Eating Christmas Alive!

Christmas is finally here! And this year we went all out! More all-out than last year even!

For the last two weeks my mom, sister and I have been planning, scheming, preparing and perfecting our Christmas and have succeeded in producing Christmas Tree cupcakes, Christmas bauble shortbread cookies, a Christmas cake, Christmas pudding, mince pies, champagne jellies, brandy butter and as if that wasn’t enough, a massive gingerbread house complete with Christmas Trees, Santa Claus and a Gingerbread Family having a sit down meal! And that is just the sweet stuff.

As I am sure you have guessed by now, Christmas is a BIG deal in our family. It starts with the baking, and then the lights go up, then the Christmas tree gets decorated, all with Christmas carols playing in the background, and that is before we even make it to Christmas eve.

Actually Christmas isn’t just a big deal because of the food, and this year we had an amazing selection of presents under the tree, but that wasn’t it either. For me, Christmas is about the amazing moments shared with the special people that we love.

This year it all started on Christmas Eve. My aunt, uncle and cousin arrived from Plettenberg Bay and by some miracle my slightly confused granny arrived from Pretoria, IN ONE PIECE! And suddenly Christmas had arrived. My aunt in her incredibly cute Santa hat, the Christmas crackers on the table, the smell of the turkey roasting in the oven, and then we opened the champagne! This is what I truly love about Christmas and after pigging out on probably the hugest turkey I have ever seen, the whole family ended up on the beach, with our dog Charlie, at 11 in the evening trying desperately to make space for dessert.

But this is where the problem starts, because suddenly the little seven year old who hides in my head somewhere realizes that in only an hour it is Christmas and that little seven year old wants to be knee deep in Christmas wrapping paper, squealing from the latest sugar high, chocolate smeared all over my face and putting my grubby little paws all over my brand new roller skates! But now that all my siblings have grown up they don’t share this need so I end up being that annoying 22 year old who is way too old to be begging to open presents on Christmas Eve.

This results in me going to bed full but way too excited. I don’t sleep and then at 4:30 in the morning I am wide awake and positively desperate to open presents knowing full well that all the rest of my family wants is to sleep in.

So this year, I decided I would let them sleep a little so after sitting in front of the TV for an hour and a half with my teddy on my lap, I finally mad my mom and step dad some coffee and ventured upstairs to see if there was life. There wasn’t! But after an hour the coffee somehow managed to resuscitate my parents and the three of us made our way downstairs to start cleaning up (no presents until the house is clean).

Slowly but surely different family members started poking their heads out from behind their doors and it seemed to me that we were well on our way to being able to unwrap presents! And it was still before 9 in the morning!!! So I hopped in the shower (no presents until everyone is showered and dressed), made my bed (you get the point) and rushed out to sit under the Christmas tree so that we could start.

After what seemed like an age my granny finally appeared and I was absolutely positive that it was now time for presents! That little seven year old in my head went into over drive and I immediately felt as if I had eaten several slabs of chocolate. I was too excited to function.

And then, the worst possible thing (for a seven year old) happened. Granny announced that she had to go to church first. And church takes forever! And I don’t mean that it takes forever because usually you’re so bored out of your skull that time does that weird reverse slow motion moonwalk thing. I mean that when half of your family goes to church and you are sitting under a Christmas tree trying to figure out which prezzie is yours and what is in it, time doesn’t just slow down; it stops completely!!!

Seven year old Kat literally threw a tantrum and it took literally all my strength to stop 22 year old Kat from doing the same thing.

I am happy to report though, that I have now eaten myself into a coma, I unwrapped some pretty cool prezzies, I cuddled my teddy and made sure she knew it was Christmas, I ate some more and listened to the cheesiest Christmas carols imaginable and both seven year old and 22 year old Kats are happy. To say that I have gone all out is an under-statement and tomorrow I am hitting the Boxing Day sales to buy some pants that fit over my huge belly!

But until then I am going to go carry on feeding my face. Merry Christmas all! Have a wonderful day. 

The Difference is the Same

I, like every other girl, like to believe that I am different,but that in itself seems to make me just like the rest.

The problem is that I want to be the girl that stops a man's heart, making me the only woman the he will ever love, but in order for that to happen I need to be entirely unique. That said, I also want to know that I am not weird, or a freak or even worse, unlovable!

So where is the line? At which point do I cross over from being unique and mysterious, to someone who should be in a straight jacket? And once I've decided on the optimum level of unique-ness, how do I become that?

When I was younger I thought that girls with tattoos and piercings and an 'emo' haircut were unique because in the area I grew up in it was. But if you Google 'emo haircuts' you'll find a billion pictures of girls with no tan, black hair and piercings literally up to their eyeballs who listen to emo music and write depressing poems about death.

So... Not unique then?

And this goes for every other group of people that claims to be unique because that in itself is a stereotype. So what then is the game plan? What is the one thing that will make me uniquely irresistible?

Well, the truth is that you won't find the answer on Google. You'll find it in Terrace at two o'clock in the morning when you are drunkenly singing pianoman, when you're desperately trying to find a closet in Game to hide in when you awkwardly bump into your ex-boyfriend when you're clearly having a bad face day, or when you're in the bib (library) trying with all your might to cram an entire semester's worth of work into your brain when you are clearly meant to fail... Just like everybody else.

Party at my House?

Last week I was left in charge of looking after my parent’s house. So immediately, in my mind I saw wild parties and waking up with Charlie (our rather elephant-sized dog) on my bed, spray-painted blue and wearing a party hat wondering why the hell her water bowl tasted like vodka.

