The future

It's 4:10ish and Im busy enjoying my 4pm coffee.  Its becoming more and more of an institution, as we approach the holidays.  This morning I threw some biscuits into my bag, in anticipation of this cup of coffee.  The biscuits were made in India, they cost about R2.50 at Nahoon Spar.

I regularly debate capitalism with housemate CP, usually shortly after I offer him an Indian biscuit.  That aside, these biscuits are a bountiful source of joy, because they represent so much more than just food.

They never go soft.  You can leave the packet open for days at a time and they remain crispy.  Its like hot chocolate that you only add water too.  It exists!  I know what that means, and that three dieticians just passed out, but in terms of sheer convenience, the future promises to be a gold mine.

The mind boggles at what food technologists everywhere are cooking up.

Wriggleswade dam

Destination Wriggleswade Dam.  A few kilometres short of Stutterheim, we hooked a right and hit the long dirt road leading to the dam.

After suffering a wrenched ankle during the final ELUF league game.  I kid you not. We have a league.  I resigned myself to spectating as housemate Nic and Cat took part in the Rotary Triathlon and Mile swim, respectively.  It was a tough call to make, but someone's got to lie in the sun and eat the picnic.

We watched the winner jog over the finish line.  He picked up his complementary loaf of bread (sponsor: Mr Bread), strolled back to his bike and packed his stuff.  Two men said well done, another man was fishing... and we ignored him - it took a while to realise this dude was actually the winner.  Very casual affair.

I attempted to track Cat's progress in the swim... but its hard enough to recognise a swimmer when you're standing next to them if they're capped and goggled.  Again, I had to settle for a cup of Quaffe and my wordy book.  I read a book at a sports event.  I just realised the significance of that.

Late night

Its friday, i go to bed in about 9 hours, which is a problem given its almost home time...

Its last-event-of-2010 time, kick a tree... and its probably a pine tree.  Kick it hard and you might get hit by a ball-bell.  Debate reigns on whether to go authentic or box-tree.  Typical white person behaviour at this time of year.
Its Christmas parties, end of year dinners, last get togethers and other food-centric events which seem to be occupying most evenings.  It also presents an opportunity for politicking in a variety of crowds - this year spanning all ages.

Each season has its share of social awkwardness; what to wear, what to drink... but most importantly... what to buy for secret santa.  With price limits set at an attainable 20 bucks, being original invariably means taking a risk.  Two years ago I received a pair of scissors.  Grateful as I am for the implement... it didn't quite say 'Christmas cheer', and so I'm wary of being too practical when picking gifts.

My input is this:  Biltong.

Dam Day

Its been a year of Friday nights at the Church and to end off we hit the Nahoon dam for a 'Dam Leaders Day'. The weather was shaky but held long enough for everyone to get wet anyway, on the tube.

Tubing. So much fun. Its the only version of 'being towed behind a boat' I've ever been any good at. And by good I mean, I can do it for an extended period. By extended period we're talking more than about 7 seconds.

I've tried skiing. The last boat driver actually said "Dont worry, I've never not been able to get someone up". I showed him. There's always that moment when you've fallen while skiing, but have still got the rope in your hands, its your will versus the friction force of water, at 20kmph. But its like gambling, the house always wins.

My awesome tubing partner and I emerged victorious, surviving a last ditch attempt by boat driver, and subscriber, Kyle. Left with sore arms and bloody shins we returned to dry land. Day well spent.

Braai

Speculation suggests that at least 20% of respondents would say 'Braai' if you said 'South Africa', as long as they were aware you were playing a word association game...

A couple of points on braaing in this country... after a weekend punctuated by boerie rolls.

- Theres always someone who gets suckered into cooking everyone's meat.  People seem to lose momentum and invariably just 'Bring'... leaving the '& Braai' to the unfortunate individual that fate lays its pointy finger on... and says 'You'.
- Wood vs. Charcoal vs. Briquettes. And yes, there is a different between Briquettes and Charcoal.  If you hadn't realised that yet, you're either unscrupulously good at not braaing for the crowd, or you're not a details man.
Real men use wood.  Men who use wood have been known to punt that fallacy.  Real men don't burn the meat.  That's how I roll.
- Rusty grids.  How this part of braai culture made it past the female contingent is a mystery, but it has.  Grid storage dilemna solved.  Just leave it outside.
- Fireman.  An important part of the braai equipment is the glass of water to subdue the flames, envigoured by the boerewors and lamb chops... but when last did anyone remember to bring it out before the braai, rather than shout 'Yo, dude... WATER!'

Morning swim

Its summer.  You may have missed that if you still set your alarm at the same time you have for the last 4 months.  I woke up at 5 on Monday and headed off to the pool.  Turns out the sun beat me to it.  Summer sun is that guy.

The before-work excersize crowd is generally speaking, obnoxious.  They know, you know, that they've sacrificed sleep in favour of an allegedly healthier lifestyle.  Now add spandex into that equation. Presenting the Joan Harrison pool crowd, a burgoening group of aspirant tri-athletes and injured runners.


Everyone's feeling fantastic about making it to the pool.  Successfully resisting the urge to align themselves with  the rest of the weary population... and the mattress.

The odd thing is that its totally quiet.  Swimming has got to be the ultimate individuals sport.

It was beautiful though.  Dawn glinting off the water, bright but not quite hot.  I may become a regular attendee.

Late application

Its been a while since I've had something to write... not that I ever really have something to write, but this time is been particularly acute.

Fortunately, the University of Fort Hare exists.  A bastion of administrative inefficiency and turmoil, and generally a good source of writings.

I've registered for a Management 3 course next year.  Anyone who's ever done a B.Comm will now be shocked.  Possibly be chuckling... wondering what possible value a Management major could add to anyone's life.  I agree... but it is merely a means to an end.  A marketing end.  More on that in 2012 when I've waded through MNG3.

It was awesome.  I'd been to the Fort already, had my application form... I'd reconn'ed the late application process and was aware of the application fee.  I had an academic record, also a separate trip, certified ID - thanks dad - and my matric certificate - thanks mom for your filing-foresight.

There was a noob infront of me, who was ill prepared and I managed to leap frog him at the bursar.  He was scribbling wildly in a  form.  I didn't make eye contact.  I'm not that guy.

Pick 'n Pay

This weekend's camping trip neccessitated a bit of grocery shopping, destination: Pick 'n Pay.  Living independantly neccessitates a job, so I shot out at lunch.

Pick 'n Pay was packed... who shops on a Friday at lunch time?!  I guess the government got paid yesterday, but thats no reason to skip work and go shopping.

