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.