In reality it was far more different. Firstly, I happened to choose the worst weekend in the world to house sit because everyone who wasn’t already going to a 21^st party, was stuck in the bib/SS stressing themselves half to death and back about tests, exams or projects. Secondly, I happened to forget that Gordon’s Bay is too far from Stellies to justify coming round for a one night jol but too close to justify an all weekend piss up. And last, but not least, I forgot to take into account that my mom is damn terrifying and that any party would have resulted in my immediate death.

So instead, what happened was that the ‘ever responsible’ Kat spent her weekend walking Charlie on the beach, watching TV and trying desperately to stop myself from raiding my step-dad’s wine cellar. In other words, it was a bit of a fail. And to make matters worse, the wind in Gordon’s Bay is so insanely crazy that I nearly lost the world’s biggest dog on the beach as even she struggled to keep her feet on the ground.

Oh, and I nearly left out the worst part; our house has a ghost!

Well, I actually don’t believe in ghosts but there is definitely something spooky happening in that house. Apart from it having a billion rooms that are all dark and shadowy and could easily house several ghosts (provided they existed), it is also rumoured that the house used to be a convent. Now I’m sorry but graveyards, churches and convents have got to be the spookiest places in the world!

So there I was, alone in this terrifying house with a guard dog that, whilst being big and scary, is actually a glorified teddy bear and I am not supposed to leave!  

Anyways, after spooking myself out to the point where sleep was no longer an option, I decided to explore a little and find the source of all these creepy noises and creaks. What a bad idea!!! You know that stupid blonde chick in all horror movies that goes looking for trouble? That is what I was doing and I could feel my brain swearing at me all the while. I couldn’t believe it when I finally got upstairs to my mom’s bedroom when suddenly I heard this major crash coming from downstairs.

I have never run so fast in my entire life! It took me two seconds to get downstairs, into my room, Charlie at my side and the door locked, screaming for dear life!

I woke up the next morning thinking, “What an idiot!”

So after three nights of trauma, my parents finally came home. All I wanted was a hug and some serious loving and I feel that after house sitting while they spent the weekend on the beach with my super cool aunt that I deserved a little snuggle and some love.

The reality is that I ended up unpacking the car while my mom made my sister a veg curry! The good news is that I will be trusted to house sit again, and this is just a warning mom, but we are going to go wild!!! Party at my house anyone??

Finding Good Red Wine on a Student Budget

Those of you who know me know for a fact that I am at Stellenbosch primarily for the student life. Yes I happen to be studying a degree and I suppose I have at least finally made it to my (hopefully) final year at Stellenbosch, but my actual full time goal is to get as far as possible by doing as little as possible so that I can focus on other fun stuff like drinking, and drinking, an occasional dive and then some more drinking.

This of course is not helped by the fact that when I do occasionally leave Stellies for the supposed safety of home and my family I find one of my favourite drinking partners who also happens to like good red wine and in vast quantities waiting for someone who will help him fully appreciate a couple of bottles.

I am speaking of course, about my semi-alcoholic substitute dad, who spends all of his non-work hours drinking, making beer, buying wine and looking for some cool new adventure to do in his trusted Land Rover, Sandy. How could that not be the coolest weekend ever?

So a couple weeks ago when I was driving home, I was handed a flier through my car window about a wine sale at Somerbosch. Now, as a general rule I tend to try and take as few fliers as possible because invariably they land up in the passenger seat’s foot-well which has become my sister’s new junk storage place and I would hate to add to her vast treasure of sweet wrappers and slips which currently occupy the space.

But I knew from previous experience that every once in a while Somerbosch has a huge wine sale and it is usually well worth your while so I took the flier. And then I did a terrible thing which I am sure my mom will never forgive me for, I made the mistake of telling Harold (my not-so-evil step dad) about it.

So Harold and I piled the entire family into the car and headed off to Somerbosch only to find out once we were there that the sale was in fact far larger than what we originally thought and that there was a free wine tasting of all the wines on offer. Only problem was that we only had a half hour left in which to drink as much wine as possible.

Now, my sister is the type of wine drinker who prefers it sweet, in a box and while sitting at a sticky table either at Bohos or Aandklas, which means that she wasn’t nearly as excited about this prospect as we were. Add to that a thumping headache and the thought of going home afterwards to study some horribly difficult Engineering subject and she decided to sit this one out.

Then there is my mum, who likes wine but has recently realised that the wine gods are against her and even a little bit of wine makes her feel like she’s been dragged through a washing machine backwards the next morning so she was taking it pretty slowly too.

And then there is my thirteen year old brother who cannot wait to one day be old enough to get absolutely shmashed with his two older sisters and would dearly love to sneak a couple sips of each of our glasses but unfortunately may not yet.

So that left Harold and I, and a table of amazingly good red wines at our disposal. To make matters even worse was that some of the wine had more than a fifty percent mark down on the original price. It was like two kids in a candy shop. We went crazy and boy oh boy was it fun.

It wasn’t long before we were back in the car, my head slightly spinning with Sandy’s boot filled with 15 cases of wine and my mum’s monthly food budget completely trashed. Not to worry though, because at least we had wine.

The problem now of course, is that he doesn’t have enough wine racks for all the wine that he bought, so I have decided to make it my soul mission to ensure that the two of us drink as much of it as possible as soon as possible to ensure that there aren’t boxes lying around the house. He’s already in trouble with mom; I’m just looking out for my drinking buddy. Although there is something to be said about getting drunk with the people you love on good quality wine that you didn’t even pay for!

And to think, most people leave Stellies to get away from the drinking. 