It was a pretty uneventful trip until I walked past the cabbage display, aka ground zero.  Report just in, Asian man detonates 400g of high explosive in local shopping center.  Someone's Friday afternoon just got a whole lot more to do with 'sweeping up cabbage'.

I also spotted a polystyrene tray of ham off-cuts, all different colours... grey contrasted by spongy pink 'meat' and some nasty looking curry coloured stuff.

Spirit

Human spirit.  Its hard to pin down the trait, but theres a little somin'somin in each of us, which defies the other somin'somin in us; rational thought.

Well illustrated by Sunday afternoon's activities.  It was windy.  Ultimate (frisbee) is an awesome game, but if it has an achillies heal, its definitely prevailing weather conditions.  And yet 25 people pitched, well aware of the moving air.

So we play for 2 hours, vexed by shifting air pressure.  Then we braai.  We braai in a hurricane.  It took a three man hudle to manouvre the alight-blitz from the clubhouse, to the drum.  Even an enthusiastic kite flyer, kite'ist... guy who flies kites... would have bailed in favour of an electric frying pan.

What is that feeling you get, like an inner spicyness, when you defy yourself and end up with a boerie roll in one hand and a boerie roll in the other hand...

Buffet

Life tends toward tough, and invariably is.  Seems like everyone's battling their own one-eyed monster, hand to hand, no one spared the stress woven into today.  But it makes me happy that a group of people can get excited about a buffet, despite this.

Paying for your meal is like buying a ticket into a Theme park.  A passport to portliness.  Its a total afront to menus.  Ill have one of everything please.  Even the veg, once you've scooped a pile of corn onto your plate, you're already reaching for the carrots - and you've got 4 bowls to get past before you hit the meat podium.

I love how the meat is always slightly raised, well illuminated and above all... there.  Then the disher names your options and slaps down a piece of the good life once you've asked her for  everything.

We left satisfied.  I got attacked my a killer moth.  Well played moth.  We will meet again Country Bumpkin.

Shopping

I was in the Spar yesterday, buying cheap chocolate biscuits. Priorities.  A classic white, western ritual was playing out at the end of the biscuits and coffee isle.  A couple-shop.

We've all seen it happening... you may even have done it at some point.  I can't help but think theres a lot to it, like it might be the sort of thing the sentimental half of your relationship looks forward too... while the other half is dying a slow, inefficient death.

There's the pusher, the one who's in a constant state of cringe - crossing off another to-do list item they won't be able to complete that day, everytime he swings the trolley into another isle.

The other half, the shopper... clutching a list - more on that shortly - wobbles, shifting their weight from one foot to the other, ignoring the silent complaints of her partner, as she compares prices of every product in the store, every product.

Which begs the question - whats with the list.  If you're going to look at every price, mumble about every product... why do you have a list?!

But its a good thing the shopper has backup, you need a spotter, preventing slow speed head ons infront of the peanut butter and jam display.

Bread basket

We had supper at a nice restuarant on Friday.

The first sign you're at a nice restuarant is when they ask if you've booked.  We hadn't, but they were able to fit us in.

The second hint you're in a classy establishment, is the bread basket they deliver shortly before the meal you ordered arrives.  Interesting one this...  "Here, have some dry bread, yes... you've arrived."
.
It could be a confidence thing, "Our food is so good we can leave this basket of bread infront of you, and not worry about you filling up on carbs before your lamb cutlets arrive..."

Possibly a little injoke.  "Here, eat some dry bread... we're about to over charge you for the meal you ordered, later, we may make you dance like a monkey.".

Bread sticks or not, the food was good and I left satisfied.

I switched on the kettle this morning.  No joy.  No joy with the toaster either, or the microwave.  I wondered whether we'd suffered a monstrous infrastructure failure... but further investigation revealed that there was one  electric device functioning.  The prepaid electricity meter screen. Reading "0.0".

I got a sympathetic, knowing look from the lady at the BP when I hobbled in clutching a handle full of money at 6:12.

Ride to work

The morning ride to work is always fun.

First up is my face off with the taxi offloading people on the corner of May & Beach.  I like to make sure my visor is down before I get there, so that it looks black and menacing.

Things are chilled until I make it to the 4 way at Spar.  People assume guys on bikes take gaps because they're jerks.  Have you ever tried holding in the clutch, revving (cold engine), making sure you're in first for the pull off and waving the cautious soccer mom through the intersection.  Its just not efficient.

Bar the exceptional case of a man with three arms, who's conscientious enough to let someone go first. Realistically though, given the present social discrimination against people who are 'different' and the increased chance of agressiveness associated with the stereotyped biker, its unlikely that such a fellow would have remained amiable and sensitive to the anxious leanings of middle aged woman.

Then there's the Devereux sprint, from Ronnies to the Port Rex lights.  Its us against them.  Devereux vs Hudson Avenue.  People who can do maths, vs people who think its quicker to wait in a 400m queue, squeeze through a traffic circle and then wait at a red robot.

Kettle

Our kettle is a soldier.  Our frying pan is also a soldier, CP swears he'll never cook in it.  The kettle works hard.  In lieu of this, it went on strike for 3 days a while back, fortunately returning to action before we had to take 'measures'.

These days I have an 'understanding' with the giver of hot gifts.  When it went on vac last week thursday, I remained confident that we'd have it back in a couple of days.  However, after microwaving a cup of coffee for everyone at poker night, I realized an intervention was neccessary.

Sunday evening saw CP and I stripping ol'faithful on the diningroom table... the might of our combined electrician bearing down on its stained whiteness.

After taking out all visible scews, and dismantling the handle, we stared at it for a while.  I poked some wires with a screw driver. CP told me about the last time he got shocked by a capacitor.  I asked whether the kettle had a capacitor.  Then I stopped poking things with my metal stick.

After some deliberation, we decided it was too much effort to remove the element.  Probability of fault is directly proportional to ease of access.  Its science... I don't expect you to understand.

We reassembled the kettle, plugged it in... and wished we'd looked at the element a little closer.  Flick, flick, flick... bang... BANG... nothing.  CP hit it with his fist, I hit with with the cupboard.  Nothing.

Our experience depleted, I was about to say 'I think its that time when we pra...' and then the LED turned on and the kitchen was filled with the sound of success.  Its still working.

Weather

There aren't enough hours in the day to be productive, get your admin under control and have a good time.  Weekends provide a great opportunity to catch up.  But then the likelyhood of waking up on Saturday morning and saying 'Now then, lets sort out that car licensing' is... not likely.

