Change of Address

So after having loads of fun playing on this Blog site - I have been told to grow up.
How rude!  I love this sandpit!

Some very bossy people told me that it is time that I migrate my blog on to Wordpress together with my new website. They were so intimidating and scary I eventually capitulated.

So, dear readers, you can continue to follow Alma's Blog at its new address http://outsourcedcommunications.co.za/almas-blog/
I have added a subscribe by e-mail  function (for the life of me I do not know how) so please do subscribe.

Thank you for your support and I hope you will visit me regularly at my new home.  I am still learning about my new neighborhood but have missed writing about the Alien, Chicken Man and the furry four so have loads of nonsense to share with you.....

I have not gone to ground, I have moved (Dumb dog!)

Modern Housewife Skills as per the Glug-Glug Wine Club

Talk around the Glug-Glug Wine Club dinner table each month always somehow turns to matters of the home.

Now you would think that we had more interesting things to talk about but discussing irons and clothes pegs is actually very enlightening.  It highlights just how stressful it is to run a home and the high level of skills required to do so successfully.

Required skills to be a successful modern housewife according to Glug Glug members

•            Weather forecaster: Deciding in the morning if the clouds are going to dissipate or not.  Often the deadline to put a load of washing on arrives and the sun has either appeared or disappeared.  What to do?  Bloody Durban weather.
•           Clothe peg connoisseur:  Apparently you can’t just hang your clothes up any old way.  There is a right way and a wrong way.  Who knew?  I just hang everything upside down.  It seems right for about 50% of the garments. Oh, and God help the lady that does not fold her washing with military precision when taking it down.
•       Iron technician:  Not all irons are created equally.  Besides which – steamers are the next best thing, not irons. As far as I am concerned, if an iron last longer than a year it is simply brilliant.
•       Dishwashing machine expert:  To rinse or not to rinse before packing in?  This argument gets discussed more frequently than the topic of husbands and becomes far too heated for my liking. Watch this space. This could be what starts WW3
•           Detergent detective:  Finding the latest, new, improved wunder-cleaner is essential.  Once found it then requires stalking of the cleaning lady to ensure that she only uses the recommended amount and not the whole bottle in one day. The stalking is essential as the said bottle of phenomenal cleaner costs more than your entire month’s grocery budget.
•       Pantry science:  Not all tins live up to their expiry dates. Knowing which ones you can use after those pesky dates takes years of experience.  Rotating produce and stock control requires meticulousness attention to detail.  I don’t have a pantry. What a relief.
•       Human Resources Degree:  Actually, discussing the management of household cleaning staff requires a book, not a blog.  The stories that get shared each month have me either gasping in horror or gasping for breath they make me laugh so much.  I am so grateful for my sweet, short sighted Gladys.

And you thought we just discussed sauvignon, sex, shopping and shoes at wine club, right?

Glug-Glug ladies, thank you so much for always being there as my mentors and tutors as I bumble my way through housewifery. My house is still standing and no-one has died as yet so I must be doing some of it right. 

Happy Valentine's Day

Just wondering.  Do you think roses go on  the endangered species list after Valentine's day?  Also - do all the unsold heart-shaped chocolates get melted down and turned into Easter eggs?

Anyway - I did send this to my business e-mail database today and thought I would share it with you.

Perfume and Pompoms

Without starting to sound like a gardening blog, considering my Jasmine post, I love the perfume that some plants have.  "Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow" trees emit the most glorious smell.  I have never had any luck with roses but if one has the patience to adhere to their long list of fiddly and fanciful requirements – roses will bless you with their beautiful scent.

One of the many Yesterday, Today and Tomorrow trees in my  jungle, umm, garden.

I have this ugly, messy, unruly plant growing like a weed in my garden.  For 11 out of 12 months they serve no purpose except as privacy from our neighbours who are so cool we don’t really need privacy from them.  They also drop copious amounts of large, elongated, shrivelled leaves. (The plants – not the neighbours.  Really!)  I have no clue what they are called – their Latin, biological and common name all elude me.)

What is so special about “plant with no name” is that the ugly brown clumps at the end of their stalks turn into white laced pompoms and drenched the air with a powerful aroma that can be smelt for miles.  The smell permeates every inch of the house and the garden.  This only lasts a couple of weeks but I look forward to those 2 weeks every year.  The perfume is so potent that one could almost get a headache from it. 