Happily Ever After

I can’t say for certain when it first happened. I guess it happens to every girl. At some point, while we’re growing up, somehow we get it into our heads that fairy tales can come true. We spend our childhood watching Disney movies with pretty princesses and perfect men who end up living happily ever after and from that very first happy ending we want nothing more than for that ending to come true for us.

My parents got divorced when I was quite young and I was lucky enough to end up with four amazing parents as opposed to just two, but it wasn’t the fairy tale story I had read so much about and my parents’ lives read nothing like a Disney movie. I guess no one’s really does. But it got me thinking as to where I got this fantasy and why I have based so many on my life’s decisions on a fantasy which, as far as my limited experience goes, may be completely unfounded. Where did I get this urge to believe in something that only seems to exist in books and movies?

And that’s the one flaw with movies and books; they’re selling you a big, perfect moment that only comes once in a lifetime, when actually life is made up of a sequence of little moments, which all have the potential to be whatever you want them to be. So maybe I’m not a princess, and maybe there is no Prince Charming out there waiting to swoop in and save me from all my problems. Maybe, just maybe, there is a guy out there who can share in all of my little moments and make each one of them worth far more than any make believe prince ever could.

Maybe somewhere in this world there is someone as crazy and as adventurous as I am and if I am lucky then one day when I am looking back on my life I will see a series of fantastically beautiful, little moments and I will know that for once Walt Disney got it wrong and that actually the fairy tale ending is not an ending at all but rather the beginning of something amazing.

The nicest thing about this theory is that I can so easily believe it. I have seen other people experience such wondrous, little moments and I know without a doubt that these were more real, and loving, and true than any film could ever hope to capture.

And it is with this theory in mind that I must congratulate two of my closest friends on their recent engagement. In them I have witnessed such love and honesty and true kindness not only towards each other but towards everything else in their lives. I have seen so many of their little moments and I know with every fiber of my being that they have found the ultimate fairy tale. In each other they have found a love that will last forever. And I could not be happier for them. 

Fluffy But Passing Micros

At the beginning of this semester, my microbiology lecturer announced that our class was to be her new guinea pigs. She had come up with a new form of lecturing and she was going to try it on us, then submit a paper regarding the applicability of this teaching method. At the time I thought it was a joke and swiftly moved on with my life. Over the past few weeks however, I have noticed that I am most definitely a guinea pig.

This means that my class is now situated in a computer lab where we have instant access to all relevant reading materials, we often form groups to discuss whatever boring as hell paper she has given us and I am told that as of next week we will be receiving video phone calls from respected microbiologists to tell us about said boring papers.

As if this wasn’t enough it seems that one of the things she has done in her new teaching style is to award virtual badges for tasks well done. These badges can then be used to negotiate marks for us borderline cases who are always skirting the ridge of losing a friend as well as for those people who have 29 less friends but still need an extra percentage to reach that 80%.

This has turned my class into a complete laughing stock. Everyone is trying literally everything in their power to gain badges without much thought as to how funny this must be for my lecturer. We have become her minions and if she had to tell us to jump for a badge, we would go out and by a trampoline to make sure we got the highest. And I have a sneaky suspicion that Prof is sitting in her office and having a good laugh at all of us idiots.

So today, in an attempt to get a badge, I spent hours combing through 9Gag, YouTube and even a couple scientific journals in order to find something semi-interesting to post on the Facebook page (apparently we get badges for interaction) and when I eventually found something, I rushed over to the page only to find that it was already there and had in fact been posted by someone else.

It is official, my completely unfounded hate for the girl who got there first is evidence that not only have I been a guinea pig in someone’s social experiment but I have fallen for it hook, line and sinker. Problem is that because I am so incredibly stupid, and have a wonderful social life, I have absolutely no choice but to continue being a guinea pig, get back onto 9Gag, and beat the bitch to it.

Just call me fluffy.

Drowning My Ideas

It has come to my attention that over the last couple of years I have often come up with solutions to life; Flashing Tampons, marrying Jacob Zuma and various other ridiculous ideas. The problem is that nobody else seems to think that they are nearly as wonderful as I do. Well this one is going to change your mind. This time I am going to start a trend.

Actually, in all honesty, you are probably all going to read this blog, (hopefully) have a little giggle and then immediately forget everything that I said. But, because I believe that one day my silly little blog will change someone’s life I am going to tell you about my new great invention anyway.

Okay, so the problem is that I always have my most creative moments when I am in the shower where I cannot write them down. Then by the time I have gotten out of the shower, got dressed and sat down at my computer to write, all my awesome ideas are gone. This has been happening for a while now (seems my memory is on the blink) and I have been trying to find a solution that doesn’t involve me hoping out mid-shower, running around my flat butt-naked looking for a pen to scribble down my idea thus terrifying my neighbours, my sister and worst of all her guests.

So what is my grand solution to a problem which NOBODY else cares about? Well the solution is easy, I have decided that I am going to go out and buy a couple white board markers, store them in my shower and then when I have an AHA! moment (it’s bound to happen eventually) I can just scribble it on the wall of my shower.

In the interest of full disclosure I should inform you all that this morning was my first shower with the markers. I spent about fifteen minutes (3x the length of my normal shower) standing in the shower waiting for an idea to strike. When it eventually did I quickly scribbled down some notes on the idea and then rushed the rest of my shower. I quickly got out and sat down to my computer to write. It was at this point that I realized just how lucky you all are that I share my wonderful ideas with you.

I finished writing, took a deep breath, looked around and realized that I was sitting at my desk, still butt-naked, still terrifying my neighbours, and covered in the ink of what turned out to be a permanent marker. Maybe I should just stick to being JZ’s housewife. 

PS. Why is it that Jacob Zuma is always in the shower stories? 

