… a little bit of this, that and a lot more

Archive for the ‘People’ Category

My Spotty Memory

I wish I could say that my spotty memory is due to middle age, but alas, that would be the easy way out, and hell, will I EVER admit to something like that?? NO!!! ;p.

I noticed over a decade ago that I was starting to “miss” a few details in my dreary life. Heck, sometimes I think I’m missing days if not weeks in my dizzy existence.

People – friends, family, even colleagues – would be sharing anecdotes about this-that-or-the-other, and I will be like “Nah, don’t remember it“. Some of the stories they would share, would get reactions of “What?!?! I would never….!!!!” from me, because it just sounded like something that I would never do or say. And the looks of sheer perplexion on these loved one’s faces that I could ever forget such details…..how should I feel, eh??

Of course, the family – being Boo and Boys – just completely take advantage of my cagey memory, and definitely take as many chances as they can in order to
1. get away with murder
2. make me feel bad
3. get something out of me
4. get away with murder
Opportunists. I like it.

Admittedly, my memory is hazy, but I hate anyone trying to take me for a ride because of it. Hence I don’t let on that I have absolutely no freaking clue what people are on about. If I’m not sure about what they are talking about (i.e. have no cookin’ clue), I would just make non-committal noises, e.g “Oh…yes…hmm…ya…” or whenever I can, try to get more details to jog the brain, such as “I don’t exactly recall, can you refresh….” That works like a charm. Most of the time. Other times I just get the evil eye from people, you know that “She’s missing the whole box of screws…” -look. Yeah, I’m crazy alright.

But, it is embarrassing at times too. When I can’t remember people who I met last week. Or what I said to someone-or-another at a party. Or if I can’t remember what I did a few days ago, after breakfast. I sometimes miss hours of my day. Horrible, isn’t it??

On the flip side, there are things that I remember as clearly as the day it happened. Go figure. I can’t say if it’s something about the event, the person, or my state of mind at the time. There is just absolutely no pattern there. If there was a pattern, I would cling to it like a lifeline, and use that in order to hold on to memories, to details. Alas. No such luck.

I just worry that I will forget completely. Forget the wonder of the boys growing up – the first time they really looked and recognized me as their mom, their first smiles, their first hugs and kisses, the first day at school, losing their first teeth. It’s already starting to get foggier.
That fills me with dread. That I may be left with nothing to remind me of the best times in my life

I think I should write this in a memoir.

To make sure that I have something to remember.

Midlife Chronicles – Take 1

I’ve decided to blog more frequently, by recording some of the sillier parts of my life.

Dizzy’s Midlife Chronicles it will be. Here’s part 1. Read it and weep. Or laugh. Your choice.

I went out tonight. With some friends (I hope). A few things I’ve noticed (I have some experience here, trust me)
1. I feel goddamn sexy after the 2nd glass of wine (or mojito or caiperina)
2. The oppostite sex feels the same way (judging from eye contact and body language)
3. I feel I can conquer the world
4. I have solutions to all my problems
5. I have questions to stuff I never even thought about (untapped intellect < get it??)
6. I feel I can conquer the world
7. I'm horny as hell
8. After walking around naked for about 20 minutes in front of hubby, I realise I could just as well have been wearing a sack (<what's wrong with this picture????)
9. I am not attracted to just any tom-dick-and-harry (I was worried for a bit there)
10. I wish I could bottle feelings 1, 3 & 6
11. Well, maybe I'll still get lucky 😛

G'night from way over here 🙂

Posted from WordPress for Android

Reinventing Myself

I can’t believe it’s been over a year since I’ve last posted. Bet my followers thought “that’s it, she’s done, she’s gone and lost it”.

Well, actually, I lost it before I left….(<—that totally makes sense, doesn't it)

Guess I needed time to refocus, regroup, “re-whatever” in order to “get back, get sane(r) and on track”. It wasn’t intentional to be MIA for so long. Things just happened.

This past year has seen many changes. I’ve been to South Africa for about a month, it was fantastic. I’ve travelled here and there, for work, for personal pleasure. My older son has finished school. My other son started a German school at the ripe young age of 16 (<<< more stress). Husband (finally) completed his degree (yay)…There've been changes in the work front. There's been some bad things too – at a point I really could've done without – but that's life, eh. Just kicks you when you're down. I will not dwell on this now, this is fodder for a next post….

