Mwahahahaha

I only got the iPhone because the border collie insisted it was a game-changer. She didn't warn me about the side-effects

It's awesome.

You want a WHAT?

I have a theory about THAT episode of Grey's anatomy. 5 minutes in and we find out she's expecting? I told Scientist no 1 exactly what was going to happen.

They've asked for a raise, they're all going to die.

At least Horatio Cane is back

Kitty update

I came home early yesterday to check on the cats. Ming-Li had wedged herself under the bed and wouldn't come out, which is fairly typical of her attitude

Meeslet, on the other hand, still looked glassy-eyed and staggered around the study when I put her on the floor.
I called the vet to say I was on my way, grabbed my bag, stuffed her into the cat carrier cage (single cat size), and sped off. She yelled at me he whole way. (Next time you see people driving and apparently talking to themselves remember there could be a cat in the car)
Fortunately there were 2 vets waiting at the door for me (well, it might have been closing time) Vet no 1 rolled his eyes at the Hot Vet who scooped up the cage and bustled us into an examination room. Since he hadn't had the benefit of the 5.30am call I brought him up to speed, using all the medical terminology I could recall from Grey's Anatomy (more on THAT episode later) House and ER.
He sumarily dismissed brain tumour, malaria, appendicitis, meningitis and tuberculosis (my preliminary diagnoses) as well as a number of rare genetic disorders.
As the coup de grace I produced the offensive de-worming tablets and said "then it's my fault, I overdosed her on these.
He paused, sighed, and asked me if we'd been poisoning ants or cockroaches. Instant panic. "Her symptoms are neurological, what you're seeing here is what you'd look like if you smoked 2 packs of 30 cigarettes in 10 minutes" I assured him she doesn't smoke and that we haven't been poisoning anything (Scientist no 1 would immediately feed it to us given her environmental focus) He produced a syringe, gave her an injection in the neck skin (she clawed his arms and face in response) and wrestled her back into the cage.
"That should help" he said, taping his skin back together again  "If she gets worse or vomits bring her back tomorrow morning"
I took her home and tenderly set up a bed next to the heater. She glared at me, washed her paws and settled down.

At which point Scientist no 1 arrived, hobbling, and in need of maternal attention. She'd been at the doctor having glass removed from her foot, a process that involved local anaesthesia, scalpels and adrenaline apparently.

"Bring me a glass of wine" I said, "I'm shattered"

What to panic about next?

Since we are temporarily unenkiddled, what with Scientist no 1 housesitting for Fearless Leader (7pm phonecall: Mom! there's a HUGE rainspider" Me: "Don't kill it, it may be a pet" Scientist no 1: "It's threatening the cat" Me: Is there a gun anywhere? Kill it") and Scientist no 2 having safely made his way to the Kruger Park (with the aid of at least 20 phone calls from each of us), I am in need of something else to panic about.

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Notice how I'm clutching both children very tightly in case they wander off and get hurt.
 
Which is why, this morning, at 5.30am, I made Walter phone the vet on the emergency number. Ming-Li and Meeslet had clearly been poisoned. In my opinion they were going into kidney failure. No I am not a qualified vet, I don't even have a week of training. Worse, I was the one who had poisoned them. They had their de-worming medication last night and either the medication was from China or I had overdosed them. They were both staggering around as if they'd found Scientist No 2's secret stash of Vodka.

 Ming-Li at the back, Meeslet in the middle and Storm in the front. Prime real estate.

Fortunately the vet told us it's a common side-effect and they won't be needing kidney transplants. The neighbour's cat is safe for now.
Oh and Scientist no 1 called to say she'd confined the rain spider to a cake box. Best I warn Fearless Leader so that she's not surprised when she opens it.

In which Scientist no 2 arrives safely

Touched by everyone's concern yesterday. By everyone I mean some of the Twitter people who follow me, I had requests for updates on Scientist no 2's progress throughout the day.

There were 2 false starts; firstly I tried explaining to him that you have to get onto the N14 to stay on the N1. I know this makes no sense whatsoever, but it's the way our highways were planned. This is, after all, the fabled Great North Road that Cecil John Rhodes envirsioned, plus it's Africa, why make it easy?

Of course he thought I'd gone mad so he ignored me, stayed on the N1 and ended up on the N14. So he had to turn around, take the Pietersburg offramp (even though it's now called Polokwane - again, who am I to argue with this approach?) and then the N4.
He turned west onto the N4 (OK, he hasn't done navigation, so he had a 50% chance of getting it right) then take the first offramp to go back so that he was heading east. Fortunately it went smoothly after that.

