Ebs

The news is more than 24 hours old

But the thought still makes my blood run cold.

What is it about death that makes us so still? I literally feel like I’m the stationary item on the conveyor belt being pulled unwillingly along. Like time’s soldiers have hauled me into the march.

Yesterday, our friend died. He was only 27.

When a person that young dies of a heart attack it constitutes a tragedy. He went to bed and never woke up…He leaves behind his young wife and son.

You will meet very few people in your life whose passing will not only affect your life but the life of all your friends and family. I don’t know a person who didn’t love him and I don’t know another person in my life who I can say that about.

He was one of those people who always kept their heads above water and who found a solution to his problems. I hope he got to teach enough people about this before he died; about how not to let yourself be defeated.

Our conversations were hardly serious though. He had such a quick and clever sense of humour which resulted in great banter whenever we were in the same company. In fact almost all my memories of him are of us laughing.

From where I was standing it always looked like he sold himself short and that life was harder for him than the rest of us (even though he did his best to hide this). I hope that the doors that were closed on earth will open for him in the afterlife and the opportunities that never came around will be waiting for him there.

Take the rest that you deserve. 

MEET THE MRS

Since I have last blogged a huge event has taken place. I chose not to blog about that time in the life. Not only was I way too busy to update my blog but also I wanted to be a bride who made the focus of marriage the time after the wedding. So what has the last month of my life been like as a married woman?
 
phenomenal. 

Seriously beyond any expectations.

Unlike most married couples, my husband and I spent our honeymoon apart. He started a new job just 2 days after our wedding. I was at home for a few days before I went back to work. Those few days have been the highlight in so many ways. Being at home meant I had the time to be a real housewife. Fully equipped to wake up early and make him a nutritious breakfast; pack in a nutritious lunch and have a nutritious meal waiting for him when he got home. I had a happy and well-fed husband who probably could have gotten used to that type of treatment. In addition, I had time to familiarise myself with our new (STUNNING) home and quaint garden. It was pure bliss, I felt as if I had stepped into the person I was waiting to be for all my life.


I was perfectly stimulated, strangely creative, exceedingly happy and totally in my element. I experienced the most 'job satisfaction' I ever felt. This was based on the fact that I had my client/husband was happy and healthy and receiving the best possible care. Dreams of climbing the corporate ladder were replaced with dreams of cooking up the perfect pasta and watching my husband have his mind blown. Right then I would have gladly given up my 8 years (and counting) of studying for a shot at becoming the wife of the month/year/decade/century.

But just before I could get my cooking colours; just before my thumbs turned green I had to step back into reality. The reality of the 2011 marriage/ family. Where we establish and aspire towards a lifestyle that is always slightly out of reach (purely because when we get to a place where we are comfortable we decide to add to our expenses). Is there really no place in society for the stay-at-home-wife?

Well, unless you marry a prince or an old millionaire- but these come with their own set of issues (the main ones being in the recruitment phase).

I am glad I got a taste of that living. Sadly though, I also now have a taste for that lifestyle. I often think of my days at home while I stare blankly out of my office window. I frown at the thought of coming home to a dirty house, a stack of dishes and a series of dying plants in my garden. Needless to say I have not found the essential middle ground between work and home-life. Has anyone?

With no routine in place, the cleaning has become a mission (sometimes days go by and old food comes to life in the fridge). Our clean washing has been forgotten in the machine more than once, turning it into dirty washing again. And we have settled for fast food more often than we would like to. Having to work full-time has taken the joy out of my housework.

On the days I get it right I follow this schedule
5.00AM: Rise and definitely definitely do not shine
5.10AM: Wake up because of the snooze button - panic sets in
5.15AM: Put a load of washing in: do not mix dark and light colours but do not always have enough washing  to fill the tub/ Do left over dishes
5.35AM: Shower, get dressed, perform morning prayers
6.10AM: Pack lunch for husband and me
6.20AM: Grab something out of the freezer to defrost for dinner and leave for work

This usually happens on a Monday.
I face a steady decline that starts on the Tuesday.
By Friday my schedule looks like this

7.00AM: Wake up and panic
7.15AM: Leave the house having done a cowboy-wash and shouting at my husband that he must buy something for lunch because I'm late.