I've realised that what I've experienced was not so crazy and out of the ordinary at all. Many women face such challenges, and deal with it. Some deal better than others I guess. I fall in the "other" category :p

Now that I've accepted these challenges as my new reality, I am better, and stronger. Can't beat a good woman, eh? And I've decided – hell, yes – I am superwoman, and I'm bad-ass to boot 🙂

SuperWoman on 'roids

So here I am, back and wanting to reinvent myself. Not become someone else, but become a better me. Be less stressed, freak out less about the stupid things that tend to piss me off so much. Be more patient. Be a better wife and mom.

It’s like asking for the moon, right.

Here goes nothing….

Doubt & Faith

This morning I found myself wondering if I did the right thing by deciding to stay

Granted, this was not a one-man decision, the kids and husband were involved in this process. Yet I have to admit that I believe husband was driven by my and the children’s wants and needs

I find myself questioning everything now. Did I know what that would mean for me in the long-term – the isolation from the family, the isolation here, the additional costs for sending OS to University, the additional costs of sending TA to this private school.

Of course I thought about all of this. We thought about all of this – long and hard. Back then it looked like the only / best option for us.

But I question.

Will I be able to afford keeping one son at a private school and sending another son to Varsity? Will I be able to cope for who knows how long being the breadwinner? Can I deal with not having someone (other than husband) I can turn to voice my concerns, to vent, to have fun with? Can I cope with not having my family around for years to come? Can I cope with husband possibly not finding work? Have I made the right decision? Do I have what it takes to make a success here, with this cesspool of piranhas?

What have I done???

I get an icy cold feeling every time I think of that. I have taken on more than I can handle. Why is this such an issue now?

The only answer is – the honeymoon phase is over, now reality sets in. Since I’ve been so busy with finding a house, and all the logistics around moving, I’ve not really had time to contemplate all of this

And I am scared shitless. I worry.

I know this is all a little too late, and that we have to make it work now. There’s really no option to go back – I have no job in ZA, BH is not guaranteed of getting a job there. We will have to spend a fortune to go back. That thought really scares me.

I’m not a weakling. I’m made of strong material. But even I have to admit that this is all a bit too much for me to cope with at the moment. And what, do I ask myself, will help me cope better?

I was about to say “I don’t know”, but then I stopped, and realised…I do know.

I might not have all the answers all the time, but I have faith that it will work out. I have faith.

Like everything else in my life, every other time I was faced with a crises of galactic proportions – my faith got me through it. God got me through it.

I (literally) just heard a voice in my ear saying “What are you doing? Why are you panicking like this? It will all be ok.”

I took a breath, and now I am calmer. That panicky feeling is gone. Who knows how long, right? But I have to remind myself of this light-bulb moment. I’m not alone. I don’t have to do this alone.

Granted, it might not all be ok today, or tomorrow, or the day after. But I have faith that it will be ok. I don’t expect to get everything handed to me on a platter. I will work for it. And we will be ok.

Faith – isn’t it amazing?

Going Batty?

I have been rather absent. There’s been so much goings-on in my dreary life, that I just couldn’t muster the time to maintain my blog.

In the past few months I’ve had to move house, I’ve gone through a restructuring at work, oldest son has graduated from school, I’ve become a semi-permanent citizen of the EU states. And oh yeah, I’m full on into The Crises.

Through all of this, I have remained calm, controlled, strong, collected. Gone through each and every change methodically, with clear-cut precision. A pillar of reliability.

Super Woman

Super Woman

(please note – no swearing)

And now that all the upheaval is behind me, I should be relieved, stress-free. Relaxed.

Instead, I feel…well, lost. In limbo. Like something is missing. And frustrated. Mad as hell. At no-one in particular. At everyone in general. I think I’m losing my marbles.

Me, Crazy? Nah

Me, Crazy? Nah

I guess after months of being so…held together, keeping everything under control – making sure BH and kids are sorted, cared for, organising the move, the electricians, the painters, the cleaners – I find it a struggle to now adapt to the new situation.

And all of this leads me to have less patience than I normally have. I am less tolerant than I normally am. Which is not much under normal circumstances.

(again – please note the lack of swearing)

Now the vent.