They look like Lamingtons, don't they?

I am so grateful that these “weeds” grow so prolifically in my garden.  


Please come and visit me one evening (they only give off their precious aroma at night) in January/February and allow the glorious perfume to uplift you. 

If you know what they are called – I’ll give you a glass of wine.  Fair trade?

A recipe shared...

The other day I added a sparkly, dazzling, disco-like button to my blog...I'll wait while you look.  Seen it?  Okay - let's continue.
This button, when clicked, will take you to a blog called "No, Really, you can eat it" (yes, really) where Melanie shares recipes and all sorts of interesting stuff.

She offered to give me a recipe as thanks for sharing her shiny button.  I advised her that a salad recipe would be appreciated as it is so gosh darn hot in Durban at the moment.

Here is the recipe.  Enjoy!
http://noreallyyoucaneatit.blogspot.com/2012/01/i-dont-like-mondays_23.html

Gifts and Gratitude

I am a rather simple chick.  I have no illusions of grandeur and my wishes are verging on the dull and darn right boring.

• I wish the Alien would listen to me the first time I say something (Not a difficult request surely?)
• I wish my cats and dog would stop shedding hair everywhere (I am drowning in their hair, people.  HELP!)
• I wish alcohol didn’t give me a hangover (How can something so delightful be so punishing?  It’s cruel I tell you.)
• I wish TV adverts weren’t so bloody loud (They are at least 1000 decibels louder than the programme you just fell asleep to.)
• I wish women could stand together and force feminine hygiene companies to bring down the prices of sanitary towels/tampons (Come on, it’s a rip off.  I expect to see cotton wool prices after gold and oil prices on business news.  It is clearly a rare commodity)

When it comes to my birthday I am therefore totally cool with just a well-worded card or an e-mail or a phone call.  No mess, no fuss required.  I am over 40 remember.  As long as Chicken Man and the Alien remember to give me an extra hug and kiss (and exempt me from cooking dinner) I am a happy camper.

We have a no-gift policy in our family.  One of my brothers does not conform to this policy however and, together with his wife, always gets me the most apt and amazing gift.  I was nursing the last fumes in my perfume bottle and VOILA – they gave me perfume for Christmas. I was growing crow’s feet like ostrich feet around my eyes squinting against the Durban sun and VOILA – they gave me sunglasses. So it goes on...

This year they gave me something that I have wanted since the product first hit the market.  My obsession for reading has never been a secret.  So, when I opened their gift to me last night, I could not contain my tears of gratitude.  I have a Kindle! 

What more can I say?  A fantasy comes true. I’ll ignore the cat and dog hairs and pay full price for tampons as I lose myself in my love for the written word on my new toy.  Thank you Herman and Michaela.

My joy cannot really be captured by Kodak but thank you Vernon for sending me this pic.

The Alien is no longer Alienated

The Alien turned 15 in December.  Of course, all she wanted was a Blackberry.  Every other need and want paled in comparison to her desire to have BBM (Blackberry Messenger)

I stuck to my guns of not getting her one - with difficulty though.  The nagging, tantrums, depression and blackmail would have had the most hardened Marine SEAL crying like a baby!

Her joy when she received a Blackberry from her Uncle and Aunt was a sight to behold though.

The look of love as she clapped eyes on her BB for the first time almost brings tears to ones eyes??

Then there is the "look Mom - I have a Blackberry.  How cool am I?" stage.  Pouting is of course compulsory.

This is followed by the far away stare of an Alien plotting all the possibilities opened up to her thanks to finally becoming a part of the BBM generation.

The Blackberry has been surgically attached to the end of her hand since she received it.  

Quick question: Is there medication I should be giving her or counselling sessions available to ensure that she is emotionally prepared to get through the first day of school without it tomorrow?

Makes You Think, Doesn’t It?

The Alien’s plea for a Blackberry in order to make her life whole has not waned since I wrote about it here.  

She has quite a sense of humour that kid.  When all the children in her class were told to place their phones on the teacher’s desk prior to writing an exam – she placed her calculator on the desk.  She had written” Blackberry” on the calculator.  At least the teacher appreciated her humour and informed the Alien after the exam that she did not have any missed calls or BBM’s.