Upon the suggestion of my husband, we will be taking some time out over the Easter holidays to draw up a programme. This came after I expressed my unhappiness about how tired we both are all the time and how the house just never looks clean anymore.

I guess if this is going to work I have to get rid of my feminine ego and agree to let him help me around the house on a daily basis.

How do you know when you are living the dream?

A QUICKIE

monday morning epiphanies

What are your life's success indicators? 

Most of us go through life never thinking about this. If we never choose when to call ourselves a success then we might never be able to administer the all important pat-on-the-back one day. 

I propose the idea of the Quality of Time. 

Just today I decided that when I get to see the people I am in love with every day, then I will call myself a success. Every morning I wake up and drive away from love into my job (which at the moment is pretty much like driving over the edge of a cliff and falling for 8.5 hours into the mouth of a monster). 

I wish I could replace the characters in my weekday with the people that populate my weekend. The former are mostly the people that life imposes on me and the latter are the people I choose over and over again (and I will choose them in Heaven one day).

People are always reminding us about how short life is but no one ever promotes shifting the focus of our goals. 

We can enrich the time that we do have by filling it with the faces and voices of the best people we know. 

Today I will begin to design the day that includes my favourite things and I will commit to a plan that will make this day a month, a year and a lifetime for me.

me and my money

money
or no money
do we have what it takes to handle both scenes?

these past few days have been minimalistic. I bought Fiance a tv for his birthday and prepared myself for the 2 weeks of poverty that would follow. Tomorrow is pay day and I'd like to reflect on the free life lessons that have shown themselves while I've been without big green.
LESSON # 1 
listen to your mother!
Of all the things that my mother has taught me this may be the only thing that changed the course of my life:

Stop Living Above Your Means

It was something I needed to hear continuously. Through the phase of my life when all my friends wore branded clothing this was an especially hard pill to swallow. No one wants to feel like an outsider during those tender teenage years.  I would cry for money, pretend I had it, use it to make myself fit in.
When I got my first part-time job I was naturally out of control spending my money on clothing and stuff for my friends.  On the occasions that I had to ask my mother to spot me some rands before pay day she would really let me have it. I still never understood the lesson even though I was already 20.
6 years on her wisdom hit as the recession did, it seemed as though we were one of the only families who were completely unaffected.  My mother never let the fear of keeping up with the Joneses run her into debt. 
It seems that when presented with the option of buying something on credit or going without, most people choose the former. 

Although it was a trying process for us both, my mother did manage to instill in me the sense to choose the latter.

In fact, the idea of debt abhors me- on the occasion that I have had to borrow money from anyone I make it a point of returning the money at the first chance I get.

LESSON # 2
no money = more resourceful
Well that’s a contradiction if I ever saw one.
Or is it?
When I don’t have money I find myself digging into the recesses of my brain to come up with ideas on how to survive. And by survive I don’t literally mean stay alive. Rather I am talking about getting through the weekend outings with the girls/ the birthday presents that need to be bought/ the random and frequent celebrations that tend to spring out of nowhere/ finding interesting things to do with Fiance. 
It’s as if my creative instincts are awakened and ideas are oozing out of my ears.  I think it’s when I tap into my poverty-success resource. It’s a term that I’ve given to the mechanism involved in all the famous rags to riches stories. From the Great Gatsby, to Oprah, to my own parents. When people have nothing they work so much harder to make a success of themselves. They spend all their time utitlising their poverty-success resource as  having no money is exactly the impetus that they need to maximise their abilities.

Sadly the more successful your parents are, the more lazy you will be (generally).  It’s as if my generation chose a (sky-lit) roof over their heads/ (gourmet) food in their bellies and (designer) clothes on their backs over the will/ drive/ tenacity to be successful. Nowadays no one applies themselves fully to anything that they do, there are no more passionate geniuses.   