Business as a Biology

At the beginning of last week I walked into my genetics class, after making sure sixty billion times that I had built my timetable correctly, and that I had all the right venues and as I took my seat I was relieved to see that the lecturer standing at the front of the class was one which I remembered from a previous semester. This was a good indication that I had indeed found the correct class.

However, as the class started I was shocked to find that the first lecture slide had the heading ‘Entrepreneurship’. Now anyone who has ever met a biology student knows that there are two things which apply to almost all of us. The first is that we are the only group of scientists which are completely allergic to maths and the second is that we are generally clueless when it comes to anything business related.

I was in shock and was about to do that awkwardly embarrassing half stand up, half crawl out of the class which I haven’t had to do since first year, when I looked around and realized that almost all of the faces in the lecture hall looked familiar. I paused and thank goodness I did because in the next five seconds the lecturer went on to explain that this particular module was business for biologists and I was actually in the right place.

After my initial sigh of relief, I suddenly found myself right back in panic mode as I thought back to my Grade 9 accounting classes and about how terrifying business could be. I took another look at the faces around the room and I saw my feelings mirrored in every one of their faces. We were all terrified and every single one of us considered getting up and running for our lives.

It is now more than a week later. I have attended all the classes and yesterday marked our first tutorial and I am proud to say that I not only understand what is going on but I am, in fact, loving this module. And this morning at the eight o’clock lecture that I actually managed to attend I noticed that not only was I enjoying it but so was the rest of the class.

So I would just like to say to Dr Paul Hills (the lecturer) that I am incredibly grateful for all his weird examples, strange old quotes, and creative thinking exercises which have not only made lectures on business (yuk) manageable, but actually enjoyable too. And to all of my classmates who allowed me (the random outsider) into your groups and discussions, thank you too. Because if it wasn't for your semi-familiar faces I would never have found the correct venue. 

Super Kat

Like so many other expert level procrastinators, and the general populous of useless people who never achieve their goals, I like to start things on a Monday. I never start a new goal or lifestyle or diet on any other day of the week. These things have to start on days which are easy to measure, days which are perfect and days which result in an extra week of laziness if a silly mistake (usually the product of my subconscious) happens to ruin the day.

So, because today is Monday and because term has now started, and the stress of having a birthday party is behind me today was supposed to mark the day of the new super Kat version 6billion and three. But it is only lunch time and I have already decided that today is not the day for me to launch the new super Kat because I am slightly sick, or because I am too busy this week, or because it is too hot today.

Yes, the expert of excuses is back and I have come up with every possible reason to not go to gym this afternoon. I have also come up with a billion different reasons for why I shouldn’t go to the library and get some work done. I haven’t done the dishes, but don’t worry because I have an excuse for that too.

And this is the problem with new goals. In my mind if I fail day one of the goal, the goal is completely abolished when actually what I should be thinking is if I don’t do it today, then I have to do it tomorrow along with all the other things I had planned for tomorrow. So dishes that aren’t washed today make a bigger pile for tomorrow. Homework that isn’t done today will be added to tomorrow’s stresses and work. And ultimately this is going to result in a fat Kat who lives in a messy flat and is once again cramming an entire semester’s worth of work into her head a week (the night before) before the exam.

So, because today is Super Kat day I will be doing twice as much work today so that I can spend twice as long at gym tomorrow when I am feeling like a human being again and in the meantime I am going to get off of this stupid blog and go wash the dishes bearing in mind that when I eventually get round to my new diet that I will be using fewer dishes. 

Time To Retire

To say that this morning started abruptly would be an epic understatement. I am not entirely sure what woke me but suddenly I was sitting bolt upright in my bed with such an extreme ache in my head that it felt as if someone had lodged an axe in it. This was followed by my stomach performing an incredibly impressive number of backflips and then I made the mistake of thinking, just to add insult to injury.

My first thought was; OMG please tell me that I didn’t drive last night! This was followed by; What the hell happened last night? And finally; Stupid polka dot dress! As I am sure you have all figured out by now, I was HORRIBLY hungover this morning. And you’re probably wondering why? Well even if you aren’t, I am going to tell you.

So, yesterday I celebrated my aging another year and gaining a whole new bunch of grey hairs with a kid’s birthday party with all my semi-alcoholic friends. Now after my last birthday party my besty’s boyfriend had to carry me home, feed me chicken McNuggets and tuck me into bed, so I already knew that I was in for a rough time.

I then went and aggravated the powers that be by wearing my Polka Dot dress. For those of you who don’t know what this means I will just say that every time I have worn that dress I have had a blackout binge. Apparently the gods just couldn’t believe that one human being could be so completely suicidal and decided that I needed to be punished for my alcoholic tendencies.

This punishment came in the form of too many jelloshots, a bottle of Villiera’s best champagne, strawberry daiquiris and a few too many rounds of Kings. This resulted in an extremely drunk Kat who only made it to a 18:30 bed time and who doesn’t remember most of the… (Well this is awkward) afternoon.

But not to worry, because from what I see in the pictures it looks as if I enjoyed my birthday party and luckily for me I have you wonderful creatures who got me home safe and sound and even made sure that I had a bucket to throw up in which I didn’t even end up using (self-five).

This morning, however, was a very different story. After chundering my lungs out and reminding myself how stupid I am I realised one very important life lesson; I should NEVER EVER binge drink. So don’t worry Murphy, I have learnt my lesson. I will not be tempting fate again and on that note I am officially retiring the Polka Dot dress.

You will NOT be missed.

A Happy Kat is a Grateful Kat

It seems to me that once again, time has run away from me and I have woken up to realise that it is almost August (when did that happen?), I haven’t blogged in what feels like a lifetime and I wouldn’t even know where to start telling you all what I have been up to lately. But wow, I have been doing some pretty incredible things lately.

