side of the spectrum. People that go above and beyond themselves to help somebody in need and then being chastised for their help. I’ve heard of an instance where the guy saved the woman out of a car that was in the process of being swept away in flood waters. He broke her arm, but he saved her life. Did he get a thank you? Nope. He got sued because of the broken arm. Is that guy going to do something like that again? Probably not. Maybe he will, and the next time he will get a grateful person instead of a useless oxygen thief. maybe he won’t.

Should you just be kind regardless? Of course, you should not be kind to get anything out of the deal. Huge amounts of gratitude is not why you should be kind. You should be kind just  because you’re in a better position than the person needing the kindness. Because you are able to do something to lessen their woes. Invariably though, if you give money to the same beggar every day, and their thanks are always profuse, you start thinking that they must have practiced that little line once too often. I’ve given food and money to the same beggar a few days in a row and this person did not even remember my face. He just stood there, waiting for his hand-outs. Which kind of irked me because the darkie dude that always wants me to buy something from him, yet I never did, would always have a smile and a “Hello” and a passing of the time. Even him I’ve helped with a bit of cash here and there or a smoke sometimes. That’s the kind of kindness I can support. It creates a mutual give and take between people, making the world a better place for both of them. Not so the all out beggars though. They are just there to take whatever they can get, without thinking of giving something back even if it’s just a greeting, even if you don’t get anything. I know you’re not really going to buy food with that money. What you do with it though, is not my problem. Or is it? Do I rather give the drunk a sandwich that he’s in any case not going to eat? Or do I give him a few bucks, knowing that he’ll be running off to the closest bottle store to get his fix? Am I really being kind to him in doing that?

But if you think of it like that –  What needs to happen, will. If that person insists on drinking himself into a grave, nothing you do can stop it. He’s just going to change spots if he does not get custom at this particular spot.

Today, I resolved that I will put my leftover lunch in a bag that I can hand out at the first place I see a beggar. My mom’s bible study group has this thing that they must make 2 sandwiches – one to hand out on their way to bible study and one to hand out on their way back home. It’s what they do to try and make a difference in the world we live in. and I have no issue handing out food to people that needs it. But even there something halts me.

One of the things I have a daily struggle with. If you get anything too easy, you will never appreciate it. Lots of people in the suck heap don’t have jobs. And even less hope of finding jobs. They live off hand outs from the private sector and grants from the government. suffice to say we have a lot of beggars – of all colours and shapes and sexes. But in me giving them whatever I have on hand is only prolonging the situation of gimme, gimme, gimme…

Kindness. it exists in many guises. But they all have the same outcome. When you do a kindness to another person, do it because you can. and not because that person deserves it or because you will get praise. Do it because, in all the randoms acts that will just fill the never ending black hole of society, just one of them will make an actual difference in a person’s life. In one of those random acts, you will restore another human being’s faith in humanity. And maybe, just maybe, The Universe will take note. And it will know you were kind when there were no rewards to be had. That you gave even when you could not really afford to give. That you were kind just because you were kind. and then the Universe might just repay you with kindness returned manifold.

Gratitude is key. Being thankful for what you have and the position you’re in, enabling you to do a random act of kindness is also an act of gratitude.

To end with. Be kind. As often as you are able. It’s your way of saying thank you to the Universe. And, as you know, good manners cost nothing ;-)

May your days be long upon the earth…


Well, hullo there!!

Bet you thought I’d fallen off the face of the earth!

Nope, sorry. No such luck for any of the Universe’s denizens ;-)

What have I been doing? Good question that. mostly not much at all. Been getting pissed at the government – nothing new there. Been flabbergasted at how some people drive – nothing new there either. Became aware, once again, of the level of stupidity out there. And it comes in all shapes and sizes. I’ve been noticing people going through life blindly. As if nothing they do or say has an impact on anybody else out there.

Specifically, my sister’s soon to be ex husband. He’s moved out, but does not bother to phone the kids, or to ask after them. In the process, telling his children that he does not think they’re good enough without saying the words. Cause two little boys to grow up with the same problems so many other little boys have to deal with.

It’s been raining here just about non-stop for the past two weeks. The roads have gone from bad to worse, with potholes everywhere. Dams have broken, rivers have flooded, people have drowned – it would seem that Mother Earth might be starting reclaiming her domain.