Rather, we walk around with an attitude that we are owed something and that’s something our 

parents never grew up with.

So take money out of the equation and think about what lengths you would go to get it back or to keep your head above water. Human beings are embedded with abilities but most don’t reach their full potential in their lifetimes. 

It’s nice to know that now and then, when I have no money to buy someone else’s ideas, I can come up with my own.

LESSON # 3
when there is no money, keep the eye contact (it’s free)
This is not a pie-in-the-sky philosophy.
this is based on true life and true love.
When you love someone it is not about how much money they have, it’s about what kind of person they become when they don’t have money.  
Being with someone in a meaningful and lasting way means preparing yourself for days when he will have and you won’t; when you will have and he won’t and then for those great days when you both have and those awful situations when you both don’t.  Contrary to popular gossip, none of these are automatic recipes for disaster.
WHEN MEN ARE STRUGGLING THEY MAY ASK
Q: What kind of man will I be if I take money from you?
Your Reply-
Q: What kind of woman would I be if I went out and bought meaningless things with my money while you struggled for us both?
Men need to understand that they are not lesser men for not having money, but for not showing their resilience in the face of financial strain. To a woman, a hero happens to be a man who runs around all day trying to provide for her but who puts on a mask that makes her feel secure at night.
The key is to be happy or content with where life places you at any given time.  So when it happens to be at the bottom of the financial hill, don’t let it bring out a monster in you. Trust in God, show support, laugh everything off and have an open mind. Always create an environment of safety for one another. 

Lock eyes when the going is good, and lock eyes even more when things get bad.

 
LESSON # 4
give a lot
This is an unfailing philosophy taught by most faiths.
It requires a degree of spirituality to be applied though. If you have faith in a higher power then you usually understand the responsibility to do good unto others.
Parting with your money freely is one such good. The Prophet Muhammad (Peace be Upon Him) would give his possessions to the poor everyday living off the principal that:
"If you trust in God as it ought to be, He will provide sustenance for you as He provides sustenance for the bird which goes forth early in the morning with hunger in its belly but returns in the evening with its stomach full."
From this we learn that when we throw good into the wheel of life, that we will have that good returned (most likely at a time when we need it most).
Give freely and give to free yourself- if it doesn’t come naturally, do it anyway.
This is a motto I live by and will hopefully die by.

In conclusion, I want to validate the above thoughts. I know my darkest financial days are not behind me and that people will use this to call me naïve. But to them I say that money is only worth as much as what and who you choose to use it on and share it with. Liberate yourself from the stereotypes that attribute all the power to money.

Eat.Pray.Love.Don't Travel

(This is, sadly, not a) TRAVEL BLOG

Last Friday I went to see Eat.Pray.Love with my besties and fiance. { I am not a fan of romcoms, they stopped appealing to me in my adult life. But this one had Julia Roberts in the lead role and she will never stop appealing to me}.

The movie failed to come together well (for me). But the one thing I could relate to is the main character's feeling of being stifled and then regarding travel as the answer to all life's questions.The most poignant line in the movie is when she says "I need to marvel at something". That's really how I feel. I'm not being ungrateful about the wonderful  and MARVELous life I have here.  I just acknowledge that to understand myself  in relation to creation and to all living things, I need to have my horizons widened. I need material that will abate my writer's block, give me a new appreciation for the things I have and inspire a rebirth of my spirituality.

I see travel as the route to closeness to God. I want to push my toes in the sand of a foreign shore and contemplate the levels of His greatness. How He created this beach and all beaches, this person and all people. My  mind has not been able to properly comprehend existence. All I know is here, Cape Town. I want to offer my experiences to the rest of the world and receive the same gift in return. There are nooks of the earth that are calling for me by name.

I don't need to run away from anything (anymore). My need to travel has been modified over time. It may have started in adolescence when nothing I said made sense- but I've brought it with me into my late (yuck) twenties where its form has more maturity and clarity every day. 

I want to travel in the name of adventure. In Cape Town, in my culture, people tend to get  married, struggle in a job that pays too little then panic as soon as they have children.