It only takes one read through of my blogposts to realise that I have insanely crazy mood swings and that I am probably a little psycho and most likely in desperate need of a shrink. The good news however, is that this week I have been on an incredible high.

This is strange considering that somehow this week already marks the beginning of third term and the beginning of my (hopefully) final year at Stellenbosch, which means that I should be complaining about how short the holidays were, how much I hate my new lecturers and how I am already freaking out about all the work I have to do.

Instead, I am sitting at my computer with an incredible hangover, starting to get sick and in a flat that looks like it was hit by a hurricane and I couldn’t possibly be happier.

So what’s with the sudden high? How did I finally get out of my stupid, self-involved slump? Well the truth is that, as usual, my friends and family came to my rescue. I don’t know what it was about the last couple weeks but it seems as if suddenly you all decided to make me feel like the luckiest girl alive. And boy oh boy it is magnificent.

Between awesome dinner parties, many a coffee date, a couple nights out and meeting the coolest kid on campus plus a super awesome birthday party (which I don’t remember) I have done so many amazing things and seen most of my favourite people that I now feel like a brand new person without a care in the world.

So, in the hopes of maintaining my new happy state I have decided that August is going to be a month of smiles, laughter, new places and new things with all my wonderful friends so that when the inevitable mood swing happens and I end up feeling like I have once again hit rock bottom I will at least still have some friends who will pick me back up, dust me off and tell me to get over myself.

And to all of you wonderful creatures who helped me out in the last couple weeks, I must say that I am eternally grateful and I love you all madly.  

Fat Ducks Make For Happy Kats

For a while now my parents have been going on and on about how wonderful Foie Gras is. As far as I can work out, Foie Gras is the liver of a duck that has been overfed to the point where it is about to explode. As you can imagine, this has all you green, ‘animals have emotions,’ ‘I’ll support any cause’ type people up in a huff because of the inhuman treatment of the animals. I imagine however that all of those people who are against it have never tried Foie Gras because I tried it today for the first time ever and I am now firmly camped in team kill-the-stupid-ducks.

It all started a couple weeks ago when my mum and I were on Google, looking for places that sell truffle oil, and we stumbled across the Wild Peacock Emporium in Stellenbosch. According to their website they not only stocked a wide range of exotic treats and indeed the truffle oil that I was looking for but they also stocked Foie Gras.

Immediately my mum and I were excited and we decided that if I could find any, we had to buy it. So off I went in search of Foie Gras and Truffle Oil. And when I got to the Wild Peacock I could not have been more delighted. The staff were friendly, happy and helpful and ensured that my every desire was immediately attended to. I couldn’t help laughing however when I saw the shock on their faces as I asked for what I am sure were the two most expensive items in the shop.

They obliged me though and soon I was standing at the freezer with the Foie Gras in my hands. Due to my complete ignorance, I had no idea what I was actually looking for and it wasn’t long before I was on the phone to mom asking for her advice. It was now the shop attendants turn to laugh at me but he assured me that I had the right thing and that it was going to be absolutely wonderful.

I was then put in charge of finding the perfect wine with which to pair the Foie Gras, and my mom insisted that we needed Klein Constantia’s Vin De Constance which is a sweet wine with a very interesting history and many rave reviews. So off I went to Klein Constantia in pursuit of the correct wine.

Again I was greeted by a friendly salesman who looked at me as if I was crazy when I marched in and asked for the most expensive wine on the list. The couple who had been speaking to the salesman before me were intrigued by my order and it didn’t take long for me to strike up a conversation with the couple while the salesman packaged the beautiful bottle up for me. By the time I left the beautiful farm I felt positively buoyant, filled with excitement and happy about the friends that I had made along the way.

So, in lieu of the upcoming Bastille Day, my mum made us a French feast worth dying for and after my first mouthful I must admit that I am completely in love. The Foie Gras literally melts in your mouth and the red wine reduction added just the right combination of sweet and fruity to the meal. This, and the perfect wine pairing led to a meal which I will no doubt never be able to forget. And I urge all you wannabe hippies to get over your need for a cause, empty out your bank accounts and spoil yourself with this exquisite delicacy.

Winter Wonderland

So here we are for the second week in a row, sitting at The Dock, with my vodka and lime in hand, waiting for the Winter Wonderland to begin, again.

Due to the ridiculous cold and miserable weather last weekend the parade had to be cancelled and attendance was poor to say the least.

But as I sit here watching all the people milling around I am filled with a quiet hope that this weekend will be better. The lights are up, the streets have been swept, and the ghost house is ready to terrify. Gordons Bay looks absolutely wonderful dressed up to the nines.

There is gluwein brewing, there are fires on every street corner, carnival rides and facepaint. This is truly fun for all shapes and sizes. If you are looking for some fun and festivities for the weekend then I would highly recommend the Gordons Bay Winter Wonderland

Holiday Fun

It seems to me that this year is just disappearing before my eyes and before I knew it I looked up and exams were over; it was holiday again. Back in the days of highschool when holidays were only four weeks long it seemed as if the holiday was always jam packed full of activities or farm related duties and I invariably went back to school more exhausted than ever.

Then I went to varsity and suddenly everything changed. July holidays were suddenly two months long and being stuck on the farm in Carolina became a living nightmare but staying in the ghost town which Stellenbosch becomes during holidays was even worse.

This year is different though because my mom has finally moved down to the Western Cape like all the other sane South Africans who enjoy having clean towns, proper roads and government officials who aren’t robbing you blind. This means that I now get to spend my holidays in Gordon’s Bay, which is close enough to Cape Town to be awesome but far enough so that you don’t have to be a snooty rich snob to afford just being alive.