I put in an application for a car. Now I have to see if it’s granted or not – either way, what needs to happen, will. Dancing tonight. And this weekend is C’s off weekend, spent with me. Two sleeps only – life is good :-)

Further to that the following :

Often, C and myself would talk about this. The inadequacies of words. There are so many of them. Each one has some kind of meaning. Or gives meaning to another. Even so. They are oftentimes inadequate to the emotions we experience. They can’t really describe how it feels to see your loved one again after an absence. How it feels to have to say goodbye again. How do you explain in one word the wealth of feelings garnered by the expected visit? How do you explain the peace that fills your heart when you see them, the surge of joy that overcomes all the ills of the preceding week? How does “I love you” cover the loosening of the burdens that you carried for so long? How does “Thank you” cover the absolute gratitude for having a partner that puts your needs before their own? And that allows you to be as good to them as you are able? How can you ever say enough words so that the other person knows just how much they mean to you? How deeply they have crawled into your heart, how much they have become a part of your daily thoughts? I suppose I’ve done a relatively good job in putting words to the feelings, but I think I’ve only scratched the tip.

Being loved and being allowed to love in return is, bar none, the most gratifying reason for being alive. Sure you can have a full, happy life being single – I have, lots of people choose to be single as a matter of course, and I can’t say that you can never be happy while on your own. I would have survived just fine, and so would C. We would have gone to work, gone visiting, watched our shows, eaten our food, maybe take in a show with friends or family, but, when all is said and done, we would have done it alone. There’s a hollowness to being on your own. a hollow that never really gets completely hidden. You fill it with different people, different things, hobbies, music, books, but it’s never really full. Something is lacking. Not that it always bothers you. For the most part you don’t even notice it. And then something happens. You fall down and skin your knee. Nothing serious, just an abrasion,  maybe some blood, but you sit down and you howl. Not because it hurts all that much, but because you know you now have to get up and hop along to the bathroom, get the disinfectant and cotton wool out and clean the wound yourself. Nobody is going to do it for you. So that’s what you do. You dry your tears, swallow a few times and get up and carry on with living as you know. But the hollow got a bit deeper. And so it goes.

You might date. You might not. You might have loads of friends. You might not. You might, like me, hole up on your hermitage and never get out in the open other than going to work. You will fill the hollow with what you think you need to. And you will be content with life as you know it.

If you are lucky enough to find somebody that sees you – as you are, warts and all – you will realise then how deep the hollow really goes. How many things you have wanted to share with somebody that appreciates your particular brand of human-ness.  Not because you’re half a person without somebody to share life with, but because you are just more. More able. More daring. More sparkling. You are just, more.

This was not a gush as such. It was just me, trying to explain to you, and to myself, how I’m experiencing this thing that has been happening with me. I’m making long term plans. I’m thinking of a possible together house – a place neither of us has shared with another person. We’re talking of birthday celebrations of both birthdays at the same time, mixing our circles of friends. Talking about next weekend as a matter of course, and not just a tentative arrangement. I’m cooking. I’m buying little treats. I get up out of my comfy chair or the bed and I make coffee. Something I would have balked at a few years ago.

But I have realised that, in order to make anything worth while continue to be worthwhile, I’m going to have to give as much, if not more, than I get. And, lo and behold, it is not a hardship at all! I don’t moan when I make C a cup of coffee. I don’t complain while I’m cooking him a meal. I do it all in anticipation of his reaction when he gets the gifts I can give him – my time, my effort, my love, my closeness. And he returns that in ten fold.

All my problems have not magically disappeared. Not by a long shot. I’m still not certain of the job. Money is always a precarious thing in my life. But I sleep well. I walk tall. I smile more often than not. I am blessed. I am loved.

That was just a catch up. I’ve been brewing on a few posts, but the words are not just there yet. Maybe they will never be there, and, if so, life, I’m sure, will continue ;-)

Hope all is well at your end of the line – time for me to brave the elements to go dancing. Think avoiding any low water bridges might not be the worst plan. Then again, much as I want to go dancing, this rain is enough to keep a person indoors. not just a misty rain, it pours down relentlessly, covering everything in white, wet water. you can’t see where you drive, wipers blurring across the windshield – maybe a night in would not be a bad idea – I’ll see.

may your days be long upon the earth…

This tune in honour of the driveway at work. Kind of muddy and slippery – I slip slide in there in the morning ;-)


And this one because of the misty morning I say over the weekend while watching C drive off to work… And quite one of my most favourite tunes of all time!






And not in a good way.

Filled up the car tonight. Petrol’s increasing again tonight at midnight. While I’m standing in line to fill up, I hear on the news that the minister of finance is doing something or other and that means that petrol might increase with another 56c at the end of March. We’ll be paying almost R15 per litre then. Why? I suppose some or other fat arse in government needs a new car, or a new wife or a  new house – it’s certainly not to do what they should with my hard earned tax money!

