Thursday, August 12, 2010

The first rule of fat club...

So my grandmother has lost a whole lot of weight by going to the local Weight Watchers club and following all the rules quite religiously.
I was so impressed that I said I'd go with her. It was either a fit of madness or an alcoholic haze, and there was definitely delicious food present at the time. Either way, I'm carrying a few more kilos than is absolutely necessary to get through winter, especially since we don't live in a country that has no sun in winter.
She sent me directions by sms, ending off  "sms me if you get bewildered" - cheeky old bat.

Within 5 minutes she'd introduced me to everyone there (all women, one man snuck in late, weighed in, and scuttled out before anyone could talk to him) and we'd organised a pink drinks night for next week (half price cocktails before 6pm)
It's strictly research, you understand, we will selflessly evaluate the points of all cocktails so that bars can add that information on the menu - because we're thoughtful that way.

Monday, August 9, 2010

When life hands you lemons...

It's been a tough week. What with the car accident, the family down with bronchitis and the fraud.
Yesterday morning Walter logged onto the bank account to see if he'd been paid some money he's owed only to discover a significant sum missing from the account. The statement shows ATM cash withdrawals overseas.
Given that I'm generally an optimist (cue: Always look on the bright side of life) I made a list of the "it could have been worse" things

1. The accident could have caused injury or worse.
2. The other driver might not have been insured.
3. The bronchitis would be very bad without antibiotics
4. We may have been away for the weekend and not noticed the withdrawals until all the money was gone

I was also incredibly touched by the messages of support throughout the week from my Twitter friends, most of whom I've never met "in real life"
So I took myself and Scientist No 1 (coughing and spluttering, bronchitis and whiplash) off to the nursery, bought some plants and planted up a hanging basket that's been lying around empty for some time. We hung it up at the kitchen door so that we see it every day
It will look better once the pelargoniums sprawl over the sides

And while I was burying some rotten tomatoes that we hadn't got to eating I saw the lemon tree, bursting with lemons.

So it's margharitas all around then. Screw you life.

Friday, August 6, 2010

More car drama....

While I was giving my professional diagnosis to the GP on Wednesday the receptionist interrupted us to tell me that Scientist No 1 had been in an accident but was fine.I immediately whipped out my phone and called her. She had tried Walter (who was in the bath, so not answering) and me (my phone was on silent in my bag) and finally called the rooms.She was remarkably calm, telling me in answer to my questions:
1. No, I'm not hurt
2. No, nobody else is hurt
3. A van made a u-turn in front of me
4. I think the chassi's bent
5. No thanks, dad is on his way
I thought I did well not to hyperventilate (although if you must the doctor's rooms is undoubtedly the place to do it)
Poor little French car. Zut alors!
Being as precise as she is she even managed to get witness statements.
Walter rushed there and shouted at the other driver then felt sorry for him (well, he's a shrink, so he would) I decided I shouldn't go since I would have slapped the other driver silly for nearly damaging a child of mine.

Later on I told my grandmother what had happened, we sighed together and got on with our day.
That evening, as I was driving home, my grandmother called:
Me: Hello
Grandmother: I believe you crashed your car this morning
Me: No, that was scientist no 1
Grandmother: Who is this?
Me: Karen
Grandmother: Why do you have her phone?
Me: (Looking at my phone) I don't, you called me on mine

Grandmother: Silence
Sigh. This aging thing is a bitch.

Thursday, August 5, 2010

It wasn't a heart attack after all

Walter was away for 2 nights last week doing a "workshop" in the Drakensberg. On the first night, loving the idea of only sharing the bed with the 3 cats, I dreamt I was being stabbed in the chest. I woke up, looked around, realised I wasn't and immediately self-diagnosed a heart attack.
After a while of lying there waiting for the harps, angels and bright light, I realised it was on the right side, so probably wasn't a heart attack, and quickly ran through re-runs of Greys Anatomy and House in my head.
Right - so possibly a pulmonary embolsim, pericarditis, pneumonia, TB or a deep vein thrombosis from the overseas trip then.
After a few more nights of this I realised that it was only at night and finally took myself off to the doctor yesterday for some qualified advice (after my grandmother breezily told me it was acid reflux, gave me a tablet and told me to call her in the morning)
The good diagnostician GP listened to my tale of woe, my own carefully considered diagnosis, took my blood pressure (perfect), listened to heart and lungs and announced my grandmother was right.
The drugs I've been taking for sinus have a nasty stomach irritation side effect. Should clear up when the course is finished. He gave me more of the drugs my grandmother had dished out (don't tell her she's right) and sent me on my way.
So. No need to update my will just yet then.

Wednesday, August 4, 2010

How hard can it be?

We aren't really car people. I've had scientist no 2 (a boy) call me (a girl) to ask where the battery is in Maggie the Modus, for example.
Tyre pressure is one of those things I try not to think about too much. When I bought the Modus Walter asked me (after a year) if I'd checked the tyre pressure. I replied that it was a new car, with new tyres so why should I?
Walter and scientist no 1 waiting for me on the side of the road to bring my Renault's wheel-removing equipment since his broke and hers didn't fit. Mine didn't either, fortunately a friend rescued us with his Toyota wheel-removing thingy.
 
But I've always assumed there is a right answer to What tyre pressure should I use?

Wrong.