So now my holiday is jam packed with all the amazing vistas, fun playtime and exquisite meals and I have been thoroughly enjoying every second of it. I have therefore decided that from now on I would like to climb into bed at night, thoroughly exhausted because I have been doing all the best things which Cape Town has to offer.

And that way I will guarantee that when December creeps up on me, I will have loads of amazing memories to remember this rather important year by. 

Rainbows, Mealworms and a Happy Kat

I found myself searching. I was searching for new smells, new tastes and new experiences. I was looking for somewhere with brighter colours, bigger smiles and somewhere that would set alight my imagination and leave me in utter awe of our world, and Cape Town in particular.

And I found it.

I spent today at the Good Food and Wine show at the CTICC in Cape Town. Year after year I have heard about how spectacular it is and wished beyond all wishing that one day I would attend it with someone who is as passionate about different and new flavours as I am and this year I finally managed to attend with the perfect partner in crime; my mum.

It was a last minute decision and we were really happy that we managed to get tickets because the alternative was being at home with my stepdad, trying desperately to not help or get in the way while he installed aluminium folding doors. God, that sounds even more boring now than it did this morning.

Anyway, mum and I were off on an adventure and were super excited to see what would await us. There was absolutely no way that we could possibly have been disappointed and I honestly have no idea where to begin to describe it but I can tell you this; today I ate the hugest oyster I have ever, ever seen:

I saw macaroons that could put even the best rainbow to shame:

And I ate a cracker with cream cheese, sweet chilli sauce… and MEALWORMS:

It was absolutely spectacular, and a better day could not have been had. Especially not if I had been trying to put in doors. 

Sink or Swim

Recently I have found that whenever I look back at the previous three years of my life, I look at only the bad things that have happened. Granted all the major events in my life have been rather depressing but still, I thought that for a change I would look at some of the more positive things that I have done.

I should point out that this sudden realisation stems back to a phone call I received yesterday. A couple months ago I was working as a divemaster on an open water course. For those of you who don’t know what that means; I was assisting people who were learning how to dive. This includes the entirely un-glamorous task of packing and unpacking dive gear that has invariably been peed in, making sure that the group stays together underwater and that nothing goes wrong, and because something always goes wrong, knowing how to fix it when it does.

This course was different however. I have worked on many courses with students; people who are my age, in the same mind-set as me and people who are more scared of failing than they are of putting their face underwater. This course was to be with adults though. Now this wasn’t too intimidating. I can speak to adults quite easily and I have a strong belief in respecting my elders that was drilled into me by many years of education at a private, Christian boarding school.

The course was going just fine until we got everyone into the swimming pool for the first session. The minute their faces went into the water chaos ensued and it no longer mattered how old they were, all that mattered was making sure that everyone got to the bottom safely. There were some people at the bottom whilst others tried their best to get down and still others who were panicking at the surface.

This is how I got to know Mari. She was just one of those women who, despite the fact that she was petrified, tried again and again to get down and she did eventually and now has a qualification to prove it. It is this quality that I admired in her.

Anyway, yesterday she phoned me to find out when she could collect her qualification. Usually these sorts of phone calls involve very little personality and a lot of to-the-point questions followed by the beep from the hang-up. Mari asked me how I was, told me she was going diving soon, asked me how the diving was going and was just generally interested in my life.

I realised once again that she has many qualities that I truly admire, but her ability to continue trying even when she thought for sure that she was drowning is the quality that has stuck with me. It is the reason why this morning when I woke up I thought about the fact that I have recently become both a SCUBA and First Aid instructor, I have a dive job at the Maties Underwater club, I am in my final year of a BSc degree, I write for the University Newspaper and I am a regular supporter of several charities and donate blood. And best of all, I have this blog.

These are all things which make me incredibly happy. These are things which make me realize that I can swim even though the last three years have tried to tie lead weights around my feet and drown me. And besides, I actually love being underwater. 

Goodbye Friend

I know that you don’t owe me anything. Hell, I even know that I have absolutely no right to be upset. We have only ever, and will only ever be friends and although you will probably never notice, or admit it to yourself, there is a part of me that loves you.

I didn’t do it on purpose. In fact, I tried as hard as I possibly could to not let it happen. I guess I’ve known for a while now that while a part of my heart belongs to you, a part of yours has always and will always belong to her.

And rightfully so. She is beautiful, and probably the only person I know who is nearly as magnificent as you. She has the intelligence and the upbringing and the lifestyle that completely compliments yours. In comparison to her… actually I couldn’t bring myself to compare myself to her. I could never compare to her.

Not in your eyes anyway.

I have wanted to tell you all of this for such a long time but I am far too scared. I am terrified of exposing myself to you, for fear of what you could do to my heart, for fear of what you would do to my heart.

But I will say it now, because I have finally realised that I could never just be friends with you. I can try as hard as I want, but I am always going to be disappointed when you cancel on me, I am always going to be saddened when I can’t see you, I am always going to feel lost when I am reminded that you don’t care for me the way that I care for you.

So this is goodbye. Because I had no other way to tell you. Telling you in person would just be terrifying, telling you when you have already left will mean that your new life will be tainted with bad memories, and watching you walk away from me would finally and truly kill me.

So here it is, my goodbye. I know it isn’t much, but it’s all that is left of my soul, and I am giving it to you.

Lyrics and Memories

To many people music is just noise. Hell, my own sister, can listen to a song and not be able to tell you what instruments were played, or whether there were any cool musical flares like louds and softs, or voice overs, or a great crescendo followed by a dramatic drop. Well, basically she is musically illiterate.