East London, the weatherman's nemesis.  Its overcast, grey, misty... but theres so much humidity the bathroom floor makes it look like an epileptic just got out of the bath.  Everything is wet.  Everything.  Even the salt.  What the hell... if the salt can't fortify itself what chance do the rest of us stand?!  I may as well just go find my speedo and make hay, sunshine or not.

I came up with the ultimate deathmatch this week.  Farmers vs. People who ride bikes.  I wonder if they ever pray for rain at the Bikers' Church...?

Lesson

Fresh off a good weekend; went picnicing, watched a great Movie 'Hurt Locker'... Church and managed the first food-included breakfast run.  We hit Chinta East... but it was closed.... so we hit the West side. Chintsa Bay Bar FTW.

Gonubie River is a pleasant place to have a picnic.  We found some mottled sunlight amongst the trees, and a burnt out fire place.
Lessons learnt (in general and ito speed scrabble):
1. East London needs more picnic spots.
2. An Elk is a mountainous deer, while 'ilk' is a type of person... 'Someone of his ilk'.

Tonight I cook multiple chicken pies.  Its been a while.  I can't remember exactly how it works, apart from the part about needing chicken.

Status update

My week in haikus...

Work:
There is a chasm
of carbon and silicon
the softare can't breach

Extra-mural:
Sunny lunch at the pool
Blue laps, aching arms, need more air
Whats that white stuff?!

Weekends:
Open roads, take the gap
Breakfast runs less the breakfast
Need more CC's

House:
Three beds, one is full
Alone time, thought time, restful quiet
But damn, its quiet

Leftover

Instead of having cell on Wednesday, we instead investigated a new paradigm... cell and braai.  I hosted the get together, and as a result made good on the bounty.  Meat shared, is meat over-catered.  Today is day two of left-over-braai.  We've run out of small plastic containers, great for hauling cold chops around in, so I've brought lunch to work in a plastic packet (bread packet, not a Checkers).  Classy.

We watched Bad Boys last night.  The Film and Publications Board is always an interesting issue... I have no idea how they rate movies... either they've raised their standards since the late 90's, or there's some sort of contextual African-American leeway being applied... or 13 year olds were pretty foul back when Will Smith was small.

I think I almost ran over one of my dad's friends on the way to work this morning.  She shouted at me as a woooshed past her... don't think she knew who it was. Note to pedestrians: while speed bumps might be decorated in the same vein as zebra crossings... they serve a different purpose.

Wine fair

Deceptive Dan suggested we hit an all-you-can eat event at Hemingways this weekend.  He later admitted that all-you-can-eat was a sell, because he didn't think I'd go for all-you-can-drink.  Well played Dan.  It was the Taste fair; sort of a Top Billing'esque wine fair, come I sell wine and thus have a stall... event.

I'm about to generalize.  There were people who knew what they were buying, and one or two who knew what they were selling.  However.  There were a lot of people like me, who thought they were coming to an all-you-can-eat.  Not so much in the ate-a-lot vein, rather, I saw a lot of people tending toward the dubious Checkers Rose' stall - which had more in common with Coco's mix-a-drink than a Western Cape vineyard.
Im not interested in wine thats sweeter than Coke.

There's definitely something to the 'cheese and wine' combo, unfortunately there was only one cheese store, and about 10 wine merchants.  Eventually the Simonsberg salesman asked us if we'd ever had cheese before.  Seriously... he asked us that.

Finally, the Boks prevail.  The wine bonanza was gratefully interrupted by a big screen and some un-Top Billing'esque spectating.  The wine merchants true colours flew brightly.

Garden

Part of our lease agreement is that we look after the garden.  This seemed like a reasonable request when we moved in three months ago; the grass was short, garden beds were dead and most importantly - it meant our rent would be less.  Thus, on Saturday we found oursleves doing the first of as few as possible horticultural sessions.

Nic manned the weed eater, and mowed the lawn (apt).  I raked up an Egyptian-grade pyramid of leaves and CP turned a bush into a pile of sticks.  After 20 minutes we were all getting into it.  Activity would ease, then someone would say "...I think I'm going to edge that bed..." and some furious spade-work would ensue.  The rake would be called in, more bushes were attacked, black bags were filled and then the cycle would repeat itself.

All the while, tenant Greg and his china were having a braai on the lawn, presumably burning more of the poison tree.  They weren't talking... weed-eaters are like that.

Went for my first breakfast run type ride.  It was just after lunch, and we didn't eat at any point... but it was a start.  Theres something immeasurably cool about riding three abreast down Gonubie main road.

Swim

Now is always the best time.  It isn't always, but it is more often than you'd think.  Now wasn't the best time to resurect my swimming career. It was cold - I was wearing a speedo. I can't think of an analogy which captures the situation richly enough.  The Joan's heaters are broken. Im not venturing back into the icy waters until the sun, or their electrician, comes to the pool party.

Having had a legit job for a while now, Ive realised something.  Few people are qualified for their jobs.  Qualified by education - but rarely by actual, demonstrable skill.  I include myself in that.  It seems like that time between high school and job, spent eating rock buns in the cafe and hiding rubbers in Dave's accounting file/bag/pencil case/pockets.... anywhere really... didn't do much other than pad my CV, which I'm still yet to deploy.

I spent today animating some ribbons.  Im about to retake the reigns on a client service, account management project... tomorrow I may cure cancer...  I studied Economics... and some IT(IS) stuff... conveniently de-emphasized.

Cops

I still, sporadically, play Ultimate.  Haven't been in a while, but headed down to Nahoon on Sunday morning post-Church, post-first breakfast to join the crowd.  I was chatting to Roelof, fellow disc-sportsman, when a fairly relaxed polisikop rolled up next to us.  He didn't get out of his car.

Cop: 'You got a license?'
Rog: 'Me?'
Cop: 'Yes'
Rog: 'No, but I have a sense of humour... you?' (I didnt say that)

I then positioned myself between him and my bike so he couldn't see I was missing a mirror and dug in my bag for my folded up learners.

I thought it was interesting that he didn't say, 'Can I see your license....'.  Clearly a half-empty kind of guy.

Runners World thinks I can write.  Fo'sheeezy. (Get a cup of coffee, its long)

More insight into the world of bikes.  Bike shops are run by bikers.  If you can't see where the problem might come in, just review every sterotype you've banked of the average beer bellied, rough, hard living two-wheeler.  Now throw in some admin and client service.  What have you got?  Not much, thats what.

Stealth biker, coming soon.

