The Bear in Me

The other night was very chilly in Joburg - chilly enough to require long-sleeve shirt and long pants.  It was a preview of things to come and reminded me why, or just one of the many reasons why, winter is not my friend.

I am astounded and highly disturbed by my physiological response to cold. I become a bear sensing winter coming on and everything in me propels me to pack on the fat to get through the coming food-scarce months. I have triple helpings and crave dessert;

cravings I mostly give into.  I eat more than my fair share of our hot fudge.  Straight from the jar into my mouth.  Before lunch. 

I’m not sure if bears do this also, but as if by some unspoken decree of mother nature, I, without plan or thought, one evening switch from drinking white wine to red. Just like that.   (not that that is a bad thing.)  

Day after chilly day I eat, getting rounder and plumper, in preparation for the inevitable day when nuts and berries are no longer available.  Well, shocking as this news may come to the part of my brain that thinks otherwise, I am not a bear living off the land and nuts and berries remain plentiful throughout the year in my little world.  But meanwhile I am left with plumpness and unforgiving clothes that protest against my new roundness by squeezing me, hard.

I refuse to embrace this animal part of me that makes no sense in today’s world - or my today's world.   Rather this winter I will beat mother bear back with a stick.   Or maybe I’ll invite her to have a glass of red wine with me and then to be on her way before I sit down to my normal size dinner.  

And the Good News Is; Countering the Prevailing Stereotypes - Installment 2

My post about the good news taxi story got more reads than almost any other post, so when friend, Suzanne Moore, relayed her positive taxi story in a comment to my blog, I thought to share it.   I think it is not just me who is hungry, ravenous for more of the good news.


"I love happy taxi encounter stories. Their drivers do an important, dangerous, and under appreciated job in our society.

Yesterday, as I was driving along main road, a taxi pulls up next to me and the driver hangs out of the window to let me know that one of my tires was a little flat. Then he blocked traffic for me so I was able to pull into the nearest petrol station.

A bit later in the day, I waved one in front of me in rush hour traffic on the high way. After all, they have many more passengers stuck in the sweltering heat, who have much longer distances than me to travel before they eventually get home to their families. In return, I got waves and smiles, along with the customary double flash of warning lights.

These small acts of kindness make my day. :-)"




Thanks, Suzanne Moore, for sharing!

My (second) New Year

My New Year began on 11/11/11.  I loved the symbolism of it.  "One" being the beginning - and on that day, we got 6 of that auspicious number (10 if you managed to be present when it turned 11:11am). Just look at the way that date looks. Clean, simple, yet something powerful and strong in there too.   Powerful in a stars coming into alignment way.  So,  I decided that 11/11/11 would be the first day of my New Year - My Year of (Re)Alignment.


I never have felt any affinity with what would be my traditional New Year's Day, January 1st. So not surprisingly when it came this year, I felt no surging ahead of my 11/11/11 New Year.   But today, the Year of the Water Dragon begins and it is speaking to me.

To get a better hold on it, I watched someone's video blog where he explained some of the significance of this year.  According to him, last year, the Year of the Rabbit, was a year to hole up, put things in place, get ready, but not be too out there.  This year, the Year of the  Dragon, is the culmination of the Chinese lunar 12 year cycle; so as he said, it is like graduation.  A year for BIG things to happen, what we've been building toward.

Some words this blogger used to describe what is ahead if we choose it:  powerful, emotions, passion, explode, big vision, creative, painful, love.  





The Year of the Water Dragon only comes around once every 60 years.  I did the math and this is the only Year of the Water Dragon I get.  I'm so ready, and I'm so not ready.   On Saturday, I asked a Buddhist monk to make me a good luck Chinese New Year sign with the words Courage and Faith on them.   Instead he made me one that says something like not 1 good thing, but 10,000 good things will happen.  Okay, not what I asked for but believe me, I'll take it.