One down, several more to go, but I’ll refrain. There’s too much wrong in the world for me to carry on about things I can do nothing to change. I am, however, not in a very good place right now. Just the thought of what they’re doing, killing the taxpayer while living the good life on MY FUCKING earnings, gets my goat every time. It grates my non-existent nuts, it sticks in my craw, and I think it’s worse, the utter helplessness. The uselessness of me getting upset. The complete hopelessness of the situation. But hey. They will not stop until this country looks like the rest of Africa’s countries. Then, maybe, they might do something about it – when it’s all broken and rubbished.


I have another snot at work to write about.

I dub thee Squeeky McArse.

Thy initials are, very aptly so, BS.

Oh, how I loathe thee.

Thy voice is a drone to a place of utter irritation.

Thy walk is, alas, not a thing of grace and beauty.

it is reminiscent of the gangly walk of a lame duck.

Thy existence fills my mind with muck, my heart with yuck, my life with suck ;-)

This would be my boss’s one son. The youngest of the three kids she gave birth to. Mommy’s boy of NOTE! This little twat can’t do anything without mommy’s assistance. And mommy assists.  It’s what she does. Squeeky can do no wrong – even if he stuffs up. Other people take the blame for him. Not by choice. They have to. Because the arse in question is, well, an arse. His voice is of the most grating quality. No inflection. Just a grating monotone. sometimes it gets so bad that I have to leave my desk to get away from the sound of it. It touches something deep in my psyche. My Cro-Magna man genes – those ones that make you see red and want to lift a cudgel to the highest height and bring it down with a tremendous force. Such an act would be frowned upon, so I usually go and make myself coffee when BS chats with mom.

Usually dumping other people in shit he’s caused.

Today, he’s carrying on again about an extra computer that should be set up so he can use the stock system remotely. He’s the only sales person that moans about it. He is, however, not the only one that wants to use the computer to check stock. Why a whole computer has to be set up just so his lordship does not have to bother, I don’t know. Do they not have a WHOLE BIG SERVER with the system running all the time? Fancy that!! His mom has the idea that I would just bend over backwards to treat squeeky to his very own set up laptop – sorry mom. Not so much. The only thing I want to do with that particular arse, is kick it as hard as I can, not lick it like you do.

I have no idea why this particular young man affects me like this. Maybe it’s because he seems so weak. The way he walks, the way he talks, the way he runs to mom when things are not going like he wants them to. He’s slapgat – let me try and translate. Slap – meaning kind of wobbly. Gat – meaning hole in the ground or, in this case, arse. Being a slapgat means so much more than a wobbly arse. It means that you are mostly a useless human being. Not the brightest light on the tree, but you know very well who can solve your problems for you, and you cultivate those people. You get them everywhere. They don’t do much, but they always seems to come out tops. Because they know who to get to sort their shit out. When he visits, I can feel my ire rising.

I’m going to have to curb that – it’s not going to be good, so I’ll handle it. At least I can rant about it here ;-)

Speaking of here. For the past few days i have not even been online, but when I did get online, I signed up for a few courses – to try and make my life a little better, and possibly increasing my employment chances. I will see how it goes. C introduced me to the free learning places. It’s worth a try, and I’ll not lose anything by doing something like this.

Me and C. Still going strong peeps. Very strong. I think I irk him sometimes – I have that very uncanny ability to hit nerves. 99% of the time it’s completely unconscious. Must be my foot in mouth disease. But, he loves me still. Messages me still, visits me still. Makes me happy still. We had another lovely weekend, visiting friends of his from way back. I got to see Seventies C – he would have appealed to me back then. Quite the hunky man! And all that has just matured and mellowed into the person I now know. The couple we went to visit – they deserve a post on their own. Been through the mill, and are still together. And that’s always a good thing to write about.

For now, I think some Milo and ice cream would be in order while I try reading a few of my long neglected blog mates!

Bonne nuit…


once upon a time…

…I loved you.

I worshiped the ground you walked on.

I loved you enough to make you huge Valentines’ cards.

I loved you enough to send you a letter every day.

I was bewitched by you.

I gave up my self confidence. My pride. My self.

And you took it all.

You debased me.

You negated me.

And, eventually, you traded me in.


Was what you made of me not good enough anymore?

Did you not like your handiwork?

And then…

You left me alone.

You left me alone, and that allowed me to find the spark of myself.

You left me alone, and I managed to crawl out of the mire.

And as much as you moaned that I was clingy, when I became less so, it was not good either.