Long Weekend

Lately, I haven't been sick much.  Sidebar: I discovered that the worst part of moving out of the house, as in family house, is getting sick.  Being sick, and staying by yourself sucks.  Period.
That aside, Ive had a healthy run for the last few months.  As such, I couldn't really complain when I got struck down with who knows what... especially because it was, objectively speaking, a runny nose and mild light headedness.  I can deal with that.  As for timing... 'What the helllll' Mother Nature, did it have to strike on Saturday afternoon... thats all I'm saying.

In an afront to all things IT guy, I'm no longer single.  I haven't clarified Cath's position on appearing in these posts, so I'll leave it at that.  Im stoked though, to say the least.

I've managed to not cook since Monday night, in hindsight, Im not even sure how.  I'm not hungry either.  Also  not sure if any remaining success in the fridge will have retained its wholesomeness.  That's something about potjie - it doesn't sell itself on looks.

Potjie

In aid of Woman's Day we were informed that our house would be cooking for the girls up the road.  Last week I was MC, and had 45 minutes to sort the meal out.  This week I was again in the line of fire, only this time I had literally the whole day to prep.  Infact, apart from watching 'The Pink Panther 2'... a chicken potjie was all I had to show for my 11hrs of conciousness.

Step one, CP and I cleared the garden bed to make way for 'Awesome fire pit'.  Conversation went something like this.
Rog: I was going to clear this but I dont have a spade.
CP: Lets just pull it all out.

Rog: This one's vas, not going anywhere.  Don't even bother.
<CP removes plant in question from ground>
Rog: Awkward.

Following our conquest of the plants I go and ask tenant Greg if I can buy some of his wood.
Rog: Greg, howzit.  I was wondering if I could buy some of your wood.
Greg: Hectic man, uuuh, that woods actually from the Poison Tree.
CP:  Ill go get some from Spar.

Three bits of blitz later, a restoration of my pride and the fire was... on fire.
CP: So...... wonder what we could do while this burns down.

10 minutes later...

Rog: What the hell.

Potjie was a success, there is currently a lot of success left in the fridge.  I hope to dent it at lunch today.

Materialism

Turns out subscriber Kyle was hording a PS2 all along.  I'd like to think that the reach of this blog is so vast that I was able to source a Playstation through one of my readers... only he sits next to me, and if I stretch out my left hand I can poke him in the eye.  After Church last night, I sat like a 12 year old in a bowl of Sony spaghetti, wiring up my childhood dream.

After 3 games, and 3 defeats, CP and I found ourselves discussing politics, and lusting after a bigger TV.  There may be merit to this whole materialism story.  Then Nic got home and announced we'd scored a bigger TV.  There may be merit to this whole 'If you think it, you can do it' story too.

The weekend was spent in Katberg, and then after that, recovering from our trip to Katberg.  A bunch of us went trail running... and then trail walking. I didn't anticipate doing any walking, but then I hadn't anticipated some of the gradients we'd encounter either.  It's a ridiculously beautiful place. I made as much effort as I could to take it in, while I wasn't focused on not letting anything out.  Definitely keen to go back next year for round 2.

Among my feats of manliness last week, I: suspected Cat's house was burning down.  Ran faster than a middle aged woman down a dirt road.  Contemplated assassinating a friend at a stop street.  Drove a Lamborghini.

All you can eat

Dave and I hit Panas last night for bottomless pizza.  Its 50 bucks for allegedly as much pizza as you can irresponsibly consume.  Back in the day, all-you-can-eats, were for the benefit of the consumer.  Its possible that all that consumptive-freedom was abused, and is the cause of the present day situation.  Whatever the case, its now a competition.  A battle.

Each side has a strategy, the battle lines are laid though each side affords the other a shallow degree of respect.  But we all know whats going down.

I had held back on food after lunch - freeing up maximum storage, and Dave arrived in his 'loose fitting pants'.  There was no question of a starter - this is about extracting all the utility you can out of 50 bucks.

The first 15 degree slice hit my stomach like a single fiery arrow into an ocean.  Dave's arrow didn't even touch the water. Then the pause - its no secret that food settles after 10 minutes. This is the core of the caterers defense.  And they play it skillfully.

Following the sacrificial lamb slice and the pause, they hit you with the rush - because they want you to come back next week.  The rush lasts half an hour, and restores your confidence in modern day bargains.  But then it ends, about 2 slices before you break even.  Its the two pieces you would've had for lunch today.

Competitive eating out.  Its a disease - but on a positive note, probably the healthier option.  The variety of pizza also means I eat something with veg on it.  We'll be back Panas, we're not. done. yet.

Washie II

Friday, 5pm, the first of much rubber burning happened.  Home, pack in preparation for the unknown, grab as much food as I could find without embarrasssing myself, notepad to take note of worthy events, warm top because it was night time and some keen'ness - because you need that if you're going to second a Washie runner for 27hrs.

We found dad 20kms into the race.  We almost killed about 10 runners in the process.  More on that another time.  40 runners, at least 60 cars full of seconds, trucks, headlamps and more hazard lights than a set of road works in a nightclub.  Dad didn't look so good, but then it was dark and his team of ninja's (sidebar: reflective clothing is a good idea) were more intereted in sister Julz' samis at this point.

AT 30km's dad realised something that 6 billion people, less 40 runners, had already realised.  Doing 130kms in a car is easier than running it.  Not to say he just stopped running - mother nature, his constitution and a litre of lactic acid teamed up to triple team him.  All us ninja's were very supportive of his decision... maybe a little too supportive.  Love you dad.

Ive lost all respect for the Washie.  Its ridiculous - theres nothing special about it, its just far.  Far doesn't equate to special... theres no TV cameras, crowds or public awareness.  Theres just trucks, dark and ninjas running along the R72 clutching bottles of coke and water.

Siberia

Our digs is pretty sparse.  We've had requests from Siberian immigrants to stay for a night, because they '...miss their homeland...'.  We managed to empty our dining room a month after we moved in, it was a half-way house for CP's recording studio... and my oven... and an inflatable whale called Cheety.  But no underwear.  Problem was, once it was empty... we had nothing to put in it.

The aquisition of a dining room table and chairs has birthed new hope in us; that our house could suck less.  While Nic threatens to buy couches, I'm pursuing some AV.  So the TV is sorted, and now I need a DVD player.

Which is when I stumbled across this gem - the photo in this post - I'm not one to mock people, so Ive obscured anything that none of you would have used to track down the socially awkward, pale, poor postured kid who posted this.  PS2's are also DVD players... and they're cheap... now... and they can play games - which are also cheap.  So I've been trying to source a PlayStation.  This kid obviously just discovered girls.  Lets not harp on the fact that I'm only getting a PS2 now.

I've added a Facebook like button, but I haven't clicked it... so I don't know what happens.  I absolve myself of any awkwardness associated to your friends finding out you read this.