The Alien still does not have a Facebook account so, when I read this little piece she had written, I took a look at myself.  Was she suggesting something?  Am I a neglectful wife and mother?  “Nah, this seems to be how everyone is these days.” She said.  Phew.  Still – it makes you think, doesn’t it?

Modern Times – guest blog by the Alien

I wonder why your faces don’t change colour from staring at the light coming from your screen all day.

Your daily dose of exercise is poking people?

You are following him, she is following you.  Who is actually the leader in this whole following pack?

Your laptop is an upgrade of your husband/wife.  It goes wherever you go.  You tell it all your feelings and it responds with about 100 comments.

And if your computer shuts down – your life shuts down.  Oh no! Now you have to talk face-to-face!

I’ll give you some pointers about real life.

•   You don’t poke people when you want their attention nor do you put up your thumb and say “like” when they say something interesting. 
• When you get bored of the conversation, you can’t shut down.
• You don’t actually follow people wherever they go because that doesn’t lead to friendship – only restraining orders.
• Your computer is NOT your life.            

Alrighty then, best I listen to my daughter and sign off, pack my laptop away and GET A LIFE.

...With Natural Ingredients.

I wrote a post a while ago about how we have to believe a lot of the mumbo jumbo that advertisers claim about their products. (Read here)

Cosmetic companies also make a lot of claims about natural this and organic that.  I, well actually Roxy the Foxy, have proven that one company is not lying.

The Alien won a Palmer’s hamper filled with all their cocoa butter and olive butter products.  Cool.  They all smelt very nice and Alien and I looked forward to trying them out.

An Amoeba on steroids?

Yesterday I found this strange thing lying on the floor.  Is it a potatoe, I thought.  I gave it a hesitant kick.  Nope – too light to be a potatoe.  Maybe a sponge?  We don’t have sponges in the house so unless that Squarepants dude paid us a fatal visit – not possible.  Mmmmm.  Having established that it was not alive and dangerous, I picked it up.  I smelt it (as one does to unknown objects.)

It was a bar of soap that Roxy had been chewing on!  What?  The dog may not be a genius but she is not THAT stupid.  Yes, her breath does smell at times but we surely haven’t given her that much of a complex about it?  Anyway – why not chew on a tube of toothpaste then?

Out of curiosity, I had to prove that this soap’s cocoa butter ingredient was what Roxy was after and it wasn’t just a moment of full moon madness for her.

I put the bar of soap back, right next to the Dove soap, and Voila! Proof that you can believe what some products claim about natural (and edible) ingredients.  Best I hide the shampoo with lemon extract.

"Ooh yummy.  My snack is back"

"I'll take that now, thank you, before you remove it again"

"Now for a bit of Cocoa Butter indulgence.  Move aside, Mom"

Overworked and Underpaid

I have been feeling sorry for Chicken Man of late.  He is under so much stress, running around like a headless chicken to keep his customers and bosses happy.

Like most companies, those higher up in the pecking order are the ones that reap the rewards of his moo-tivated and egg-zacting hard work.

But no matter where on the food chain we are – we all need to stop for a good chirple every now and again...

October

I reread the post I wrote last year about breast cancer awareness as it is October (again?!).  It is ironic that the inspirational Steve Jobs died yesterday at the age of 56 thanks to cancer.  I had a very unproductive day workwise as I watched videos of his brilliant speeches and read articles on his life. 

Cancer does not discriminate.  Steve Jobs’s exceptional mind and infinite wealth could not save him from the ravages of cancer.   

“Being the richest man in the cemetery doesn’t matter to me. Going to bed at night saying we’ve done something wonderful, that’s what matters to me” – Steve Jobs

Please, beautiful people, don’t be complacent if you suspect anything is not as it should be. Cancer kills more people every year than AIDS, tuberculosis and malaria combined.

"Your time on this earth is limited; don’t live someone else's life, live by your vision." - Steve Jobs, 1955 - 2011

Raising Teenagers is Like Nailing Jelly to a Tree

School holidays are starting tomorrow.  I have stocked up on wine and informed everyone who knows me that I am available for coffee/lunch/anything that will give me a couple of hours break from being a taxi driver with an onboard ATM and fast food outlet.