Am I wrong to want more?

Why should I ignore the voice that says 'travel' when most  people don't even have these all-important soliloquies (#happytobecrazy) . People look at the idea of temporary  immigration as  something  that is so impossible to do.
But I need to go, even if it means failing and missing home too much and going around in a circle just to prove that temporary immigration is impossible.

When you know where your home is you should be able to move away from it freely.

 


People who haven't experienced other cultures or countries are different to those who have. I don't want to be a  visitor to a country, I want to be a  citizen for as long as I'm there. I want to learn a new language, cook with their foods, live by their traditions and their rules. I want to know the country's  favourite  landmarks (not the ones in books or on the Travel channel- but the ones the locals pick). I want to eat at the best indigenous restaurants and be in awe of the things that are so different to what I know. I want to stay long enough to tap into a culture's secrets and be a part of the way they do things in their part of the world.

however....

My need to travel comes second to my need to be a wife. In 4 months time I will take on a responsibility that will hopefully change me for the better.

I have been told I will need to make compromise the mantra for that chapter of my life.

On Friday my fiance was interviewed for a Cape Town-based job that he feels could be the answer to all his life's questions. Heavy. We got into a heated debate about these two conflicting life paths. Adventure vs. Security; Not knowing vs. Knowing; Possibility of no money for a while vs. Money; Change of scenery vs. Cape Town. At the height of the debate I fell quiet. He carried on speaking about all things logical, sensible, correct and safe but I began to exit the moment...

It became apparent to me that a big test would be on our hands were he to get this job. And before he even had to ask me to stay in Cape Town, I was trying to make myself okay with it. Soon it would be my duty to support him, soon I would have to start behaving like a woman who was answerable to someone else. 

It hurt very much the same way that a broken heart does. Because it has the same ingredient.  

The conspicuous truth that kills a concept you once believed in.

Traveling in the way that I would like to do it would have to be put up on the shelf next to skydiving, shaving my head and having coffee with John Mayer. I'm not resigning from my dreams. I'm accepting that my fiance makes more sense and I'm prematurely accepting the role of the trophy wife over the role of the jet-setting ethnographer. 

Back Blogging

So much has happened, will you forgive me for being such a poor blogger! I am still without my laptop - so I can't do my famous Carrie from Sex and the City impersonation at night :(

I managed to post something a few minutes ago, which I must clarify was actually from last Tuesday.

I'm going to attempt to write about the most recent events because they are the most fresh. For all the other post I'm going to have to slot the information in under the various headings- #ihatebacklogs

Sunday- This is what I woke up to

My cousin is house-sitting for someone with 2 very cute dogs and a dying cat. The house owner has been pretty much relaxed about my cousin having special friends over so me and my besties were in luck. We got to stay in a beautifully-furnished bungalow that overlooks Clifton 4th beach. Property in Cape Town does not get more prime.

When we woke up on Sunday we had just missed the sunrise (by 7 hours). But I'm sure it was pretty much as majestic as the sunset without the bathers.

So I took my champion's breakfast- Ensure and a banana- on the terrace and had a chat with one of my besties about what it would be like to live like this everyday. With the beach at your feet and the mountain at your head you would truly have the very best of Cape Town all the time.

I kitted up and in less than 10 mins I was on the field- Helenic the Greek Club in Bay Road. In full view of the Cape Town stadium- awesome.

Our first game was easy, against Brett Evans' girls called Ajax (just for the tourney). I was worried about coming up against his wife who has scored a hat trick in last week's league game. I always see her at cycling events so I know she's fit. But the game was in the bag once the first 3 goals were scored by our powerful striker. Not even my own-goal (#epicfail) affected the victory- in a more serious game/with a tighter scoreline, I would have been given sad silent looks. Lucky me I got to be laughed at for the rest of the day instead.

During the second game I got badly injured. I took an elbow to my front tooth. Now I entered into the world of womens soccer 3 years ago with just one reservation- possible injuries to the mouth. 