Sun

This week started off with a bit of problem solving.  As is tradition at Oddity, CP got to work this morning and discoverd his workstation had been moved.  Anyone who's worked in an office knows the stress of moving desks; dealing with glare, drafts and people moving around you - there is much to consider when picking a spot.  But he wasn't here, so someone just moved him.  The new location had a nasty 'morning sun on monitor' factor.

Together with Big Boss Ashley, the three of us defined two possible solutions.
1.  Destroy the sun
2.  Stop the sun from coming in the window.

A brief SWOT analysis of each alternative revealed a clear winner and Ashley sourced a sheat of cardboard and an old box.  With the productivity bar set fairly high, it could prove to be a week of substantial graft.

Dad's going to see the doctor today to find out if he thinks its a good idea to run 160km.  I hope the doctor has a good sense of humour.

Washie

Kapow.  Its Thursday.  Arrived at work early this morning and hijacked the foyer sound system.  Deluge - Open up the sky.

My dad's doing the Washie this year.  For the lesser-informed, its a 160km road run from Port Alfred to Slummies.  For the non-runner, thats quite far to run.  Infact, thats quite far to drive.  I wouldn't even take that on on my bike.  I agreed to second him, which involves driving 160km quite slowly... and running next to him when he's battling to stay awake... and sleeping in a car seat when I'm battling to stay awake.  Its also next Friday!  What the flip, I thought I had months of prep time... I guess relative to actually taking part, I don't need to prep.

Feedback from the soccer is streaming in; Hemingways wants us to come back, real teenagers have said words like 'Thank you' and 'I appreciate it' and I hear some of them are still arguing about the refs.  My work here is done.  Good things to come.

Fresh

Today is a fresh start.  Not surprisingly, but still slightly unanticipate'edly, the last 30 days have been painted, luxuriously, with the soccer brush.  Sepp's forces infiltrated our lives, made us ask questions, shout things, and expanded our soccer-watching capacity, which is at an all time high.  I was quite pleased when they added on extra time last night - a mere 90 minutes of game time seemed a little cheap.  I could even have gone for a bit of a shootout on the side.

The Hemingways soccer proved the final 3 nails in the coffin.  Week 3 was a stretch, but a neccessary one.  Like that last pile of chips after a meal - too little without it, but you need to adjust the belt when you've delt with them.  On a net though, what a sick time - totally blessed to be there and worth the cold, wind blown look, to be involved in an outreach with our youth crew.  I dig those okes.

And so, free of soccer, with only Bakkies' cheap shots to look forward to sport-wise, and sky high expectations for our next season of ministry, its time for Monday.

Cooking

When dad, julz and I took over cooking duties, a couple of things changed.  The number of cook-in sauces in the cupboard increased exponentially, rice was reserved exclusively for the dogs food and we went through a period of dish-genocide, written off to ignorance of 'what you can/cant use on a stove' and 'what happens to expensive glass bowls if you pour really hot water into them'.  Yet we emerged, satisfied, full of bread, indebted to Ina Paarman and tomatoe and onion mix.

Thing is, 2 years down the line not much has changed.  Which is problematic.  Ive eaten three things for two years... which could have been worse, if it was the other way around... but a change in direction is urgent.  Ive eaten more boxes of fish than a Norweign fish packer who still has all his fingers.  Had I not been adopted as semi-official DIY guy at a neighbouring safe-harbour of home cooking, I might not have made it.

German supporters might also experience a change in diet shortly.  Calamari sales are expected to rocket in the next few days.

More soccer

Seriously... soccer rules!?  And I don't mean that in the cubicle wall 'Little Johnny rulez... no he sucks... stop adding to my grafitti jerk... you suck... you suck more...' sense.  I mean it in the Suarez sense.  That bottom feeding, unethical, unfortunately competent striker, jerk, 'he has a face i just want to hit, with my fist' -(housemate CP) Uruguayan scum bag.  If rugby had enough sense to invent 'penalty try', why can't soccer just bolt on 'goal', after their attempt at restoring parity after an intentional foul.

That aside.  Go the Dutch!!  The Brazillian coach/male model is going to have to sell his coat - possibly to the German coach/male model, who should take out insurance on his new purchase incase one of Diego's cartel put a hit out on it.  Maradona has got to be the dodgiest looking coach ever... apparently he believes in destiny, not practice.

Soccer culture

I think its fair to assume everyone's watched an unusually large amount of soccer in the last 3 weeks, and more than likely made a lot of comments like 'Ah come on  you little girl...', 'No WAYS man!, GROW UP!!'... etc.  Soccer culture is definitely an aquired taste.

Ive been exposed to the other side of soccer, away from the TV cameras, but within sight of the Hemingways CCTV.  If 'Dirty' Diego Forlan tried his luck in our 3-a-side he'd better hire a bodyguard else our teenage gansters might prove too much.

I also got a shot in the ref seat yesterday, which, if you know anything about my sporting heritage, is pretty unusual - especially considering theres hard cash on the line.  Soccer culture dictates that you disagree with 80% of reffing decisions, and lodge an informal complaint accordingly using your hands, facial expressions and words - where neccessary.  Reffing culture dictates that you never change your mind.  The best I could offer yesterday was  "Its in the past now, get over it!".  Im not sure what ref's say to players when they're whining, but judging by the looks I got in my high chair yesterday, I was on the money...

Unseriousness

I seem to be clashing with society on an increasingly regular occassion.  As I explore being a grown up, and have some varsity/school initiated myths happily shattered about the corporate world, I find myself plumbing the depths of 'how casual can you be in business'.

I've said to a couple of people that I really enjoy joking with the people we work with, making unbusiness like comments in emails, like one to the marketing director at Hemingways 'please keep your foot aimed squarely at the accounting butt that needs prompting...'.  The risk here is that you get to casual too soon - IT guys seem to be impervious to my wit, and in my submission to 'the joke isn't funny when you have to explain' I thnk I'm developing a colourful rep with the ICT crowd  all over Slummies.

IT guy: "...can you please ask somebody at SMG to confirm this request using an @smgafrica.com email address, this is for security purposes. ..."
Rog: "... Hi IT guy, Totally understand, we change email addresses here more often than underpants… ..."
Didnt get a reply to that one.

Rog: "...My current plan is either to get a .csv file from PE, and take an axe to it, ..."
IT guy: "...I'd probably ask them for both...."

Rog: "Hi Marketing Lady, Thanks for sorting out the R32k payment, we’ll start spending it…"
Marketing Lady: "Please keep all invoices, as we’ll need them to balance the R32 000. "
Immeadiate response.