I understand that his friends have already finished the R1,500-worth of alcohol they took with them, he's not impressed.

When in doubt, panic

There are a few things I inherited from my mother. Flying with her around Lusaka gave me my love of flying and the knowledge that I could do it. As the 4th child I inherited her red hair. I also have her height and before the surgery I had her shocking eyesight.  I can live with all of those, but I also inherited her tendency to assume the worst. I am a panicker of note when it comes to my children.

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Me, brother no 1 and my sister

Brother no 2 who lives in Cambodia, with his gorgeous wife

When my sister was a tiny baby she had febrile convulsions. My mother, who was all of 19, locked herself in the linen cupboard, leaving her mother-in-law to cope. This strikes me as a completely natural response; the mother-in-law clearly had more experience so she removed herself from the situation. She also had a tendency to faint when things had gone horribly wrong (like when I was lost on Lake Tanganyika for 9 hours in a storm) which I haven't inherited, thankfully.

Today's worst-case-scenario has been brought about by the fact that Scientist no 2 is driving himself to Kruger Park. This is a rich source of panic material for any doomsday follower, made worse by:

1. He has only had a licence for around 9 months
2. We have drivers with no regard for the rules of the road here

compounded by:

1. He may get lost
2. The car could break down (or worse, much worse)

and... as someone who grew up with wildlife, I am all too aware of the dangers that a city boy won't be aware of like:

1. What if he goes into the park and is charged/trampled by a raging elephant in musth (do I have enough time to tell him what to look out for before he leaves?)
2. He could be attacked by a hippo, they are faster than rhinos and kill lots of people every year
3. What is the risk of malaria at this time of year
4. Will he have enough warm clothes

And so on.

 Scientist no 2 when he was 12 and I knew exactly where he was all the time

Scientist no 2 with Walter, pretending to be gangstas.

Of course it's not the first time he's been away in charge of a car. He went on matric vac to the south coast when he'd had his licence for around 6 weeks, one of 2 licensed drivers (the others had learner licences). They drove from the south coast to Plettenberg Bay for heaven's sake through the Transkei of all places.


My coping skills are going to be sorely tested today, I hope my liver is up to the challenge.

Of haircuts and girly girl things

My friends and family will tell you I'm NOT a girly-girl. I have zero tolerance for all things fashion and I don't spend hours on my "look". I also have a tendency to pass value judgements on people who do, but I'm doing my best to work on that.

From time to time, however, I will make an effort to spruce up a bit since I don't want to frighten small children any more than is absolutely necessary.

So I went to the hairdresser yesterday for highlights and a trim. My colleague the border collie pointed me in the right direction - she has good hair so is obviously well-versed in the matter of hairdressers.

Quite apart from the cost of the exercise (I swear you can get an hour's flying lesson for the price)  there's the time investment and the hideous basin-torture to consider.

Look at this carefully. Now compare it to this:

Remind you of anything?

I think the problem is my height - I'm too tall for the chair so I have to squish my spine down to fit into the contraption, then drop my head backwards while someone fiddles with hot and cold settings before taking their claws to my scalp. They do this s-l-o-w-l-y while the basin bites you in the neck

Then there's the "massage". Lots of masochists pay extra for this - I always tell them to make the washing bit as quick as possible, no nerve-pinching, no hands under clothes thank you very much. All this while you try and clutch onto the hand towel around your shoulders to stop your clothes getting drenched.

I had highlights. This involves the application of tin foil to your head so that you look as if you're trying to communicate with aliens.

Not to mention foul-smelling dye cream applied one strand at a time.

Then there's the angst of how much to leave as a tip for the basin torturer. Too much and she'll think you're one of those masochists and do more next time; too little and you'll pay for it in pain next time.

The cutting part doesn't stress me too much, as long as they don't do it one hair at a time, it's hair for heaven's sake, it will grow again. What's the worst that can happen?

Cool highlights dude.

I call my new hairstyle the pineapple-anime look.

You get the picture.

Happy father's day Walter

 The joy of having adult kids - they can take care of father's day.

Scientist no 1 (on the right, obviously) and Scientist no 2 at Monte Casino fanpark for opening match

I am making lamb curry for a late lunch, Scientist no 2 has a part-time job and Scientist no 1 is house sitting for Number one boss (aka Fearless Leader) so presents later then.