It's taken me most of my life to come to terms with my teeth. 

I had a huge gap, 

then braces, 

wore a retainer for 3 years (while I slept) 

and the minute I stopped wearing it the gap returned. 

Normal. 

*Now, at age 26, with Madonna's reinvention still fresh in everyone's mind I actually love my teeth. In the same way I love my other once-hated body parts. Madonna showed everyone that the gap can be beautiful if you couple it with other great qualities (like sick dance moves and a smoking-flexible-killer body). On my way to Madge's fabulous body, I'll believe that the beat goes on and that anyone can reinvent their looks, and breathe life into unconventional physical features.

 

Back to the blood bath that my tournament turned into- I was sent off the field and immediately I could feel that something was wrong. Once I had rinsed some of the blood- which was coming from my split lip- I could see the extent of the damage. My precious and central right front tooth had been hit back. Surprisingly there was no looseness just a feeling of anger building inside my chest. For a second I wished I could go back in time and smash in that little blonde bitch striker. All she did was haggle in my area of defense clearly annoyed that I was marking her. When it all got to much for her she thought she'd destroy my tooth and my dream of having a beautiful collection of wedding pictures. All I kept saying was "I'm so livid, it's my wedding in four months". 

I called up an old friend who is now a dentist and she offered to meet me at the dental practice in Wynberg. Just as I was about to leave the field with one of my besties, my fiance arrived and I felt myself caving in. You know that one person who is privy to the weakest version of you? Well, the minute my bestie was out of earshot and eye-line I burst into tears. I cried from the Hellenic Club to Maynard Mall. All the while the fiance comforted me, with an ice pack (he carries one around with him wherever he goes :) and sensible words about how the dentist would fix everything up. 

I cry because he let's me 

and before the first tear drops he has already made himself into a wellness centre offering medical advice and counselling. *Events where he has been the hero: 

• completely closed his car door onto my right thumb: he was there with ice and bandages. 
• got headered by a guy during soccer: he met me at the hospital with ice

• nearly fell to my death on Lion's Head: he was there with ice water and an improvised bandage made of a soccer sock
• (Please note that ice is a crucial element to first aid)

If you ever danced with death, he would be the kind of fiance you would want to own. His hands are made of magic and he always seems to know exactly what to say to calm your nerves and stop your pain. It helps that he has a medical background because he knows when something is badly broken under your skin or when you could be concussed. But at the end of the day it's so much more than that. It's the fact that when I get hurt he wants to be first on the scene and he wants to be the one who fixes me. 

Maybe I became more accident-prone when I met him :) 

Klop en Gebak Chocolate Cake Recipe

I'm home recovering from an epic weekend. Sadly I will have to return to work tomorrow if I want to convince my parents that I am well enough to play in our first soccer match of the new season.  



I have the definitive urge to bake again- could be my ego hungry for the praise from last weeks success. 

I haven't decided whether to make biscuits or chocolate cake. Decisions. I will post some pictures once I'm done :)

Klop en Gebak

Ingredients

2 cups castor sugar

4 eggs

1 cup fish oil

1 teaspoon vanilla essence

4 teaspoons baking powder

2 cups cake flour -  For Chocolate cake remove 3Table spoons of flour replace with 3 table spoons of Cocoa.

1 and ¼  cups milk

Method

Mix above ingredients in the order that it is listed using a big spoon and adding the ingredients as you go along. Pour into either a round baking dish or a square dish. Bake at 180 Degrees at preheated oven for 20-30 minutes.

Topping:

(I don't do the jam thing. In fact I bake my cake in a round tin with a hole in it (I think it's called a doughnut).)
Spread cake with apricot jam

Mix together icing  and coconut (dry) and sprinkle on cake

Topping for choc cake

1 can of nestle cream (a half of the big one or one small one)

1 slab of Cadbury chocolate

Method

Melt chocolate in microwave. Add cream and mix. Wait until cake cools down, top with a layer of jam then top with chocolate mixture.
(I melt the chocolate in a glass dish over a pot of boiling water.)