Darkroom

Housemate CP made a joke last night.  How many guys does it take to change a lightbulb? More than three apparently.
The saga of the dark room continues.  Forget shaving without a mirror - try shaving without a light.  Thats how we roll, even though it looks like I got into a fight with a rabid cat.  Exaggeration.  Love it. Not really.  Like it. Sort of. Moving on.

Hemingways soccer tournament is on.  Competitors stand to make a lot of cash in the next three weeks.  Ive been learning a number of life lessons on the side, and on a rare, serious note... in the midst of my anxiety over how things hadn't gone as somewhat vaguely planned, good friend Mandy unleashed some wisdom: 'You only take your failures personally, if you take your successes personally'.  By 'take' I mean, 'take for yourself...'.  Working on that.

Checkout the 'football' button on all youtube videos, hilarious... it overlays all videos with the sound of vuvuzelas.

Millionaire

I was sitting in the office today trying to remember the name of a song.  All I could remember was one or two words, and that it was hip-hop.  So I say to Kyle and CP, whats that hip hop song about 'Being a millionaire'... I get the most classic blank stare back from both of them, and in unison "Every hip hop song is about being a millionaire". Good point.

The Hemingways soccer tournament starts this week.  Wednesday is D-Day.  Despite the ridiculously generous prize money people aren't signing up.  I suspect they assume you have to be good to take part, when in reality we're just dishing out cash to the willing.  Cash and t-shirts.

Portugal just thumped North Korea.  Maybe they should spend more time enriching their soccer team and less time fiddling in the lab.

IT Guy

Had a chat, about people reading you - or what people think of you - which box they've stuck you in... last week I  found myself telling two girls about a FIFA extension for my browser (gives live match updates), which was two IT related words too many.  Problem is, I enjoy my job, I don't dig the image... but I embrace the tools... and the once black and white line of 'quirky anecdote vs. nerd talk' is becoming increasingly blurred.

Even the purchase of an electric guitar, motorbike and other... cool... not lame, chick magnet stuff, isn't keeping up with the exponential growth in my appreciation of all things binary.



That aside, what the heck is going on with the weather!  This is youth mission week at the Church, so Im  not entirely surprised... thats just how it is... only it seems to be a country wide situation this year.  You could be forgiven for thinking it was the middle of winter... though it wouldnt necessarily be necessary.

Housemate CP introduced me to a schweet new band, The Classic Crime.

FIFA Stuff you.

World Cup 2010 - Soccer, Soccer in South Africa, World Cup Football, FIFA World Cup.  By the time you read this, I will be dead or in prison.  Ive just violated every FIFA legal constraint, short of selling Pepsi within sight of a soccer ball, anywhere in the country, ever. The FIFA officials are probably outside already.

Other things FIFA could ban...
Rain - It didn't pay for exposure, so what the flip.
Jokes - FIFA owns entertainment until 11 July
Julius Malema - or was that my idea...
Soccer/Football - only rugby with a round ball is allowed outside of an approved stadium.

Nic and I made it onto Nahoon beach the other evening (we were running you narrow-minded... nevermind).  Nic said 'Aah, the best part...' - then we had a closer look... we had to look because we could no longer talk over the gospel music coming out of a nearby car boot... and then we couldn't see anything either because we got enveloped in a greasy skottel cloud... which transitioned into Hip-Hop and a suspicious cloud coming out of a hub-azela (very original design) 20m down the carpark...

I haven't watched a game of football all year, I watched 3 this weekend and felt like I was missing out when I heard Germany vs. Australia was on last night... it had nothing to do with me hoping the Aussies would get hammered (check).  I'm definitely Feeling It.

TP

This is strictly toilet humour. You've been warned.

So things in the house are going well, everyone's getting on, everyone subscribes to my blog and the washing up is under control.  That said, our inventory management / logistics needs work.  This week it lead to a shortage... of the worst kind.

After work today I made a trip past the Spar in Beach Road.  Don't get me wrong, this wasn't my virgin toilet paper buying moment.  Infact, Ive had a couple of conversations with real girls while clutching a 9-pack in the middle of Vincent Park, but its always in the context of grocery shopping... not, 'Hi - all Im buying are these 4 loo rolls... yes its an emergency, why do you ask - did your well planned grocery shopping only consist of loo paper this week?'.

I had my casual face on when I was picking out an appropriate pack of white-gold, giving my 'I wonder which one my friend, who Im buying this for... would like... I havent got a clue, I dont even use the stuff... I'm just fortunate... You must be envious of my superior bowel' look.

But its tough to be casual, in the queue... when all you're holding is a 4-pack... and the people infront of you are all packin' baskets of food.  My saving grace was the guy behind me who bought two rolls, a pack of smokes and a bag of onions... he looked worse and jammed the cigs into his pocket as soon as they got scanned.  Maybe he should have thrown in some toothpaste for some balance.

Hogsback

Even people who live in small towns like East London experience a desire to get out of the big city and just chill... similar to the desire that brings Vaalies to Slummies in the summer, to play beach bats on Gonubie beach.  Hogsback was our chosen destination, around 200km North-West of home.  Toward PE, only inland...

The last time I was Hogsback, the locals didnt score many cool points.  The first encounter involved a man, a plastic bag of mushrooms, some slurring and a dreamy look in his eyes.  The second was with a man, in tracksuit pants and leather shoes, thats a little narrow minded - sorry, crazy I-don't-own-a-helmet-but-I-rode-a-motorbike-this-morning hair and a slightly leery look in his eye.

However, Hogsback has fully redeemed itself.  Every time someone says they enjoy visiting the place I'm a little confused, and suspicious of their extramural activities.  Someone accurately pointed out that it doesn't feel like you're in South Africa when you're there - which may contribute to my appreciation of the place.  Had it snowed I might not have come home.

We hired a house, Little Dene, no Big Dene insight, neighbour to the Eco-Shrine.  We jammed lots of worship, sang loudly and at times tunefully, braaied and walked in various forests.  Fully recommended winter get away.

New

Im finally back on the road, feet wise.  There are less hills in Nahoon than there are in Horse Shoe Valley, but there are more busses (I wont forget), two wheeled octagenarians... and hills.  Infact, I forgot about the medi-cross dip last night - which was an unpleasant route-choice fail.  There was also a guy on a bicycle to contend with, on the pavement, without lights... be wary of sticks old timer.

I had to design a pamphlet for our Hemingways soccer tournament, because I couldn't find anyone who is good at design with free time.  I find out last night they'r printing about 10 000, and its going into the paper and being read on the radio.  My email address is on that pamphlet...

