Another birthday

In a few minutes we are expecting my family to descend on our house to celebrate K's 21st birthday.  This will be the second round of Happy Birthday singing - her friends came to a Hobbit themed party last weekend, and that was blustery fun.  I want to celebrate this marvellous human as much as possible - birthday or no birthday.  She makes the world a better place with her laughter, kindness and sense of propriety.

The hordes don't know it yet, but we have put together a slide show of photographs of special moments in K's life, and a fun quiz if anyone wants to join in.  We have a lot of photos, and sifting through the thousands this past week has been both a pleasure and a jolt for me. So many memories come up, and I felt both incredibly fortunate to have so many wonderful times in my heart, head and photo albums, and also more than a little sad.  Photos of people who can't share our celebrations with us any more, and the passing of time in what seems just a heartbeat, have made me tear up on more than one preview of the slideshow.

But I -we- are capable of holding two seemingly opposite emotions together at the same time.  The happiness makes the sadness bearable, and the sadness makes the happiness meaningful.

We tried the quiz out on her friends last week, and it was interesting to watch people's reactions.  Everyone organised themselves into groups and we gave each group a thick crayon and a clipboard of paper.  The quiet ones took notes while the videos were playing - what colour jersey K was wearing in the snow, who sang the backing track, what K wrote on the chimney with the power-hose while cleaning.  Others doodled, some producing quaint crayony pictures, others sat quite still and absorbed the information in picture form.  And it occurred to me that we all take in things in different ways, and there is no right way to learn or have fun.  They all seemed to enjoy the challenge - hence the repeat this afternoon with a different group.  I wonder how The Family will deal with it.

I like throwing an unexpected challenge out to people, as long as nobody takes it too seriously.  Challenges push our boundaries just a little and give us a taste of how doing things differently might increase our appetite for change.  And change we must, because being static is both impossible and unhealthy.  There are lots of changes happening here as K becomes more and more independent, and I adapt to adult children.  

It has been quite a year of celebrations so far, what with Andrew's 60th and K's 21st.  The rest of the year might seem a bit dull, unless we decide to fill it with new adventures and celebrations.

In the meantime we have cake to eat.  Happy birthday K.  I love you.

21 Years ago....

Sun and Ski

26 January:

Andrew is packing to go on his much anticipated Austrian ski holiday with his brothers.  We leave for the airport in two hours, and he is a bit more flappy than he usually is.  This trip is a celebration of Life as he hits 60. The brothers haven't had a joint adventure for too many years. (One lives in Canada, the other in the UK).   Underpants - tick.  Jeans - tick.  Long sleeved shirts - tick.  But when it came to socks there was an odd assortment of forlorn mismatched singles skulking at the back of the cupboard.  He found enough comfy matching pairs, and decided to part with some that had not yet morphed into hangers, and probably never will.  Almost there.  Ski pants and jacket - tick.  Book to read....   And he is ready!

Andrew on the move...

We celebrated his birthday yesterday.  It started with a leisurely breakfast in Kalk Bay (highly recommend the food at Chardonnay Deli), followed by a dip in the ocean.  It is pure bliss for me to float in sea salt with my ears under the water, bobbing to the gentle current.  It feels like being in Creation, with all external distractions floating away.  

Actually, I am hoping to make this  the Year of Distractions.  I fancy dipping my toes in new adventures, even if I discard them promptly or "fail" miserably.  So what.  I have made a start by signing up for an online course. K and I are sneaking off for a Daughter/ Mother weekend while Andrew is away.  I have started a new glass panel for nowhere in particular.   So the January distractions are doing well.  Who knows, by the end of the year, I may even have a cookie jar full of creative ideas and a house full of odd looking glass panels.

 

31 January:

Even my distractions get distractions it seems. Andrew is having a wonderful trip by the sounds of things - I am sure he will share his adventures with you when he gets back.  He sends daily maps of his ski runs, and of  people sunbathing in the snow.  I am hoping the brothers are having a good time of re-connection. 

 I have been enjoying having the extra space to uncap my eccentricness and lying low for a bit.  January is done and dusted. 2024 is well under way.  I hope it has started well for you.

 

29 January

25 January

 

 

A Soulful Llama

 

How many elephants can fit on a Vespa? 

 

Eleven.  And 1 tortoise, 1 bear and  1 wide eyed llama. It took us quite a while to achieve this, and a lot of cable ties.  We also stuffed some arty goodies into the back box, and were satisfied that we were ready for our first Toy Run.  The Toy Run is a spectacular event held late November or early December every year.  If you live near one of the routes, you would have heard about it.  The revving is festively loud.  Andrew and I joined the parade of thousands of bikes, all adorned with toys for needy children, and set off through the Cape Town streets.  Traffic cops waved us through busy intersections and cleared lanes for us, smiling and waving and giving us the thumbs up. (Finally - I see the attraction of being part of the blue light brigade.  Motorists were equally cheerful to wave us through, unlike our political counterparts who usually avail themselves of that service.) It was an excellent start to the festive season.

The group of riders was as diverse as the bikes.  The magnificent Harley Davidsons led the procession and the rest of us followed.  Not too many Vespas took part, and scooters were definitely in the minority.

