Spud Bud

Just finished reading the third installment of Spud, written by
John van de Ruit. Incredibly funny and worth the wait.
If you've every been to a South African boarding school,
you must read this series.

Drugs and Drama

Halfpint came home incubating germs. I had to take her to our drug dealer. She's happy now. I think it's all those 'feel good and even if I feel lousy, I don't care' pills. That, and the 'get out of exams free' card.
Remember the good ol' days when a parents' note was good enough.

Of course, I want a 'get out of work for a week' card but my boss is not as enthused as I am. I'm not senior enough to play 'shuffle' with the deadlines. Drat.

'Tis the season for veldfires

I turn my back for 2 seconds and MD is outside setting the world alight, the blazing trail being out alleged fire breaks. Of course, the smoke and ash billowed straight into the house while I was busy with laundry.

A day later, 4am, we woke to the sound of snap, crackle, pop. It was too early for breakfast and it wasn't my joints either. The sun rising in the west clued me in. FIRE !
Our winter woodpile and the grass the thatchers didn't collect was now a roaring inferno... and that was all. Thanks to the firebreaks, buildings, vehicles and oxygen thieves were safe.
Ditto our Telkom and Eskom lines. MD had the good sense to pipe and bury the cables deep underground two years back.

All's well. Guess I'll have to put up smelling like a chimney until the rains come.

Note to MD and Halfpint. Walk around the blackjacks, not through them.

New Moon

It's a bit difficult to hold a phone conversation over the shriek of an alarm siren - suggest you hang up.

Our first Fire Drill today.
Of course, some people thought it was voluntary and ignored staff wearing decorative reflective bibs. Others decided to head for the furthest exit rather than the closest (because that's where their mates are). All the First Aiders assembled - without their equipment bags.
We still got a way to go.

Basic Survival

Basic survival. Know your food groups.
Caffeine and Nicotine.
Chocolate is an optional extra, more commonly known as trooskos (comfort food).

These help curb homicidal tendencies.

Another fun Animal pic I can relate to

Awesome is dead, long live Groovy

People using 'awesome' and 'oh my god' are to be stoned to death (oh damn, that's not legal anymore), okay shunned, because their vocabulary is limited.

I was really looking forward to the stoning.

Drumming and Divorce

I took MD to a drumming circle. Big mistake. He's hooked... big time.
Two months later and we are now the proud owners of 12 drums. Not only that, we're gonna have our very own drumming circle venue.
Naturally, the house contruction, and especially my new kitchen I was assured would be finished by last Christmas, has been put on hold.

Truth be told. I really enjoy drumming.
There has been an unexpected reaction though.
My work colleagues assumed I was gatvol about the kitchen and was threatening divorce. I wondered at the source of this rumour until, two weeks later, realised that it was because I don't wear my rings.
To set the record straight. Drumming makes your hands swell and rings can damage the skins.
Ya, I'm a little peeved about the kitchen but another year of bunking cooking detail is fine by me.

Ta Da... the Cynic is back... by popular demand nogal

Back to work after the long weekend. My good mood was soon mashed by our resident hyperchondriac who has returned after 2 weeks compassionate leave. My empathy has long been used up so when she complained of sinus at 9am and then concussion at 10am, I knew we were in for the long haul. Yep. 11am rolled around and out came her depression meds. At noon, we were treated to 'my bruise is bigger than yours' show. 1pm had her phoning every gynae in town because her daughter is pregnant and 'someone' has some pox or another. The calls and family conference lasted till 5pm.
Now that just pisses me off because her chair warming means that the rest of the department is still carrying the load and her complaining, crying and moaning means we might all need to play 'pass the Prozac'. I have a solution but its illegal.

Half-Pint is at Pony Camp. I do love this 'outsourcing kids' stuff.
She called tonight to let me know she's still alive and I need not pick her up early. This independant streak is usual so don't be alarmed, however, I did think we'd strayed from the parenting path when she calmly remarked that a snake was slithering over her feet. The call was cut and I was considering dialing 911 when she called back to say she'd caught the 'harmless' red lipped herald.
Okay, I confess. We have two snakes in the house. And spiders, lizards and other bugs. They live in cages and get admired, fed and handled.
So where did we go wrong? My mom said to put 'em outside with sun and dirt, toss a book and pet in and voila, happy healthy kid. She did not specify that the pet was singular and that fur was preferred.

Hot Air

Great excitement this morning.
A hot air balloon landed on our property this morning. Shortly afterward, a cavalcade of cars arrived to collect the adventurers and paraphernalia.
They did not stay for coffee... reckon they've been shot at too many times.
Hmmmm.

Whine, whine, whine.

