All burned out and nowhere to go

Midnight multitasking.

Looking through my (very old) high school reports there's a common theme running through all the comments: Karen has so much potential, it's a pity she wastes it.
My coach* has a theory that these comments may have contributed to my workaholism and subsequent burnout. With the underlying message that the child is lazy and couldn't be bothered to work underachievers may feel guilty about their perceived poor work ethic and spend the rest of their lives trying to prove they can work as hard as anyone else.
Underachievers and workaholics are not the only people at risk; Dr Sherrie Bourg Carter has devoted an entire book to helping superachievers avoid burnout.
"In this authoritative, thoroughly researched volume, psychologist Sherrie Bourg Carter draws on more than 15 years experience and expertise to explore the unique challenges high-achieving women face and provides helpful insights and practical ways to avoid burnout, enjoy healthy fulfilling lives, and find the perfect work/life balance."
Disclaimer - I haven't read the book, nor do I qualify as a superachiever, so I'm not in a position to comment. I have serious doubts about anyone finding the perfect work/life balance though.
Burnout is not new, but it is a growing problem worldwide, with health professionals leading the way. The casualties are also getting younger as Larissa Faw wrote in her 2011 Forbes piece Why Millennial Women Are Burning Out At Work By 30
I suspect our hyper-connected lifestyle isn't helping - there is no clear distinction between work time and down time anymore. Increasing work loads and expectations you will be available all the time mean there is less and less time for work-unrelated activities. People feel guilty about saying no and have problems switching off from work even when they are away on holiday.

The Mayo Clinic has a piece on how to spot job burn out and the Helpguide's recovery strategy gives good advice on what you should do to recover.
Are you suffering from burnout? Let me know what your recovery strategies are, I'm shamelessly stealing all good suggestions.


*I know, right? But in this instance an unrelated professional has provided me with a lot of help.

Taking a sabbatical

The Pink Drinks girls had widely varying responses to my announcement that I would be 'taking a sabbatical'
Gorgeous Genius blinked at me over her Manhattan and announced it was time for an intervention "Karen buys and sells companies, she doesn't disappear into Buddhist retreats. Clearly she's had a nervous breakdown"
The Border Collie disagreed "Nonsense. They aren't paying private school fees any longer" and my Grandmother (after greeting me with a "You look too dreadful, you need a rest") drained her Tequila sunrise and said "I think it's a fabulous idea. We can walk again"

It had been an exceptionally difficult day at the office, I realised I hadn't seen my best friend in two years and I had a meltdown trying to figure out if I had the energy to have dinner with other friends over the weekend.

I think the team was trying to tell me something...

Sabbatical or a sabbatical (from Latin sabbaticus, from Greek sabbatikos, from Hebrew shabbat, i.e., Sabbath, literally a "ceasing") is a rest from work, or a break, often lasting from two months to a year. The concept of sabbatical has a source in shmita, described several places in the Bible (Leviticus 25, for example, where there is a commandment to desist from working the fields in the seventh year). In the strict sense, therefore, a sabbatical lasts a year. (Wikipedia)

I don't have a year, in fact I consider myself extremely fortunate to be able to take a month off, and the first lesson will be the hardest; to leave the work alone.
I failed miserably on the first day, fielding calls and answering emails. It's day two and I've answered emails so I've scaled down my objectives to: Do not answer the phone. Let's see  how it goes.

A limb has fallen from the family tree

Unknown

Scientist no 1 found this and posted it on her Facebook page in response to losing her uncle, my brother-in-law to cancer.
We are strangely unaccustomed to death even when we know it's overdue.
RIP sweet man, you made us all better people, just for knowing you.

The Amur Falcons of Heidelberg

"Let's go and see the Amur falcons roosting in Heidelberg" said my grandmother* a few weeks back, "they'll be leaving soon and we can have afternoon tea in town first"
She had found an article in The Saturday Star describing the spectacle of watching the flock coming in to roost in Heidelberg, a little town on the N2 not far from Johannesburg.

Image credit - Andrew Keys
These brave little birds fly non-stop over the ocean for two to three days on their annual migration from Asia to Southern Africa to choose mass roosting spots for their summer holidays.
And so, armed with binoculars and enough snacks to feed a small army, we set off one Saturday afternoon to take tea at Her Majesteas Salon (highly recommended) before finding the roosting spot described in the carefully folded newspaper clipping in my grandmother's handbag.

I'm not sure this particular group has chosen terribly well; a high grove of Poplars behind the local Spar in a particularly seedy part of town, music from the sports bar below blaring out as patrons leave, shouting their drunken farewells.