 We didn't stay long at Killarney - just time enough to soak up the atmosphere and hand over the toys. There was a band playing and inbetween songs the continuity announcer thanked us for being part of the Moral Underground.  I like that phrase.

To be honest, when I started writing this blog, it was a bit doomsday -y.  I was /am struggling to see the bright patches in between the increased darkness of load shedding.  It is not so much the lack of electricity - we can, and have, learnt how to live working around that - it is more the darkness that load shedding represents.  The corruption.  The lost opportunities for this country to thrive. A lack of hope in the future.  It is easy to get bogged down in that train of thought, because the world is cruel, violent, intolerant place at war at the moment. I thought that people are doing such a bad job, that maybe letting AI have a go is not such a bad idea after all.  

So I asked Chat GBT to write a blog for me addressing South Africans about load shedding. This is what it came up with:

Dear resilient South Africans,

In the face of challenges, remember that the spirit of unity and strength runs deep within your nation. Each trial you encounter is an opportunity for growth and solidarity. Your history is a testament to the power of resilience, and your ability to overcome adversity is boundless.

Embrace the diversity that makes South Africa unique, for it is a source of strength and richness that can lead to a brighter future. In the tapestry of your nation, every thread contributes to the strength of the whole.

As you navigate the present, hold onto the belief that tomorrow holds promise and potential. The challenges of today are the building blocks of a better tomorrow. Trust in the power of collective effort and individual perseverance.

In the words of Nelson Mandela, "It always seems impossible until it's done." Your journey may be tough, but your ability to overcome is tougher. Remember that hope is not just a fleeting emotion; it is a force that propels you forward, even in the face of uncertainty.

Stay connected, support one another, and foster a community that uplifts every member. Your shared strength is a beacon that lights the path to progress.

Believe in the resilience of your nation, for within every challenge lies an opportunity for greatness. The sun rises on South Africa, and with it comes a new day filled with possibilities.

Keep the flame of hope burning bright.

With unwavering solidarity, [Your Name]

 

Not bad really.  As far as rhetoric goes.

But Chat GBT lacks authenticity and, more importantly, Soul.  (So I wouldn't be surprised to hear our politicians sprouting this speech some day soon.) Having Soul makes us part of the moral underground.  The goodwill of ordinary people ripples into communities and forms the bedrock of kindness and stability that holds society during turbulent times.  

A few stuffed toys will not solve the world's problems.  But I am hoping that, sometime in the future, someone will remember being given a wide eyed llama, a bear, a pink elephant or a tortoise, and know that it comes with my hope for  their happiness.

 

 

 

 

Quite!

 A few weeks ago Andrew and I celebrated a wedding anniversary.  (Our own, actually - but we will be very happy to celebrate yours too if you send us the details...) This year the celebrations were wild - a storm hit Cape Town, and rain lashed the mountainside at our getaway.  So we chose the most obvious form of  adult indoor entertainment - we played Scrabble. As usual we were pretty evenly matched until that annoying stage when the board is full and all the high scoring letters have finally been pulled from the bag. (Are they weighted slightly more heavily, so that they sink to the bottom of the bag and are pulled out last, do you think?).  To get rid of the "Q" I offered the word "QUIT", and I was happy enough with the score.  But  Husband decided to add an "E", and write another word, turning my quit into QUITE, scoring himself very many points, and a frosty smile from me. 

This last week Andrew suggested I bring the Scrabble board with me during visiting hour. He has been in hospital fighting a nasty leg infection.  The antibiotics prescribed at A&E and the GP weren't working, so he was admitted to be dripped and prodded and xrayed and checked.  It has been quite an ordeal.  Andrew does not take illness lying down, except when he is forced to.  Now he has no choice, as that leg needs to be elevated, and he needs to rest.  

I found it quite scary.  There is nothing quite like a hospital ward to help one face the fact that everyone is mortal. It is something that is obvious and everyone knows in the back of their thoughts.  But hospitals smell different.  There is uncertainty  in the air, and the acknowledgement that everything  can change from solid to fragile very quickly.  Andrew was in the same ward that my Dad died in a few months ago, and that probably added to my feeling of fragility.  But the care and service was good, (according to Andrew), with the exception of the food.  Nothing new there!  In fact if you start to like the hospital food, it might be time to gather the family.

I reckoned that the Scrabble board wouldn't fit on the bed table so I didn't take it when I went to visit.  Besides Andrew was in a 4 bed ward, and I didn't think it was a suitable game for a public space.  He would have to make do with my scintillating conversations and the books I brought him.  It had absolutely nothing to do with my bruising loss last game.  

Andrew is back home now, and recovering nicely.  We discussed the need for him to possibly give himself a break from the continuous busyness that is his norm.   We'll see - old habits are hard to break.

This is the view from the hospital parking area.  It struck me as quite beautiful as I sat there one day - the mountain, the greenery, even the traffic - a mixture of the unmovable, the seasons and the flow of life.  We are so fortunate with the standard of (private) healthcare in South Africa, and in the beauty of the environment.  If we look carefully, and give it some thought, it doesn't take much to move from a desolate feeling to one of understanding and agreement - changing quit into quite.

That's something we can all celebrate.  And Craig -  you were absolutely right in predicting this blog.😄

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