On our way back from the anniversary adventure in Magoebaskloof we stopped to fill up and I (very responsibly, I thought) decided to check the tyre pressure. I looked on the driver's side door where they conveniently put a little sticker with tyre pressures and confidently asked the attendant to put in the recommended pressure. I could tell he was impressed with my technical knowledge because he leapt into action, air hose in hand and started the process. I was fixing my lipstick in the lipstick mirror so I didn't notice him until he tapped on the window and asked me if I was sure that was right since there was much more air in the tyres already..
Being a girl, and not altogether sure,  I called the salesman who sold me the Ninja. I keep his number on speed dial for exactly these kinds of emergencies. I expected a straight answer, but the silence on the other end of the line wasn't because he was laughing at me, it was because he actually didn't know.
He promised to speak to the workshop manager and get back to me.
Five minutes later he called back with a different tyre pressure, which I told the attendant. I also wrote it down in my obsessive-compulsive-control logbook so that I wouldn't forget.
We've used that ever since.
However, last weekend on the teenytiny4x4 adventure, when the jolly offroader told me to reduce tyre pressure to get through the course without destroying my tyres and kindly offered to do it for me (Walter was distracted by a lurking bird with his binoculars and the bird book) he nearly had a hernia on the spot. "Your tyres are WAY too overinflated" he squawked "who on earth told you to put this much pressure in?"
"The dealer and the workshop manager" I said
"Idiots" he muttered
So now we're back to what it says on the door sticker.
Happy Ninja
 
Actually, it's much more comfortable and doesn't skip around on the highway anymore.
.

Monday, August 2, 2010

Blonde or brunette?

So we got back from the teenytiny4x4 adventure to discover that Scientist No 1 had decided to go back to being a brunette.
The blonde journey has probably cost more than the GDP of a small Arab emirate PLUS I explained that she wouldn't be able to travel internationally without a new passport.
She's off to work as a brunette for the first time, I'm hoping the security people let her in and that her boss recognises her. Perhaps a hat?
Scientist no 1 at the beach when she was about 2, loved hats even as a baby.

Sunday, August 1, 2010

The little car that can

Walter and I finally made it to one of the offroad days to have some fun with the teenytiny 4x4
Of course we had every intention of getting there in time, Groenkloof Nature Reserve is about an hour away, we needed to get petrol, buy braai stuff and get there at around 9.30 so we left at 9.30 (of course)
Things didn't start well, we both paid for petrol - fortunately the petrol attendants know Walter, so they keep a close eye on him and gave us back the money he'd paid over. Then he wandered off in the Spar so it took me some time to find him so that I could establish what he wanted to eat at the braai while he was catching up with the butcher. I finally sent him off to the bottle store to get some liquid refreshments while I packed everything into the cooler box. He returned with a huge bag of ice for the tiny cooler box, so that required the entire car to be re-packed before we could finally set off.
Fortunately it was fairly smooth sailing after that, we even managed to find the turnoff on the first attempt.
Me: Walter, why don't you ask Bob where we should turn
Walter: I don't know how to use him
Me: But you used him in Magoebaskloof
Walter: I've forgotten
Both of us: sigh
We finally got there, paid, found the 4x4 trail and set off with great confidence. How difficult could it be? The road looked good, the invitation had said it wasn't challenging, but more of a nature drive. Perfect.
Hah. After a while we arrived at a mud channel.
Me: This is obviously not the road, it's not tarred.
Walter: This car can do anything. I'll check how bad the mud is. Put it into low range, don't rev it, just drive through at a constant speed.
Me: Why don't we just turn around?
Walter was out of range by this time walking the track
Obviously this isn't the road
The Ninja took a deep breath, clunked some deep bits and set off bravely through the deep primal slime. We arrived on the other side and Walter climbed back in "See? I told you this car can do it" Now that we had done the offroad bit we took it out of low range and set off once again.
Another surprise awaited around the next corner....
These are loose rocks. You are expected to drive over them.
I took one look "Walter, I'm reversing" but his testosterone was engaged - "Nonsense, just drive slowly over them and we'll be fine"
Sure enough the Ninja rose to the challenge and brought us safely through. By this time we considered ourselves old hands and ready for anything the trail could throw at us.
Except the next bit.

If we hadn't caught up with all the other Suzukis at this stage I would definitely have turned around. Loose rocks and sand, a 45 degree angle, this ox wagon track is definitely not a road. The jolly offroaders made us sign an indemnity, hand over more money and proceeded to ask me if I was comfortable driving up the cliff. Um, no. Walter, testosterone in full flight, was having none of it so I threw him out of the car. While I was considering my escape route options a perfect stranger leapt in and said "1st gear, low range, revs at 2,500" I stared at him like a rabbit in the headlights. "Oh, and keep an eye on the chap in the yellow jacket, he'll tell you where to go"
I call this offroading peer pressure, there were cars behind me so I went. A little way. "Stop" shouted the stranger as we went around a corner "I'll show you where to go" So we got out
You should avoid this rock at all costs
By this stage there's no way out. You also can't just close your eyes - I apologised to the Ninja, got back in and promptly stalled. Then I decided that it was nowhere near as scary as the first time you do stalls and spins (fly straight up until the aircraft stalls, drops a wing and tries its best to fall out of the sky end over end). That cheered me up immensely and I set off with gusto. By the time we got to the top (to much cheering and applauding) the helper was strangely quiet and pale but Walter was impressed. "Sjoe"  A man of few words is our Walter.
There was only one more part that gave me pause for concern, we "walked the track" discussing the various options and what to avoid "You don't want to stall here, it's all very loose so you could slide backwards over that cliff" and so on. I'd already decided that Walter could indulge his testosterone on this part and was waiting patiently for him down the track when another jolly offroader patted the roof of the Ninja and said "On your way then, we're just waiting for you"

Little 4x4s all in a row
I set off slowly, looking for Walter (who was conveniently right at the top of the mountain) while various people (all men) gave me different instructions. I picked one, followed his hand signals and when he said "Floor it!" I did. First time. No sliding. Clever Ninja.