At the temple, I also pulled a tiny Buddhist Chinese New Year Words of Wisdom scroll from the jar.   "Determination to Succeed Brings Good Fortune." True enough in that fortune cookie kind of way.   But the second half is so right, so mine.  "Courage to Fail Brings Hope of Success."  Happy New Year!

Hints From Chinese Heloise

Yesterday when we walked into the tiny Chinatown shop specializing in tea, we noticed wedges of lemon, big chunks of skin still on pineapple, and onion quarters, edges drying and curling up brown, scattered randomly on shelves. We wondered if they were perhaps an employee's leftover lunch, forgotten in the midst of helping a customer. Being the curious people we are, we asked.

Turns out it is an ingenious, non-toxic, low cost remedy to take away paint smell. And very effective it seemed to us as neither of us had any idea the adjoining room had been painted the day before.

Limes In Avos Out

Limes are seasonal - and a rare treat in this part of the world!!! Who knew??  Certainly not I when last year I did a big invite for people to come over for margaritas and guacamole.   And that is when I naively went to Dunkeld Fruit and Flower to buy the required dozens of limes and was told they weren't in season yet.  Lemons available all year round, but limes have only a month or so on the grocer's shelves.  (don't ask me how that is possible.)

Fortunately, although I had to pay a small fortune in beginning of season prices, limes came in right before our big margarita/guacamole fest.  When the price dropped, I bought bags full and juiced and froze and juiced and froze.  My frozen lime juice stock has just run out - and I see limes are back on the shelves just in the nick of time.  Which means, ridiculously, that avocados are out.

  The good news is that avos (as they're fondly referred to here) must have a wide growing area, because they are only scarce for about 4-6 weeks, and then slowly little ones start reappearing on the shelves till finally at the height of the season, you can get a package of 6 avos for R14 or $2.00.  I've eaten A LOT  of avocados since I moved here.

There are a couple of other seasonal items that have taken me by surprise.  Walnuts.  Grapes.  Israelie/Persian cucumbers.

The obvious downside of this in-season out-of-season cycle is the inconvenience - I mean really, limes might be seasonal, but margaritas are certainly meant to be a year-round staple.  However, the absolute beauty of this seasonality is that I rejoice when I see the lime, the walnuts, the grapes, and of course, the avos back on the shelves.   And in this world, I am embracing all the reasons I can to rejoice.

And the Good News Is; Examples to Counteract the Prevailing Stereotypes; Installment 2

(Before I say the good news, a little background if you are not from, or have never been to, South Africa.  The majority of people here in Johannesburg do not own cars and therefore do their daily commutes and travel by taxi.  Not the single passenger taxi, but the van type of taxi that picks up and deposits its passengers all along its route often blocking the cars behind which causes some inconvenience and irritation - which those of us who are fortunate enough to have cars should just get over.  But taxi drivers in this country also have a reputation for rude, reckless, dangerous, and discourteous driving and this reputation is not just invented.)

So my drive to deliver Alexander in the morning is a bit convoluted.    I wag through the backstreets of Craighall Park to avoid the Bompas back-up, do a little left jig onto the hyper trafficy Jan Smuts for one block, and then scoot over onto the backstreets of Dunkeld, taking me to hyper trafficy Oxford where I need to do a little left jag before turning into Alexander's school.  These little jigs and jags onto Jan Smuts and Oxford always require the kindness of strangers to let me in or else I would need to sit there and wait till rush hour is over to get Alexander to school.   Not often, but occasionally, it is a taxi driver who kindly waves me in front of him.  As a way of give-back thanks, I try as often as possible to extend the same courtesy to taxis, hoping in some small way, in my own little world, to grow this practice of mutual consideration.  

Revised. My favorites in this order. . .

A little while ago, I posted a status update with my top 3 favorite animals.   Giraffe, warthog and cow, in that order.  Then today while I driving down Bompas I noticed a Star headline posted on a street sign reminding me of one of my former favorites, making me feel a little fickle and disloyal for having forgotten it so easily.  (For those not familiar, newspapers plaster every available street post with their most sensational headlines to entice us to buy their newspaper.  I never succumb though, figuring the headline gives me all the news I need to know.)