Our digs, us, has this group of friends... They're the sort of friends who send you a message to come and collect a present - they did buy us a present - and yet we don't trust them entirely, and so organised to have someone man the fort while we were gone, incase its a scam and our house is going to get raided.  Keeps you on your toes.

Rugby

People who were rubbish at contact sports have long claimed the higher ground cognitively, compensating for their lack of guns with an advanced sense of self preservation, supposedly brought on by a bigger and more active brain.
I try not to be one of those people, although all entry-requirements to the club exist.

That said, the stuff commentators/fans say out loud during a game is great.

'The Stormers need to score some points now!' - If winning requires you to have more points than the other team... ?!
'The Stormers need to keep possession!' - Their last strategy involved giving the ball to the opposition, their fans appreciate the new game plan.
'Tackle him' - Or don't, your call - but he might score if you don't.

We went bowling, on grass, like old people, yesterday at Hamilton's.  Turns out there's some technique involved, and you can't roll it straight, even if you throw it hard, Juls, or if you roll it the wrong way around.  What you really need is someone who knows how to play, and the other team that dude.

Mornings

I have no curtains.  This isn't a major change, I didnt have curtains in the valley either - and its possible that I had a greater viewership there, than I do now... unless the neighbours are dodgy.  Its Nahoon, they always say you should watch out in the suburbs.

Mornings in May Street are characterized by complete inactivity, followed by an intense 15 minutes.  I go against the tide getting up early and have a borderline lethargic morning approaching the 7:40 leave for work... which takes 4 minutes... Nahoon - where its at.

The housemates aren't morning people, though Nic has impressive out-of-bed-eat-something skills.  When Im getting a refill he appears, in the slightly dazed state I manage to avoid anyone else seeing by getting up before the others, and makes a bowl of ProNutro.  Infact, being able to hide a bowl of ProNutro at any time of the day is impressive.  The only sign that CP is no longer in bed is the sound of the Jet taking off in the ceiling at 7:40.  We catch up over coffee at work.

Todays ride to work was peppered with cars not stopping at stop streets.  One of them was the accounts lady at work, Debbie.  I mentioned it when we got to work.  She said she didn't see me.  Check.

Sokkie

Last week was, in retrospect, the calm before the storm... well, storm is a strong word.  The weekend hit with an amazing race at youth, we almost lost a half dozen kids, lost is also a strong word... it implies fault on your behalf.  Apologies to Nahoon and all other road users.

I, along with numerous past and recent Stomers converts (I am neither, just didnt want to sit at home alone) went to a dark room where we watched the top half of the screen, unobscured by heads.  Then we went to a sokkie.  Which is, if you think about it, a contrast - and yet totally acceptable...

I am a first time sokkie attendee, and had it on the same list as Frisbee culture and unitards, assimilating yourself is done with a fair amount of trepidation.  The Boeretroos Teater (its tough to retell this story to Afrikaans people without fouling up the pronunciation) was our destination.  Short of the long, I discovered these things about sokkie:
- dont lift your feet
- go with the flow
- if you spend too much time apologizing, you're more likely to have another accident. Check.
- don't take advice from Pete 'I-dropped-Simone' Stutterheim
- if the culture shock doesn't get you, the velskoene will.

Contrast

Its been a quiet week at work, not entirely unpleasant, infact I thought it would really suck, but instead has just been a bit of a respite.  Now that Im living with humans again, me time is less accessible.

Its these humans, specifically the one in our flat (we have a tenant, not a housemate, in a flat on the premises) that provided a rich contrast last night.  I was having a quick jam in preparation for worship at cell, while the tenant and his mate smoked a joint in the garden.

The light in the toilet fused 3 minutes before everyone arrived for our housewarming last weekend.  Last night Nic and I realised we hadn't actually checked the bulb, assuming it was a more serious fault.  Infact, we've just relocated after-dark visits to the loo to the other bathroom since then.  Turns out it wasn't the bulb, infact, Im not sure what it was, but after balancing on the edge of the bath in my stokies this morning, prodding the light fitting, its now working again.

House warming

Housemate CP made a hilarious comment on the weekend, which I remember tagging as post-material... unfortunately I didn't file it correctly.
Our house is now warmed - I only told 3 people about it, and am full of regret as I realise I dropped the ball.  In an attempt to shift blame, you should have come anyway, but seriously, apologies, that one's been tagged as a fail.

When you have foreigners in your place of dwelling, you open yourself up to a lot... from people critiscising the contents of your cupboards, filling your fridge with milky concoctions and commenting on your conservative bedroom decorations.  Im claiming 'bedroom in best condition'.  Nic definitely took 'most real food in cupboard' and CP gets the 'at least my bathroom light hasnt fused' award.

Saturday morning saw three guys attempt some baking forwardslash song writing.  Time and reader-interest doesn't allow for a full explanation - but the cake was good, the song was catchy... and we managed to liberate our braais from Greenan Road armed with the confectionary.

Home

Its been somewhere around a week since I moved in, and time for a review:

• The garage door has a demon in it.  Its inappropriately loud.  I expect to field calls from the SPCA every morning.
• Half the garage is carpeted.  So we've got supernatural beings and homely touches...  the garage leaves many questions unanswered.
• We're told the last tenant had the carpets cleaned.  We're told he was also the first man on the moon.  And that he starred in Gladiator.
• We have a suitable birdbox for a homing pigeon.  For the rest of this week anyway.  By Saturday we'll have suitable fuel for a braai.  If we get a pigeon before that, don't worry about bringing anything for the housewarming.
• Last night a jet landed in the roof shortly after I got into the shower.  Or was it the geyser.
• We also have a dilapadated chicken-hok in the garden.  No need to exagerate that one.
• We don't have two braais in our braai area.  Yet.

Lastly, theres now a *fail *win *no comment box - you know what to do.

Moving

I emerge from one of those weeks where you've done the math and realised that you're going to be short about 3 hrs... every day.  Deadlines dictate your schedule - putting out fires is the priority and smouldering projects are left to themselves until they become full blown crisis.

That said, I also had a fantastic week, emerging with a clutch of wins.  Reward to the brave.  Reward to the dude who over commits.  Our soccer tournament at Hemingways Mall is on track, budget almost put onto paper, getting together tomorrow for a watershed meeting. Let it rain.  Some other cool stuff happened, maybe for later. I also found a Relient K CD - Five score and seven years ago.

The major cost of last week was moving house.  Im back in Nahoon.  Moving is life's way of reminding you what a horder you are.  Its also a workout.  And sweaty. And a trip down memory lane.  And slightly embarrassing if someone helps you and gains unneccessary insight into your personal self. On a positive, my furniture tetris skills are at an all time high.