But everyone, and I mean even my semi-tone deaf mom, can hear a song’s lyrics. The words are the important part to most people, and the thing that makes a song make or break. It’s the difference between interesting or a jumbled noise.

Lyrics are cool and remind us of a moment in our lives or they speak to our deepest fears and regrets or they just make us feel good. Some lyrics can leave us in tears, or have us rolling around on the floor laughing or get two best friends singing at the top of their lungs in a car. Lyrics, and music, are a really important aspect of most of our lives.

The question now, is what is your favourite? What is that one song for you?

Is it some super cheesy Afrikaans sokkie song like Kurt Daren’s Papsopwinterwaternat? Or is it a beautiful love song from a musical like Phantom of the Opera? Maybe it’s from a band that will be remembered forever like Queen or maybe it’s from some 60’s band that everyone has already forgotten about. Maybe it’s a parody by some random that a friend sent to you on Facebook or a cover by a guy who is now a YouTube celeb.

It actually doesn’t really matter what it is, chances are you love the song because it reminds you of something; something amazing, or special, or happy. It reminds you of a time in your life when you were young, single and stupid. Or it reminds you of your crazy best friend singing along to Greenday in her knickers while you serenade your mirror using a hairbrush as a microphone.

The point is that lyrics can put us in a memory and make us incredibly happy.

I just seriously pity you if your happiest memory involves Kurt Darren and a song about being wet. 

Ostrich Gone Wild

It has recently been brought to my attention that I blog a lot more often during exam season. This is probably due to the fact that I am looking for any and all reasons to procrastinate and my desperate need to avoid studying because let’s be honest, there is only so much a person wants to know about the role of microorganisms in sewage water treatment.

This is probably also the reason why during exam season the whole world seems to go psycho. It is not because everyone has suddenly gone a bit loopy but rather because I suddenly start paying attention to news updates and my Twitter feed.

In the last week I have heard about how some semi-famous chick beat up her super-famous sister’s boyfriend in an elevator. I have finally joined the rest of the world in the knowledge that Gareth Cliff is trying to attract all the new Hippie Vibes by doing ‘Un-Radio’. I have heard things about Oscar’s trial that couldn’t possibly have been interesting and never would have made the newspapers. And I have watched various funny videos of cats smoking cigarettes and people falling on their faces.

It has been pretty entertaining just watching the crazy world pass-by, while I sit at my desk with my super boring textbooks spread out in front of me as if I had some intention of actually reading them, but my absolute favourite crazy moment of the week came to my attention last night and this is the one thing that makes me think that, just maybe, exam season makes the world go completely psycho.

Last night my stepdad asked me to find an article online based on a headline he had seen while driving home from work. The headline had something to do with a woman whose car had been written off by an ostrich on the west coast somewhere. When I eventually found the article in Die Burger it turned out that some woman’s car had been attacked and completely ruined by a female ostrich. The woman had been unable to speak for three days following the incident.

It was a pretty funny story but rather a let-down seeing as the entire story was in the headline and you didn’t go on to read that this ostrich had been genetically engineered to have genes from an elephant that had suddenly made it aggressive. No, it was just a female ostrich taking her frustrations out on a Merc because it was that time of the month.

My Google search for news related articles about ostriches yielded something far, far funnier. It seems that yesterday in Beijing there was a police chase which resulted in blocked off roads, major traffic and cordoned off areas due to the fact that an ostrich had decided to escape and was running around causing chaos.

Now imagine, if you will, that you are driving down the road and you’re wondering why the hell the traffic is so bad when suddenly out of nowhere in the middle of a city an ostrich come running straight at you!

You can’t help but wonder if the world has gone mad.

This is even worse when you imagine yourself to be the telephone operator for the Beijing police.

Operator: “Hello, what is your emergency?”

Some super hyper, anxious, Chinese guy: “I have just had a car accident… with an ostrich… in Beijing…”

Who makes that call? And what do you do when you get that call? And what do you do when your life-long dream is to catch criminals and instead you find yourself chasing down a crazy ostrich in the middle of Beijing?

I’m telling you, the world has gone mad, but thank goodness it has because otherwise I would have nothing to write about and I would have to be studying instead of watching a crazy ostrich on YouTube. 

Mr Road Runner

Big Bum Cheeks

So after my last blog article, in which I told you all that I was busy getting sick and that I had to have a vitamin B shot this morning, I got a text from a friend of mine. Cute, right? It is probably a message to say that he hopes I feel better soon or offering to make me chicken noodle soup.

WRONG

“Hehe, you got plenty of bum cheek for those shots.”

To say that I am offended would be a major understatement. The worst part was that I was soundly asleep when he sent the text so I only got it this morning. Trust me, being woken up to a reminder about your big, fat ass is not a good way to wake up.

So here I am, standing in front of my mirror twirling around while trying to catch my tail just so that I can see if the problem is really that bad. So far I have only managed to make myself dizzy and realized that stubbing my toe on the bottom of my bed while twirling around at a billion miles per hour is not only painful but results in blood loss.

The problem is that I have been on a diet for pretty much the whole year and whilst it was initially very effective, it has now come to a rather depressing standstill in which I am not just not losing weight but I think I may be gaining weight. And all this after a day of shopping with my mom in which I had to put at least three items back on the shelf because my damn ass was too big.

So, what is the solution? Well, I thought about going to gym this morning but I am now way too self-conscious to put on gym tights and way too depressed to be seen in public so instead I am going to devour an entire box of Ultramel custard and feel sorry for myself. 