We were a little late in the year to catch the full flock, with only a hundred or so birds left behind. But still, it's a remarkable experience to watch them coming in for the night, massing high above in the clouds, then swooping in, one by one, to take up their chosen resting spot.

And the clouds that evening were beyond spectacular, reflecting the colours of the setting sun across the way.

Sunset

This shot taken facing east, the light reflecting off the clouds

The two tiny black spots are falcons coming in to roost from the east

Perhaps they haven't chosen badly after all if that light show is anything to go by. Fly safely little birds.

*She's not really my grandmother, it's a (mildly rude) term of endearment for my dear friend Nan. Who is obviously MUCH older than I.

Short travels

Walter and I have been exploring places a little closer to home than Tuscany lately; the combination of the petrol price, the currency and work demands have limited our choices.

Have hat, will travel.

In a fit of insomnia-induced midnight madness I decided we should go to the Clarens Craft Beer Festival. Walter agreed, then went back to sleep.
The closer it came the more I panicked. Surely this was a huge mistake? Wouldn't there be drunken students and mad crowds? I decided we would have to manage our exposure to both quite carefully. I booked the most expensive food and beer pairing I could find for the night before the start of the festival and chose accommodation just beyond staggering distance from the festival itself. The pairing conveniently doubled as our Valentine's Day celebrations even though it was well after the actual date. This is how I rationalise the cost and appear thoughtful while cunningly avoiding commercial traps.It has nothing to do with forgetting the date. At all.

Yes I spotted the typo, but we weren't there for the writing. The food was excellent.

The garden needs some colour

The forest plan for the garden has some drawbacks, mainly the lack of wide open spaces with enough sun to plant masses of flowers.

The herons keep an eye on the arums

We moved the roses a few months back, they really don't like the shade much

But when I left the hanging flower pots on the lawn to get some rain the gardener decided that was an instruction to plant out the flowers. So I came home to six empty hanging pots and a few flowers dotted around the garden.

The Noddy Car

Walter will kill me for writing about his beloved car as The Noddy Car

Prime position in the study, just beneath a (very old) picture of the children

Now Walter has never been a car person. Sensible, safe sedans with good fuel efficiency have successfully made it onto the purchase list time and again. "Cars are functional" he would say (with a fairly superior tone), "I can't understand why people are willing to spend so much money when there are perfectly good alternatives"

The dinky version, on his desk. Well yes, in retrospect the signs were there

So you'll understand my surprise when I got home from a business trip last year to find a roadster tucked into our garage.

Walter, embracing his inner boy.

I shouldn't have been surprised. When I worked on the Mazda business my client very kindly let me take one for a weekend so that I could understand what all the fuss was about. I think there would have been less fuss at home if I'd won the lottery - and, looking back, I only have myself to blame.His face, when I pulled into the driveway, was a dead give away. A small boy on Christmas morning, getting exactly what he wanted.

And it's great fun, really, to go for roof-down Sunday drives to distant country restaurants for long, lazy lunches.

It's war

Just going through the pictures from our short break reminded me of the the Marakele Vervet Monkey war of 2013....

No. It's not a prisoner of war. It's trying to get the bits of meat stuck onto the braai grid.

When I saw them moving through the camp on the first day I made a point of saying "there's a troop of Vervets, don't leave anything lying around"
We have not managed to get through nearly 28 years of marriage by Walter actually listening to me (I call this the wife white noise strategy) and he gave me his customary nod and smile and carried on regardless.

Sure enough - the very next day I spotted one making a lightning-fast dash across the deck, grabbing Walter's cigarettes off the table without missing a beat and leaping into the trees holding his prize aloft. Of course once he opened the box and took a sniff of the contents he threw it away in disgust (fortunately. I'm not sure how we would have removed them otherwise)

A spot of night fishing

One of the blogs I follow is Mainly Mongoose, stories from a zoologist living in the wild and studying mongoose. Mongi? Mongeese? Anyway, she writes lovely stories about her life in the bush that usually make me quite nostalgic for the time I spent living in the Sumbu National Park in Zambia.

Picture from Nature Destinations. That's the main dining area and bar, with a giant winterthorn tree

I spent many a day fishing in the bay in my tiny fishing boat with a motor only just big enough to take me about 250m offshore before it would inevitably sputter and die. I loved fishing and quite often missed radio school, simply shouting back to my mother that the motor wouldn't start (it's quite easy to do, just cut off the fuel supply) Thinking about it now, this is likely the reason she ended up sending me two countries away to boarding school in South Africa.