Next Level

Another week, another reshuffle at work.  I discovered my desk on the bottom floor this morning, on my return from a short trip to the Cape.  Im sitting next to a large window, which may aid my milkyness, but only on the right hand side...  like one of those soft-serves from the Windmill. Initially strawberry and vanilla, transitioning to chocolate mix.

I havent moved house.  I will soon, but was gifted a few extra days to sort my life out last week and took advantage.

Cape Town was the stuff.  7 brutal games of the sport formerly known as Frisbee.  The Ultimate crowd is pretty offbeat, unfortunately I'd already entitled my last post, else I would have called it 'Pretty mainstream' or 'Vanilla Rog'.  It'll take us a while to get into the culture, like it takes a while to get into an orange unitard.  You may have some reservations at first.

Other things from the trip.  I met a butcher, who's actually an accountant. I took a left after the bridge. I watched a Lithuanian play tennis, and saw (more heard) a Ducati 1098.

Offbeat

My new brother Clive, husband to my older sister, announced at their wedding this weekend that he and Julz were planning on writing a book 'Wedding Planning for Dummies'.  I'm thinking of writing my own one called 'Rogers guide to being a wedding spectator'.  Julz and Clive managed to pull off a wedding and avoid any fighting, in four months.  I managed to avoid everything for four months.

We watched the Count of Monte Cristo on Sunday night.  A quick 'Compare and Contrast' with the chicken and bacon burger I ate while watching:

Movie, improbable tunneling skills. Burger, improbable to eat without getting sauce on everything within a meter of the box.
Movie, home-video'ish. Burger, homemade'ish.
Movie, 2 hours... Burger, 15 minutes.
Movie, though French... no french. Burger, french fries. Burger wins.
Movie, massive rock jump. Burger, risky sleeping-Monique jump to get to the sink to wash off.

That was ridiculous.

Review

Its been a week full of events I could write about, but no one would read a comprehensive breakdown, so Im still not sure what to include.

Major event this week is having my expectations met, exceeded and then blown away by God.  We've just been backed by the Eastern Cape's biggest shopping center, Hemingways Mall, to run a soccer tournament there in the June holidays.  I can't convey the full extent of what a coup this is without a page of background information, but 'Shakka boom ba!' will have to do for now.

On a lighter note, I grabbed a tin of condensed milk during my grocery blitz on Sunday night.  Ive always held the stuff in high regard, as if its the ultimate unhealth, pie dominating, fear no burger food.  It was a timeous purchase too as the bitter coastal winter rolls in.  Two big spoons in a cup of coffee is worth trying, its that good.

Lastly, Im breaking new ground this weekend as I take on a Sunday School class.  I am the substandard-sub, brought in because there was no one else.  No one.  Not even a girl. Not even a girl who likes little kids. I intend on going in hard, establishing the hierarchy upfront.

Morning

So winter is approaching - autumn is advancing hard. I can attest to this after passing through the valley this morning on two wheels. Coffee intake is up, tracksuit pants wearing is up and its dark when I wake up.  Greetings.

The latest addition to my arsenal of nerd toys is my phone.  I have only one complaint so far - the alarm.  Im no morning person and really valued the fact that my old phone engaged snooze when you pushed the biggest button.  Good one Norway.  Not so with my Korean replacement.  This one asks you if you'd like to snooze for 5, 10 or 15 minutes - which violates the core principle of snooze, given you need to think and be co-ordinated enough to hit the right button.

e-Thug

So I watch a lot of youtube videos - fortunately the office just picked up an uncapped ADSL line, so my guilt has eased.
I love reading the comments under videos.  It doesn't matter if its a cooking tutorial, news clip from a Julius Malema interview or a Korean kid giving it stick on a Whitney Houston song - the only people to take the time to comment are e-thugs.

I have an app which summarizes the words used in comments and shows a 'most popular words' summary for each video - and the negative words are always the same, always leading with F***.  There are millions are prepubescant teenagers hating on race groups, women, men, koreans, whitney houston, politicians, the press - basically any definable stereotype - from the comfort of their computer chair - one of those ones with wheels on the bottom and a gas lever.

Don't become an e-thug.

The summary extension runs in Google Chrome, its called Extension Cloud available here

Peace

Its been a busy last few weeks - since my spell in the trailer there has been a lot to do.  Im inclined to leave for tomorrow what I needn't do today - never the best option in hindsight, but frustratingly comfortable at the time.

I spent the evening yesterday sitting watching the sunset over Nahoon River, and then sat in the dark at home letting the dust settle, so feeling pretty comfortable today.  Comfortable even with my new phone, which has added an extra layer of complexity to the last 2 days.  It also rained - rain always complicates things.

Ive given notice in the valley.  Its unfortunate, but a range of factors have pulled together to get me out of the countryside and hopefully into the suburbs.  We haven't got a place yet, but Im not overly concerned about finding somewhere... theres always the trailer.

Ive realised a lot of people don't read these posts - big up to those of you who do, more so to people who actually subscribe... if you're on facebook, check out the actual blog these posts are pulled from and stick your email address into the 'subscribe' box... readership motivates production.

Weekend Away

Taking a weekend off to spend time with your mates, resetting your spiritual path and tuning into God's heart makes for a good few days.  Sleeping in a trailer, living out of your boot and eating out of a 9 year old girls cutlery set... well...
Seriously though, note disclaimer, life with God's perspective is liberating, if not daunting, but I just get the sense its all worth it, and will continue to be so  indefinitely :)

With a bike, comes a helmet.  With a helmet comes a need for CPEA (close proximity environmental awareness).  Your head is twice the size it usually is, and you're more inclined to headbutt stuff.  Yesterday the petrol attendant took one for the team.  I apologized profusely.  He seemed ok about the whole thing.

Spur

My childhood owes a fair amount to Spur.  Without it, I would have had to purchase pencil bags, rulers and miscellaneous stationery items, none of them official Secret Tribe spec.  I would also have had a skewed and unrealistic understanding of native Americans - unaware that there are still tribes of feather wearing, wooden canoe paddling, waterfall-rope-swinging people out there.

That said, all this magnificent 'added value' has done nothing for my appreciation of the place.  I hate the Spur.  I know hate is a strong word... but I hate the Spur. Going there for supper is essentially a combo pack of all the worst parts of being a middle aged parent - topped of by paying an unrealistically high amount for your meal.

The only reason... the only draw card... is the Monday burger special. Two full meals, for the price of one.  Two people, two drinks and burgers and a coffee and a bill of R88.  Even I must concede it was worth it.