It is here. I was there

I have the most incredible luck sometimes. The last soccer match I watched live was when Bafana Bafana won the African Cup of Nations in 1996 when we beat Tunisia 2-0. I saw Zambia beat Ghana that day too. Both my teams won, 80,000 fans packed Soccer City and by the time we left I had lost my voice. That was a powerful thing to experience, I remember it well.

Yesterday I was once again reminded of this luck - I went to the opening match of the World Cup at the new Soccer City stadium with colleagues, and today I am almost voiceless from roaring along with 85,000 other people who shared this incredible experience.

My category 1 ticket. Thanks boss. I clutched this tightly all the way from the park and ride at Wits, terrified of losing it somewhere along the way.

All along the route we were greeted by people hooting, waving flags, blowing their vuvuzelas, climbing up robots cheering us on. We almost felt as if we were the team heading off to play in the opening match.

The calabash stadium, Soccer City
 
For anyone heading there for the final - take a train from Park station or the Rea Vaya bus service. The park and ride buses drop you off in a dry patch of veld miles away so there's a considerable walk to the stadium. Our bus driver was so excited she did donuts around the veld before letting us out, so we emerged a little dusty but very hyped for the match.
Getting in was a breeze; check ticket, search bag, go through metal detector, follow the crowd to the turnstiles, check ticket is genuine and voila! You're in.

No long waits anywhere. This in itself was an eye-opener for me, so it can be done. And there are enough ladies toilets. I cannot over-emphasise this, not once did I queue for a loo! 

 The stadium inside, excited people arriving

All around us were people with painted faces, flags, vuvuzelas, jackets (it was cold) and signs

Multi-lingual signs

The opening ceremony got underway - a riot of noise and colour and suddenly 3 jets screamed over the stadium. The aerial display! The praise singer! (I'm not sure the foreign visitors got that, but all the South Africans roared) Big screens linked to praise singers standing on the other stadia roofs jumping and chanting. We jumped and chanted too!

The symbolism of the click song "Igqira lendlela nguqo ngqothwane" (the dung beetle is the doctor of the road)

Dung beetle picture from Idahostatesman.com

And the national anthems...
 

When we belted out every word. God bless Africa, Nkosi sikel'iAfrika

And when they ended....a wall of noise - cheering, vuvuzela-blowing, those football rattle-things going; awesome. 
How good to feel proud to be a South African again. How incredibly proud we are of this. And when the team was showing nerves at the beginning we stood as one and sang "Shosholoza!" and they drew themselves up and played. They heard us, they responded. 
Itumeleng Khune was our hero, saving all that came his way. And that goal! Laduuuuuma! The roar, the physical force of the sound, the fact that we scored first!
To draw against Mexico? Mexico is ranked 17th, South Africa 83rd. Well done boys, you did us proud. 
We headed back to our bit of veld to catch our bus, happy believers. The stadium glowed pink with pride,  beautiful against the night sky.

Hambani kahle. Sala kahle.


I am a lucky person indeed.

The Ninja

I suddenly realised that I hadn't explained the Ninja at all.
Scientist #2 started university this year leading to a whole new transport problem. I find that if you try hard enough you can always find a child to blame, it's quite handy at times but more of that later...
The problem with universities is that they don't
a) have lift clubs (what's up with that?)
b) have a bus service if you live in the northern suburbs
I tried asking the Gautrain if they wouldn't mind building a line from our suburb to the university please, but they were entirely uninterested in my problems.

The Gautrain

So plan A was for Scientist#2 to use Granny's car, a 1976 Mercedes Benz 230 Automatic. Literally had one driver and we knew the history. Miss Daisy (the car) was not impressed about being driven by a teenager and sulked quite a few times, breaking down in inconvenient places and requiring the purchase of one small Arab emirate a week to keep the tank full.
Walter tried to persuade me to buy another Renault, but 3 French cars in the driveway and the associated maintenance costs is really quite enough for me.
Now I should explain that I've had nearly a quarter of a century being "mom's taxi" and even convicted murderers don't generally have to do that much time, so I did what any sensible mid-life crisis sufferer would do and went the "time for a new car for me" route. Not just any old car either, had to be 2 doors.
So Scientist #2 got the Modus (he's christened her Maggie) and I got the Ninja. Perfect solution - a 2-door 4x4.

 The Ninja in its natural habitat, cleverly disguised.

Of course none of the French cars speak Japanese (sacre bleu!), so there is some jostling for top dog position as far as available parking goes.

Walter is also worried that I may make a run for it and tells me he's fitted it with a tracker that alerts him if I get as far as the border.