I have very generously offered the Alien a couple of really awesome activity options available during the holidays.  The ungrateful eye-rolling and “Ag Maaaa” was all the thanks I got.  Fine!

I have found a solution which will hopefully elicit at least an "Oh Cool" response from my darling Alien...

Is there a Doctor in the House?

This was the subject of an e-mail I sent out to all my friends who live in Durban North.  I was gatvol with my doctor and was looking for another “quack” to give my hard-earned Rands to.

Just like with mechanics, plumbers and electricians,  we do not question doctors because they are so very qualified and clever and can sprout words that make absolutely no sense what so ever to us.  I strongly object to being treated like an ignoramus and so I make sure I do my research (thank you, Google) before and after every qualified person appointment.

So, the Alien had a cough.  No big deal I hear you say, except the cough continued for months. Our now ex-GP treated me like I was a neurotic, overprotective, Munchausen by proxy freak. 

A general warning: Don’t mess with any mother with more than 1 brain cell, clever people!  We are genetically programmed to protect our young. We will kill for our offspring even if they are teenagers.

Once ex- GP finally started taking my concerns seriously I was exposed to the overwhelming and scary concept of spending money quicker than you can earn it.  How do these specialists and laboratories decide on their exorbitant prices? Are they based on their Mercedes and Ferrari repayments?

After 3 weeks of emptying my purse, bank balance and life savings, selling a kidney and gaining shares at the Pharmacy besides the frustration of not knowing what was wrong with the Alien - I have a healthy daughter and a newfound respect for radiographers.  Doctors and specialists do not even look at the “pictures” that radiographers take. They base their decisions purely on the reports the radiographers send them (and how much money they need for their next overseas vacation)

To the folk who took such ...errr...revealing photos of my daughter, you are my heroes. You may have the crappiest selection of ancient magazines in your waiting room but you were the voice of tangible, understandable reason through the medical nightmare I have just emerged from.  A bargain at the price. 

Friday Follow

I was seriously excited/honoured/chuffed to be featured in "A Daft Scots Lass" blog yesterday. All the usual suspects were there - The Alien, Chicken Man, The Furry 4 and Ama Glug Glug Wine Club.
Thank you Gillian!

 

Time Out

I seem to have been out and about quite a bit lately what with networking functions, client appointments, wine club and book launches. This is a good thing as it gives my failing eyesight a break from staring at my computer screen.

On Friday I attended the much anticipated Sunflower Fund/ Mums Mail Very Vintage High Tea. The ladies really pull out all the stops to dress up for this event. I am not a great theme dresser-upper but the theme afforded me the opportunity to wear my wedding dress again. My bit for recycling done for the year.

As always – great entertainment, good food, seriously impressive lucky draw prizes (no, I did not win) and the best goody bag ever. Well done to Alice Leah and the Mums Mail team.

On Sunday I went to a concert. A concert for teenager types. What was I thinking?! If the Alien ever says I don’t do anything for her, I shall remind her about this concert. A band called Goodluck was opening for the main act which was Locnville – those young lads with freakishly deep voices. It was at the Chris Saunders Park in Umhlanga which Chicken Man did not even know existed. He needs to get out more often, clearly.

After cussing and cursing in a queue for over an hour thanks to poor organisation at the gates – we finally got in to the park. Although a group of some of my favourite friends were there, we selfishly pitched our camper chairs as far away from the stage as possible. I was hoping the volume would be softer there. That didn’t really happen.

But what did happen is that Chicken Man and I had a wonderful afternoon in the sun together, sipping liquid refreshments and munching on the picnic items I had packed, whilst watching the passing parade of today’s youth. The Alien and her friend only appeared when nourishment was required.

It made me realise just how little quality time Chicken Man and I have together. A problem that I am sure a lot of busy, modern day couples face? Most weekends he is taking countless phone calls and stressing out about trucks, deliveries and blah blah and usually ends up going into the office. I am always listening with half an ear as I continue working on my laptop.

No phones and no laptop. No talking about chickens or social media. Just 2 relaxed old folks enjoying surprisingly good music amongst the shorts and shiny locks of the energetic, bright-eyed Goodluck and Locnville fans.