See, you wanted all of the good things in me for yourself.

and you still want that.

And even though you have demolished me for the most part,

I stopped you from taking everything.

I grew a pair.

I out on my big girl panties and I got out.

I don’t need you anymore.

I don’t know you anymore.

And I don’t like you anymore.

Now, you are a stranger I once knew.

I see flashes of you in my children – that can’t be escaped.

But I see my values in them. My work ethic. My manners.

You are still who you are. You have not changed.

You only live in a different place, maybe have more money, have a different wife to make miserable.

But you, you yourself, have not changed.

And with all your posturing, I can still see the lost little, lonely, uncertain, self-conscious boy.

All I can really do is feel sorry for you.

I have found my reason for living. I have found my zest for life.

without you.

And that, I’m sure, rankles, just a tad.

That’s probably why you feel the need to still negate me, to still debase me.

Only when I’m not there to defend myself.

But it’s all good.

I thank you for teaching me how NOT to be.

How NOT to treat people.

How NOT right you were for me.

I thank you for putting me on the path I am on now.

For, without your special blend of psychopathy, I would never have learned my true worth.

I would not live where I now live, or know what I now know.

I did these things, not because of you, but in spite of you.

The memory of you has ever served me to become the antithesis of you.

the thought of your words, and actions, have forced me to become a gentler person.

I have had to soothe your children, am still doing that.

So, dear X, you met me when I was young and impressionable.

You took that youth from me, and made me into something you thought you wanted.

You saw the qualities in me that you wanted for yourself and took as much of them as you could away from me.

But you never could take away all of me.

I kept something to myself. and I built on that.

And now, now I have a full life.

I have a partner in all things.

A love without compare – and I have to, again, thank you for that.

If not for leaving you, I would not have what I now have.

I can handle you now – mostly. But I don’t have to fight anymore,

I don’t have to argue anymore.

I can see you and wave you on your way.

I can be me.

I can be happy.

And I don’t have to allow you to do anything to me, ever again.

I don’t even hate you anymore, contrary to what the song says :-)


this tune played a big part in my healing process. I got rid of much of my initial anger, and was able to move on. and every time I felt violence erupting, I would listen to this – made me fell less alone, less of a failure, more part of a sisterhood of jilted women…


…seems to be running away from me.

These days, I tend to live from weekend to weekend. Time spent with C is worth more than all the money in the world. Worth more than diamonds and pearls. The best way for me to spend my time these days it would seem. So I’ve been remiss in replying to my comments, reading your stuff and even posting my own. Please bear with me. I read all the comments, but I’ve been in a a bit of a funk lately. Even the kids have sort of moaned about all the time I’m NOT spending on them! The eldest understands and he’s OK with the life I’m developing. The youngest, however, not so much. He, by the way, is on his way back to SA as we speak. Belgium turned out to be covered in red tape loving bureaucrats –  not quite the land of milk and honey he thought it would be like. Still. He’s got a father whose in-laws are mostly in the pound sheets, so all is not lost. I can only hope this lesson was expensive enough…

Me and C? Happiness is. Still. At the moment he’s working a night shift, and I’m at his house, waiting for him to come home to me. Such welcome I see in his eyes every time we meet. Such acceptance I experience. I am still blessed. Further to that, the following…

Night driving. One of my little joys.

Something quite cathartic about being in a car when the rest of the world sleeps.

You, your tunes. A smoke every so often, a swig of water. Through the open window you can hear the car’s tyres sweeping across the black tar. On the horizon you see the growing brightness of another car. It invades your solitude, fills the interior of the vehicle with it’s discordant sounds. Seconds and it’s over. Only the waning glow of the red taillights falling behind you, the darkness ahead of you becoming tangible again. Even if you know where you’re going, even if you know the road you’re travelling on, the darkness ahead can bring anything. It can bring death. It can bring aliens. Usually it brings the end to your journey. Every revolution of the engine, every turn of the wheel, every white line that flashes by brings you closer to where you want to be.

It’s been a while since I really traveled any kind of distance late at night. Not counting the few times I visited C, these past few months. Friday night I was in the right frame of mind to appreciate the solitude that night driving should bring. I immersed myself in the darkness surrounding me, reveled in the unknown opening up in the glare of my car’s headlights. The road led me to one place. Where I want most to be these days.

On that note, I’ll leave you with a brilliant rendition of Vivaldi’s Four seasons – Winter. My favourite of them all, by  a brilliant violinist, and quite a good tune to accompany you on a late night drive of any kind…

And then, this one. I had to include a gushing song ;-)

Long days and pleasant nights…