...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.