On good days I cannot tolerate people who criticise (anyone/anything) without having a clue. With my newfound battiness, it’s ten times worse. If you expect me to do stuff, and then crit me for not doing it a specific way, or not arranging it for a specific day, then I feel you should shut your big fucking mouth and fucking-well do it yourself.

If you have a better idea, then fucking-well shut up and just do it. Don’t crit me when you are sitting on your fat ass doing fuckall, except stuffing your mouth like a pig and watching TV. Same goes for the little pricks that pass for my kids.

And don’t make conversation just for the sake of talking. Whatever you have to say must be bloodywell useful or interesting, or have the potential to make a difference in my day. If none of the above applies – shut your trap.

I’m sick and tired of being needed, being depended upon. Can’t anyone fuckingwell do anything on their own without involving me in every itty-bitty-shitty detail or decision in their lives?? When do I get to ask for help, huh??? Noooo. Never. It’s bloodywell unheard of.

I’m sick and tired of the pressure. I just want to breathe. I just want to not worry about every fucking thing. I want a normal fucking life, where I can rely on other people for a change. I want someone else to take responsibility and make some decisions for a change.

I’ve had enough of all this shit.

I need a holiday, and I need it bloodywell quickly, before I completely lose all my marbles.

Not Loony

Not Loony

PS: I don’t think I got my point across. I will have to try again next time 😉

“Kullid Kultcha”

I said my next post would be something positive, and lo and behold…this is IT!! Enjoy 😉

I have been naafi (melancholic, off-sorts, upset, insert more negative emotions here) on-off over the past few months. No specific reason. Just some life-changing decisions we’ve had to make, my health issues, my personal issues.

I think I’ve just been a bitch and I need to stop it. Lighten up. Have some fun.

And I started thinking of what I am leaving behind….which alternately makes me sad, but also happy, and proud.

I have been reflecting on our mannerisms and “traditions” that makes us who we are. “Us” being the “Kullids” (Coloured is the PC-word) in South Africa. The little things that make up our “Kultcha” (that’s how we pronounce it), our identity, the way we talk, how we socialize, and township living.

One of the things I remember with a smile on my face is the “groente karretjie” (veggie carts) that used to do the rounds every Sunday – up and down the streets they would go, honking their horns to let us know what they have to sell that day. “Squashees” and “Wortels” (carrots) and “Dhania” (coriander) and “Mammie, ek het Spinach ok vir jou!!” (Miss, I have spinach just for you). These carts were simple & functional – no comfort or speed considered. These guys were life-savers every time. And once they got to know you, you would be guaranteed delivery of your “pakkie” (package) of onions, potatoes – you name it – first thing in the morning. Now that is service.

Groente Karretjie

Groente Karretjie


This picture does not do our groente karretjies justice – it is way too posh! 🙂

Partying is in our nature. We live and breathe for it. We don’t need any occasion to “make it happen”. A simple “kuier” (visit from friends) could turn into a full-fledged “howza” or “gazi” (house party). All it takes is one house, some friends, a cell-phone (to call all the other buddies), some snacks, and lots of “dop” (booze).

I miss those days the most. Here (Germany) you need to make an appointment to see your friends, you cannot party without informing – and getting the OK- from all the neighbours and maybe even the police. Otherwise you may just get into some unwanted trouble. Too much PT if you ask me.

Howza!

Howza!

Something else we “Kullids” love doing – sitting in front of our houses and watching everyone drive by. This is called “gesien word” (being seen). This is one way to get a “street bash” started (no need to translate I’m sure). All we need are – grass (or something to sit on – a car will do) and music. We don’t even really need a house. Any strip of grass will do, or any available space where we can “Park” (literally park our cars) and hang out. Oh, did I mention the booze? 😉

Since there are only a few streets where all the “hip-and-happening” people will be cruising on (really, they cruise like in the movies) you are guaranteed to have a good party going within minutes – if you are hip-and-happening, they will stop to say hi…and there you go – party started!!

And don’t forget to dress to the nines. Can’t be seen in public wearing last years’ rags at all. Totally uncool. But of course, you also have to be prepared because…

….From there, we move on to a Disco (also known as a Night Club). For us it was Club Bel Air, or Sewende Laan, or Times4 (not sure if this still exists). Since we chose places which were close-by, we didn’t have to drive far. We could walk. And if you didn’t have a lift, well, there were plenty who would give you one. Our Disco’s catered for our musical needs and style, i.e. no rave or techno. Only house beats, R&B, Hip Hop. Real music 😉

And of course, on Monday, no one would be in the office. Everyone would be sick. “Ek voel nie lekker nie” (I don’t feel well) was the excuse for Monday morning absences. Naturally, after a while the bosses became aware of what exactly that meant (Hang-overs galore) – which meant the fella’s needed to be more careful with the Sunday night parties.