Donkey Flu and Excuses

So after an amazing morning of shopping with my mom, followed by coffee with my sister and my mom, I decided I would come home, take a quick nap and then finally get back into studying. Exams start on Tuesday and I fear that if I don’t pass this time Stellenbosch might actually finally decide that it is sick and tired of me and kick me out.

It is therefore imperative that I start studying at some point seeing as this week has been one that contained such procrastination that I found myself actually transposing music last night.

But as I lay there in my bed, my eyes slowly opening to the scary big bad world, I immediately knew that something was wrong. I could feel that slow sinus headache creeping up on me and the few sneezes from earlier had turned to full on sinusitis. I am getting sick.

To be honest I am not sure why I am surprised. At the end of every semester, exams creep up on me and a week before they are due to start I hit panic stations. I then spend the next week looking for excuses to not study while my sub-conscious stresses out and kills my immune system. I then spend the next three weeks of exams, and half of my holiday, man down with some freaky flu that’s named after some animal.

I have decided that I am going to do things a little different this year though. I have just been to the shops and bought MedLemon, flu tabs, orange juice and Panados. I am going to annihilate those little creepy-crawlies that are busy taking over my body and then tomorrow morning I am going to get over my fear of needles and my pride and let a nurse stick a whole bunch of vitamin B into my bum cheek.  

I am going to make sure that this stupid flu doesn’t ruin my exams and half my holidays. And just in case things get scary, I have bought sour worms and custard, because let’s be honest, you won’t care about your stupid diet when you die from donkey flu.

The only problem is that now I need to find a new excuse to tell my parents when they ask me why I have failed genetics… again! 

The Charlie Crises

It was Sunday Afternoon and another peaceful family weekend in Gordon’s Bay was coming to a close. It was Mother’s Day weekend and my aunt and uncle had travelled down from Plettenberg Bay to come visit. It had been a great weekend and I was sad that it was coming to an end but busy planning the following week in my mind.

It was then that my brother walked in. Now usually towards the end of the weekend my brother will come in for a last minute snuggle before I have to say goodbye, but this time was different. He looked devastated and when I asked him what was wrong he just burst into tears.

Now, I am officially the most over-protective older sister that a 12 year old boy could ever have and when my little brother is sad it literally breaks my heart. I went into panic mode immediately, and was busy deciding how I was going to kill the girl who had broken my little boy’s heart when he turned to me and said, “Charlie’s gone. She’s missing.”

Charlie is our dog. She’s a 6 year old boerboel and probably the most beautiful dog in the world (except when she slobbers like a boerboel). She is also very stupid and I could see immediately why he was so worried about her.

Well after half an hour of running around Gordon’s Bay like madman in Minnie Mouse tights and flirting with the paramedics in the hopes of getting some information about Charlie (no ulterior motives, promise) I eventually found a garage attendant who knew where she was. Well, actually he knew where a “big beige scary dog” was but I assumed he meant Charlie seeing as she kind of matches the description.

According to the parking attendant, Charlie was at an animal hospital called Animals. Now there are two animal hospitals in Gordon’s Bay, neither of which is open on a Sunday and neither of which is called Animals. So after looking for Animals for another good 10 minutes we eventually drove passed a sign that said Gordon’s Bay Animal Welfare Shelter.

And she was there.

And she was safe.

And she wasn't hurt.

My heart literally soared and I thought I was going to pass out I was so relieved.

Anyway, Charlie is now home safe and I could swear that she actually enjoyed her little adventure and all the attention she got because of it and it wouldn’t entirely surprise me if she made a habit out of it. The other good news is that my heart eventually started beating at its normal rhythm again and I didn’t have to kill the little girl who my brother has fallen in love with. Just as well because she studies karate and could probably kick my ass. 

Stupid Humans

We do some pretty stupid things.

And I don’t mean ‘we’ as in you and I. No, I mean ‘we’, the royal we, the all-encompassing we that refers to you and me and every other human being on this planet.  The ‘we’ that refers to all us idiots who hurt the ones that we love, and leave chaos in our wake.  The ‘we’ that makes us believe that we are better than everybody else and that makes us think that we need only serve ourselves. The ‘we’ that got us into this mess in the first place.

Yes, we humans do some pretty stupid things. And if 'we' are what represents ‘intelligent life’ then I fear for the sake of all other forms of life.

Actually, I think life would be easier if I was a microorganism with a 20 min doubling time and imminent senescence; a life where my only purpose would be to create copies of myself. It would be a simple life. I would have flagella that moved me in twirls and runs until I was safely ensconced in a place with a high concentration of nutrients, I wouldn’t need a partner to replicate and I would die or form a biofilm way before I even had time to get lonely.

Unfortunately, I am a human and therefore have to live a life in which I crave to put some meaning, or make sense of, because the thought of dying without making an impression on this world terrifies me. I make decisions based on what I think would be viewed as acceptable to my peers and am so terrified of messing up that I couldn’t ever possibly be brave enough to take the step that would make me brilliant.

I am a human and I do some pretty damn stupid things.

And because the latest fashion is to live life with no regrets and to make sure that everyone sees me living my life with no regrets I will pretend like I have never done anything stupid, or anything that I may regret, and I’ll be sure to hashtag myself on social media as living the ultimate life.

But the truth is this; life is messy, it hurts like hell sometimes and some nights you sit at home, lonely as hell, watching some soppy chick flick that makes you want to cry your eyes out and binge eat chocolate. And that is okay, because don’t worry, we’re all doing it.

So no, my life is not perfect and I have done some pretty stupid things. Actually I am busy going through some pretty crappy stuff at the moment. But the important thing is that this too will pass and then I’ll go back to being a normal student whose life goal is to reproduce and find high concentrations of alcohol. And how different is that from a bacterium anyway?