Today's Star Headline:   "Don't Pooh-Pooh Dung Beetle Dance."  I, of course, was familiar with dung beetles before ever coming to South Africa from numerous National Geographic specials.  But I was not charmed with them until I saw one with my very own eyes at Pilansburg Game Reserve.  Wow, what single minded hard workers they are, rolling their personal perfectly round ball of dung at great speeds, sometimes facing downwards and backwards, pushing the ball with their hind legs.

So the Star got me; I bought the newspaper.  Here is what I learned from the article.  The US military is studying these much under-appreciated creatures to understand their navigational system.   Apparently, they use the sun, or on cloudy days, polarized light patterns (whatever that is), to keep their ball rolling in a straight line.  This is quite critical because they are rolling as fast as they can away from the dung pile in order to protect their treasure from being stolen.   God forbid, they end up going in a circle and land back where they started.  A few meters away from the pile, they bury the dung and yum, eat it, or sweet, lay an egg in it.

But listen to this!  In the same article, they talk about the ants in the Sahara Desert that not only use polarized light to navigate but "also appear to count their footsteps."   If I ever saw these ants with my own eyes, they would very likely need to go in my top 3 favorite animals, though I would be hard-pressed to decide which one of my currents to displace.    Better yet, I will keep my top 3 favorite animals, and also have a top 3 favorite insects, dung beetle at the top.

Position Available

Yesterday, parenthood, or rather should I say Parental Responsibilities (P.R.), outpaced me, outstripped me, plain outran me.   I was running along at a pretty good clip (meetings with support staff at Quince's school, rushing critical forgotten homework to Alexander's school -which normally I would not do but it was his birthday, shopping for birthday dinner, listening to Quince do her homework reading).   For much of the day, I was ahead of P.R.  Then in the afternoon, both kids home, I felt it pull up alongside and keep pace with me. All good.

But suddenly, as I am finishing up last minute work emails, Alexander is on the computer signing up for Facebook and P.R. streaks ahead leaving me in the dust.

How did this happen???  How am I so unprepared??    Alexander has been begging for a FB account for about the last year. To put him off I said okay when you are 13, which is when Facebook allows it, and which at the time seemed like it would never come.   But Wednesday it came, snuck (sneaked I think is the correct word, but I like snuck better) right up on me.  To be fair to him, he has been saying for the past few days, "On Wednesday, I get a Facebook account."  I was busy preparing to close out my mother's 5 week visit, host my friend's son for 5 days and figure out two kids' birthdays, not to mention trying to squeeze in that pesky thing called work.  We'll have time to deal with that FB stuff once life has returned to normal.  Ha.

Because there it is, in the blink of an eye, Alexander has 40 Facebook friends, and I haven't even looked at one "Protecting Your Kids on Facebook" website.  I am feeling wildly inadequate for this job.  Whoever gave it to me was a nut.  If I were my supervisor for this parent job, I would be at this very moment advertising for a replacement.   I'm not waiting.  I have my CV out.

Everyday, a New Perfection

Monday

Tuesday

Wednesday

Thursday

Friday

Saturday

Balloon Friends?

When I was about Quince's age, I remember finding a rock, not a particularly note-worthy rock as I recall, that I formed this attachment to. I carried it with my everywhere like a secret friend to keep me company.  When out for walk, I would put it down and kick it out in front of me as one does - but I made sure never to kick it so far that I would lose it. At then end of the walk, I'd pick it up and pop it back in my pocket.

Quince too forms these attachments to inanimate things, so I wasn't surprised when I saw her yesterday at Tanya's birthday party gathering all the party balloons into a small area. Sure enough she had attached and wanted to adopt them.  Long process short, Tanya relinquished her parental rights to the balloons.  Bill rigged a towel sling to get the herd of balloons to the car. Once home Quince squirreled herself away in her room, drew faces on and named every one. Then she put them all in her bottom bunk and put them to bed.