My Mom has a Aanhanger. For those who don't know, an Aanhanger is an adult dependant who should know better than to take advantage. Aanhangers like to hook up with soft hearted folk who should know better than to get taken in.
Anyway, Mom pours Aanhanger a glass of good wine. Aanhanger complains that the wine is not fine and suggests Mom buy a cheaper sort in the future. Mom suggests Aanhanger buy his own wine in future.
Aanhanger did not like this at all but liked it even less when Mom removed the full glass and poured it down the drain.
Annhanger has not whined nor wined since.
Go Mom!

Oh what a tangled web we weave..

Half Pint returned home from school this weekend... with braided hair.
Now I'm not referring to a single plait or even two Pippy Langkous plaits. Nope. I'm talking braided as only our chocolate sisters can do it. Minuscule braids of a few strands tightly woven on the scalp. I should mention at this point that Half Pint is vanilla and has naturally wavy blond hair that usually reached midpoint down her back.
OMG it took ages to undo this. Half Pint hit notes most Sopranos don't reach.
I think rweq...
At this point (a week ago), an incident happened. Spilt Coffee 1, Keyboard 0.
Keybo@rd h@d to go to ICU. B@by @ h@s not recovered so USB keyboard has stepped in to assist.
Anyway, Braid Bunny turned into Frizzy Lizzy. Half a bottle of silicone spray later and her hair was back to normal.
Half Pint casually mentioned that "maybe she should cut her hair short". The deceitful, wicked, conniving parents jumped at this opportunity and booked an appointment before she changed her mind.
This week, Half Pint sports a lovely, really short, curly style... and not a braid in site.
Cost - R40 for cut and R30 for styling gel.
Savings - no clips, hairties, tantrums and my sanity.

Euthanasia

Found this interesting article on News24 on Euthanasia, written by Isla Rechner.
I've taken liberties in copying some of the article.
The controversial topic of euthanasia has invoked strong feelings from approving and disapproving parties for years, even centuries. The question is that of its true justification or of its dismissals as an ethical practice.
Euthanasia comes from the Greek words eu and thatos, which roughly translate into English as "good death". It is the practice of ending the life of a terminally ill patient in a minimally painful way, as opposed to the incurable illness ending the patient's life in an agonising way.
There are three classifications of euthanasia. Passive euthanasia is withholding treatment from a patient knowing that it will most likely result in the death of the patient.
Non-aggressive euthanasia is performed by the removal of the patient's life support.
Aggressive euthanasia, by far the most controversial, is the purposive act of administering a lethal substance resulting in the forced death of a patient.
People have various reasons for approving of euthanasia. These include considering the quality of life of the patient and if it warrants continuation of living, as well as the free will of the patient on whether to decide to continue living in their condition, or to end their life on their terms.
The argument against euthanasia considers the factors that it is immoral and a form of suicide in most belief systems. It is also disputed that euthanasia can only be voluntary if the patient is mentally competent enough to make that decision.
This debate was highlighted by the case of Terry Schiavo of Florida, America. She was a relatively healthy woman before 1990, when she collapsed and suffered from cardiac and respiratory arrest. The lack of oxygen while she was being resuscitated lead her to being brain damaged and dependent on a feeding tube.
A complex issue
After years of attempted rehabilitation with no success, her husband decided that it would be in the best interest of his wife to remove her life support, a view vehemently opposed by her parents. The matter went to the courts, resulting in many years of petitions and appeals filed by the husband and the parents.
It was in these courts that it was realised that Terry Schiavo would not have wished to remain in her condition with no hope of recovery. On the 18th of March 2005, her feeding tube was removed. She died on the 31st of March 2005.
Euthanasia is a complex issue riddled with aspects specific to an individual's belief system and moral ethics. One needs to explore all avenues of this matter before casting judgement on it.
It should also be ensured that their wishes are heard and understood before they are not mentally competent enough to make the decision themselves. You never know if your life will be another person's decision.

This topic brought back painful memories for me. My late father had terminal cancer. He refused chemotherapy and invasive surgery. Chemo is painful and dibilitating. Same for surgery. He would get no benefit, only pain. He also signed a DNR (Do Not Resusitate). We watched him wither away physically for 8 long months. He was mentally alert all this time - even did the crossword puzzle on the day he died.
What pains me is that Dad begged to be euthanased. He was given morphine to dull the pain but not enough to end it. We contrived all sorts of schemes but I could not do it. Not because I didn't want to but because it is illegal. We were bound by the collective morality and laws of others. His dignity was hijacked. Would you want to wear a nappy and be force fed through a feeding tube?
Nothing was gained from his suffering.

I'd like to know what your opinion on this is.

Spring Bonfire

I love living in the country.
I love my neighbours.
I love Spring Bonfire.