Land Invaders 0 – Jasmine 1 (Finally)

As I sit working, my lounge is filled with the fragrance of my Jasmine creeper. It is the most beautiful, uplifting smell. It reminds me of my years living in Johannesburg where Jasmine grows like a weed.

I am not sure if Jasmine likes growing in Durban much because it has taken over 5 years for it to bloom. Having said that – I know that the blame for its ridiculously slow growth is not just the climate. The daily land invasions are the main culprits.

The land invaders i.e. the troops of vervet monkeys who visit, either first thing in the morning or about 4 in the afternoon, used to love eating the tiny jasmine buds. The poor creeper did not stand a chance against the sheer number of monkeys enjoying a post paw-paw snack.

My garden has about 6 paw-paw trees and a guava tree. Not that I ever eat either the paw-paws or the guavas. I leave the fruit for my cheeky, uninvited guests in the hope that this will discourage them from jumping into the kitchen and helping themselves to bread, bananas and anything else edible they can find at Alma’s Kitchen Restaurant. I do not feed them yet they ignore the bills for the buffet menu they have helped themselves to.

I want to hate them, particularly when they tear apart the garbage bag and throw stuff about looking for tasty titbits. How can I hate these animals with their human-like traits?

Before the arrival of Roxy – the monkeys were bolder and took complete advantage of my hospitable nature. Whilst watching TV one afternoon (Animal Planet of course) I thought Cuddles was lying on the floor next to my chair. I then realised it was a monkey, sitting next to me, engrossed in the Animal Planet programme I was watching.

I looked back and there they all were. The whole troop was parking off on our outdoor furniture, watching TV and waiting for afternoon tea to be served!

Books are Lekker, né?

Have I mentioned that I love reading? No? How remiss of me.

Books have been to blame for many a sleepless night as I force my eyelids open and coerce my eyes to focus so that I can read one more chapter... then just another chapter...one more....and so it goes until it is 3:00am and I have finished the book. Sound familiar? I bet it does.

As much as I enjoy reading all the great best-selling international novelists like Stieg Larsson, Dan Brown, Jodi Picoult, Dean Koontz etc - I do so love reading South African novels. It’s refreshing to be able to identify with the places, people, humour and idiosyncrasies that are uniquely South African.

South Africa has some great writers and here in Durban North, to compensate for the shocking drivers, we have Books & Books. A delightful book store which regularly host some of our South African authors.

I went there to listen to Jenny Hobbs, author of "Kitchen Boy", whose talk was fascinating as she and guests alike shared details of what South Africans went through during World War 2. Kitchen Boy was an amazing read, made even more special with references to familiar spots within KwaZulu-Natal and Durban.
(Excuse the crappy photos. My Blackberry is lacking in that function)


I just loved the “Ants” books so jumped at the chance to meet Annica Foxcroft. She was promoting the 3rd in her Ants series namely “Ants in the Big Onion.” Her previous 2 books – “There are Ants in my Sugar” and “More Ants!” were books that one could easily read in a couple of days and which had you smiling the whole way through. Annica was an eloquent and amusing speaker whose love for the written word clearly extends to the spoken word.


Although I had already met Di Smith, I wanted to hear all about her new book – “You’re Awesome.” I purchased her book not for myself - but for The Alien. The positive messages in her book are just what a teenager needs to empower themselves to get through the unimaginably difficult world they live in.

I am looking forward to hearing Mandy Weiner whose book, “Killing Kebble”, has attracted a lot of publicity. It is definitely not a book that you can put down and pick up at whim. There are so many characters and story lines that it demands you pay attention. Mmm, I may have to borrow one of the Aliens Ritalin tablets.

Books & Books, Janine O’Conner and your entire team, thank you for promoting South African writers. Please can you invite some of my other favourite SA writers like Fiona Snyckers (Her Trinity books are a treat for all ages) and Ndumiso Ngcobo (Because it is cathartic to laugh about our diverse nation) and Paige Nick (still waiting for her books which I ordered but I love her column in the Sunday Times)

Any more South African writers you can recommend? My fellow Ama Glug- Glugger, Lesmarie, gave me the book “Mushy Peas on Toast” by Laurian Clemence. Looks like just the type of book I want to read. Loud and proud – it’s South African.