Awwww, cute, clever, creative.  Except am I the only one that thinks they're also incredibly creepy? In that horror movie come-alive-in-the-middle-of-the-night sort of way. What about a nice rock for a friend, Quince?

The Best Gifts

Sometimes the best gifts turn out to be the one bought last minute in the grocery store in a desperate panic to have something to fill the stocking.

This photo does not do justice to the play dough miniature dining room and table setting - all stylishly monochromatic- but it gives an idea of the hours of pleasure Quince is getting from this Pick N Pay moment of accidental genius.

Sophisticated Work

Tonight while I was making dinner, Quince, feeling in a loving mood (I'm sure it is because Alexander is away at Leadership Camp and she is basking in single kiddom) said, "Mama, thank you so much for giving me life twice. First when you gave birth to me and then by feeding me for all these years." Then Bill walked into the room.  Not wanting him to feel left out, she said, "And Daddy, thank you for going to work." Realizing her error immediately, she quickly added, "I am thanking you because your work is sophisticated." 

I must say, I am a bit proud of myself because she still has her head, and I didn't even send her to bed without supper.  In fact, I very calmly just asked her to explain what she meant. Turns out those who go into offices have sophisticated work, and those of us who work from home do not.   Apparently, according to Quince, when we were in the States and I was going into the YouthBuild office, my work was sophisticated but now, even though I am doing very similar work from home, is not.   Who knew?   (but I really do want sophisticated work - does anyone have an office I can come work in?)

Tonight while I made dinner, Quince, feeling in a loving mood (I'm sure it is because her brother is out of town for 4 days and she is basking in single-kiddom), said, "Mommy, thank you for Tonight Tonight while I made dinner, Quince, feeling in a loving mood (I'm sure it is because her brother is out of town for 4 days and she is basking in single-kiddom), said, "Mommy, thank you for

Quince's Rose

When I went to pick Quince up on this first day of Grade 3, the St Teresa's 2012 booklet caught my eye. On the cover was a picture of a rose which was nearly identical to the photo of our rose that I had taken in the morning. When I showed it to the principal, she agreed that it was a nearly perfect match and thought that it must be a sign. St. Teresa's is a Catholic school, so I am sure she meant a sign from God, but God, the Universe, whatever, I too am going to take it as a sign.  Quince, this is your year to find your footing, to bloom like this rose, to remember, even in the dark times, that you are miraculously and wondrously beautiful.

Jane Goodall's Got Nothing on My Mother

This very short little movie was made by Alexander from footage taken at the Bush Babies Sanctuary in Hartebeesport, South Africa.   If you know my mother, please watch it.  If you know Alexander, please watch it.  If you like to laugh, please watch it. 

 http://youtu.be/S1paA82jVdk

Love Glutton

I saw this quote from Mother Teresa yesterday and have been giving it some thought. First, we, as a species, don't seem to be very good at removing people's hunger for bread so it makes me despair for the first part.

And then in a self-absorbed way, I started thinking more about this hunger for love. I'm really curious, even when you are well loved, do you still want more, more, more? Or is it just me being a love glutton and I better up my therapy to 2 times a week.

Back to School

Last two days the kids have been dreading going back to school, especially Alexander. But the dread tap must have been on full blast because by this morning it seemed to have all drained out, replaced by eagerness.  I'm sure there must be some scientific explanation for such a turn-around.  

Why I Love My Mother, An Addendum

About 10 or 15 years ago, my sisters, niece and I filled a piece of chart paper with the things we loved about our mother (in my niece's case, grandmother). I would like to add this video to that list. (mind you, she is 78 years-old!)

Good Morning Tuesday

Lighting Ambiance Insight from My Eight Year-Old

First, it is important that you know these two rooms are painted exactly the same color, the only difference is the type of light bulb. My daughter was in the one on the left - yes the one with the toilet - but needed to be in the one on the right because she needed to take a shower. She said, "But Mommy, this one is so welcoming, and that one is so isolating." Forget decor, forget fancy table settings, forget flowers (okay, don't forget flowers, I love them too much) - it is all about the LIGHTING people.