On a long-weekend, we would go to the club for a “16Hour” – we call it that since the disco would end only when the sun came up. For us this was a big deal. If you were not in the “16Hour” you were totally un-cool. Everyone was there, everyone was seen. And your “kit” (what you wore), who you danced with, how you danced, who you hooked up with would be the topic of conversation for the next weeks to come.

And that’s just some things that makes the Coloureds so….ja, colourful. The speech, the mannerisms, the music, the openness, their love of booze and parties.

Boy, I miss it.

Quirky Age

It seems like all I am doing is posting when I am frustrated. This will change. With my next post I promise 😉

I’ve told you before that I am going though the Crises (midlife and menopause). I find that I experience so many different emotions – sometimes in the span of a few seconds – leaving me feeling dizzy and not quite as “in control” as I like to be.

One minute I love my husband to the moon and back, and the next I just want to kick him to the moon and back. He is a wonderful, caring man, has a heart of gold. And he puts up with all my shit. What more can I ask for?

Give me strength!

Give me strength!

But I am. I want the guy that I married 19 years ago, back.

I have a question to everyone who have been married for 20 years or longer….How on earth do you do it?

OK, I lied. I have MANY questions.

How do you stay married for 20 years and more, and not feel like you sometimes could happily strangle the guy? How do you keep the magic? Is the guy you married still the same, or has he changed much more than you anticipated?

How do you stay in love with someone that long? How do you not fall “out” of love? What does it take to stay physically attracted to each other? Just…HOW????

Don’t tell me about love and loyalty, and date-nights and what-not. Because once date night is over, you come home with the same guy, with the same shitty habits. I want something I can work with, not fairy tales.

And before you start throwing daggers – I know we all go through changes, our bodies change, we grow hair in inappropriate places. Everything that was perky and pretty is now…less perky and pretty (matured we call it ;-))

And we get used to all those changes, we become comfortable with it. But he’s changed way beyond what I can cope with right now.

His mission

His mission

He eats like every meal might be his last. When he eats, it’s such a racket, I swear you can hear him from a mile away. And the food is all over his face. I mean really?! Using a knife and fork is a challenge – there’s more food around the plate than in the plate.

He is constantly in the kitchen – eating sweets, or cookies or something. It seems like he is scared he will die if his mouth is not moving.

And his tongue lolls. Like a dog’s. I swear, I am not making this up.

When we watch movies, his mouth moves as if he’s repeating the actor’s lines.

Even his laugh has changed. He laughs like a deranged person. We are too scared to go to the movies because you can hear him above all else.

The kids are embarrassed by him.

I cannot say when exactly all this started, but I noticed.

It is driving me C R A Z Y.

And because of this he has become so un-sexy, that I can’t get it up anymore. I’m totally off it. I am running out of excuses already! Granted, there might be other reasons for this (such as my M&M’s) but I dunno….surely I should be happy for any sex I get at this age, seeing that I might not be able to get it up without some help in the near future, right?

Is all of this attributable to the M&M’s – my crises? Is this all just me being a shitty person? I am really hating myself for thinking all of this and for being such a mean person.

So what now, I ask you?? Shall I tell him? I don’t want to hurt his feelings. He already thinks I am a shrew, so can you imagine what he will call me after this? Anyway, the boys have already – on numerous occasions – told him about this, but he ignores it.

Is this normal? Has your guy also changed like this?

Am I just full of shit???

H E L P

D

The Zeit

Your Body, Energy and Mind Blog

Caroline Criado-Perez

A Pox on the Patriarchy

Granny Smith: Unleashed

Observations and random thoughts from a "not so teenager."

The Daily Post

The Art and Craft of Blogging

Something Like a Storybook

from Morgan Bradham

HarsH ReaLiTy

A Good Blog is Hard to Find

Ray Ferrer - Emotion on Canvas

** OFFICIAL Site of Artist Ray Ferrer **

Abby Has Issues

I have issues. So do you.

The Jiggly Bits

...because life is funny.