Driving Miss Dilly

The comment on my Ubuntu Girl blog begs explanation. Hopping into my car to go and pick up the Alien from school is not a walk in the park. I firmly believe that I take my life into my hands the same as people who bungee jump off bridges using dental floss instead of rope.

I live in Durban North. Unlike the notion that there are tea-rooms/cafés on every street corner in Durban – in Durban North they have schools. There are schools everywhere. 2 to 3 schools to every street. Seriously, if you want to go into a lucrative business, open a chassis company in Durban North. With every school comes hundreds of speed bumps the size of Table Mountain just waiting to stuff up your undercarriage.

Having said that, it blows my mind that I seem to be constantly stuck behind an old person every time I go to pick up the Alien. How is that possible? If Durban North is full of schools – where do these old people come from? What are they doing trawling the streets of Durban North? Is there a policy of old aged homes to school ratio published in some government gazette that I do not know about?

Don’t get me wrong. I love old people. I just don’t believe that they should be driving once Alzheimer’s has set in and they can no remember why they are in a car let alone the fact that they are actually the driver. Clearly senile dementia is popular amongst the Durban North senior citizens

I have a low patience threshold when driving. I have mentioned my propensity to drive like Schumacher hence being stuck behind antiques who have forgotten they are driving cars and not ox wagons, does tend to test my every red-haired nerve fibre.

Once I get to the Alien’s school (more than likely late thanks to the old folk not remembering how to get out of 1st gear) I face a different road rage challenge. Mothers of teenagers – I have news for you. Your precious, precocious brats ARE capable of walking more than 20 steps from the school gate to your car. There is absolutely no reason for you to block the entire road so that Her Highness does not have to walk too far to find you. Bus drivers – the vehicles you drive are very visible thanks to their size. You can park slightly further away from the gate. The Aliens will find you. You are hard to miss.


Yep – the afternoon school run is harrowing. The Alien always looks a tad nervous when she gets into the car as she is tentatively waiting for the cussing out of parents and the geriatric population in general.

When I manoeuvre my car into the garage after each school run I breathe a sigh of relief. I have dodged the bullet yet again. Or, maybe more correctly, fellow parents and the elderly have dodged my bullets. Until the next day....

p.s. – you may notice that my blogsite has had some surgery. A nip and a tuck here and a bit of botox there and voila! – My blog has done a Michael Jackson- like transformation. You like?

Happy 93rd Birthday Nelson Mandela

These Awesome SA badges say it all.

The UBUNTU Girl

Carte Blanche on a Sunday night has always been a must watch on my TV viewing schedule. Sometimes I am not sure why because it is generally very depressing. Not the light hearted frivolity that one needs to end a weekend.

They do feature happy or inspiring stories from time to time. One such insert was on The Ubuntu Girl – Sonja Kruse. She left her dorp of Eshowe with R100, a camera and a backpack to walk around South Africa. Bloody nuts, right? I agree.

So when I saw that she was going to be the guest speaker at The Inspiring Women Network banquet at the Riverside Hotel nearby – I immediately booked my ticket (besides - the dress code was traditional so I could finally wear my sparkly salwar again) I am not the jump out of aeroplanes or off bridges type of person. I see getting in my car to collect the Alien from school as quite adventurous considering how some people drive. I am therefore interested to hear what makes people do crazy things. Why do they do it? Isn't a balanced life staying at home with a glass of wine in one hand and the telly remote in the other? What gene am I missing that these lunatics seem to have a double dose of?

Well, besides having inherited the red hair gene in abundance, Sonja proved to be the most normal, down to earth person I have ever met. Her infectious giggle and sparkling personality is undoubtedly what earned her an invite into strangers’ homes every night of her year-long walkabout.

My key take-out after listening to the Ubuntu girl? We Saffers are still a distrusting and nervous bunch even with people like Sonja highlighting just how much good there is in this country. I am a positive and optimistic person but underlying fears and prejudices, although for the most part buried and ignored, will always rear their negative head and influence my thoughts and actions.

So, although I won’t be catching a taxi to Orania any time soon - I will make a more concerted effort to keep my mind open and my fears based on fact and not on prejudice. I still believe that collecting the Alien from school is a justified fear by the way.

Links for the UBUNTU Girl:
www.theubuntugirl.co.za
ubuntuabundance@gmail.com
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