One of the treats of not living in a townhouse complex or suburb you can only access through a boom gate, is that we actually, really, do speak with our neighbours. We don't just speak, we kuier lekker. We catch up on the skinner, discuss security, argue about sport and share food and jokes.
The kids, regardless of age, bolt into the trees and veld with torches and adventure in their hearts. Our local tree fella hauls in the dried wood collected over winter.
The blaze is ignited while the sun sets and out come the creative cooking skills. Pot bread. Stick bread. Sausages of all descriptions placed on a stick and held over the flames. Braai meat. Salads. Fruit. Nuts in skins. Marshmallows... lightly toasted and smothered with chocolate sauce.
As the stars shift overhead, the jackets come on and the younger, exhausted kids are put to bed on mattresses in the back of bakkies. The older kids gather and scare the hell out of each other with ghost stories. The adults' conversation slips to aliens, conspiracy theories, books and guns.
Eventually, we part company (with plenty hugs) and head for home and bed. Some of us only manage this at 5 in the morning (can't let a good sunrise get wasted).

Maplotters Rock!

BTW Maplotter neighbours refers to anyone who lives on a piece of land larger than a hectare within a 20km radius. Boere are the same but on a larger scale.

Spring Fever

I'm back... and fighting fit. Okay, not fighting fit but definitely vertical.
Construction has started on the house again so now I can soothe the bronchitis with cement dust, plaster sand, road dust, dog dust, veld fire soot, wood shaving. Let's not forget the rising pollen count. And to think I actually entertained the idea of giving up smoking.
While in the Spring cleaning mode, I checked out my old standby, the FlyLady. Gotta love her.
Shine your sink, put on your shoes... Unfortunately, FlyLady don't live where I do. Malplotters live in redneck heaven. I have tools and car parts in my entrance. I lost the dining table years ago. As for the actual dining room, urhm, I think its the junk pile behind the other junk pile that doubles as our lounge. Oh wait. There's a spare room, garage, store room and kraal that's also choka to bursting point. I have no clue what's in there actually.
And that's nothing compared to the stuff just lying around outside. Piles and piles of 'I dunno whats' and the required junk car too. Can't be a redneck if you don't have a scrap car parked out front, rusting away.
I would dearly love to live in my clean, almost bare, easy to maintain, piece of heaven on earth. Maybe even try my hand at some interior decorating. Okay, a fancy cushion. Okay, okay, a couch that doesn't 'wooph' dust would be nice. Ceiling boards that actually cover the ceiling would be a bonus.
FlyLady. We're a lost cause. I can't clean a thing because the stuff ain't mine to boogie.
Can't even shine my sink because it's a red plastic, warped, decomposing catastrophe.
MD - please finish the new kitchen quickly. Please, please.
And yeah, the stuff lying around really bothers me.

Pack rats. Uuurrrgghh!

Germ Warfare continued

Still battling the germs.
Reckon my nose drip could end the drought - definitely keeping Kleenex in business.
Being ill like this is totally yuck. Even the novelty of sleeping all day while everyone else trudges to work has worn off. My house looks like a bomb has hit it... and I don't care.

Come on summer. Come on rain.

Germ Warfare

Jees, I haven't posted anything for ages.
Anyway, full-on germ warfare going on in our house. It started innocently enough with "Mommy, my throat is sore" and has now culminated in the entire family being on antibiotics and everything else going to pieces. I'm no fan of antibiotics but a four day fever meant serious action. We've got the whole bang-shoot. Sinusitis, Pharyngitis, Bronchitis, Tonsilitis.
The Down Side:
Doctors bill R500. Meds R1000. Work piling up in my absence.
The Up Side:
Lots of sleep. Husky voice (very sexy). I can whistle my nose and breathe like bagpipes. I got a whole new perspective on my kitchen when a dizzy spell and fever caused me to strip and lay down on the cold tiles. Involuntary diet due to loss of appetite. Drug abuse.

JK Rowling rocks!

I loved the latest and last Harry Potter book. No spoilers. Read it yourself.

Pink gone plunk

I thought it would be a treat to take Half Pint to her first rock concert. One of her favourite artisits is Pink, who is touring SA in September.
There is one show on Saturday 8th... at Sun City. Travelling 300km (return) at night is not my idea of fun, especially when you have to share dodgy roads with drunkards.
Venue of choice is the Dome, however, the show is on the 9th. Sunday 9th. 8pm.
Now organisers - pay attention. Pink's target market is young teens. There is no way I (the Parent Person) am going to allow my kid to go to a concert on a school night. It's one of those non-negotiables.
Another non-negotiable is the ticket price. R400,00 per person? R250.00 if you want to use binoculars. You gotta be kidding! That's way out of the pocket money (pamper your kid) range. Sorry Half Pint.