TRYING TO FATTEN UP AND REMAIN ANCHORED

The grass in my little garden has begun its annual winter death, hastened by the endless traffic of feet as potential buyers of our property traipse through. It’s the end of year-long trial separation for my husband and I, and he has put the house on the market. My hopes are pinned on a buyer who will allow me to stay on as a paying tenant in my little cottage. I am grounded and comfortable here and the proposition can only be favourable to the new owners; the cottage is rather eccentric in its architecture and would require a fair amount of work before it is marketable to more conservative tenants.

I continue to fiddle in my pots, planting things I can cart away with me if my bid is unsuccessful, but I remain hopeful and fight a daily battle against anxiety that I may be forced to relocate. I keep chanting the mantra that:
“Just for today, I will adjust myself to what is, and not try to adjust everything to my own desires. I will take my “luck” as it comes, and fit myself to it.”
As if God has stirred a spoon of sweetness and mercy into my cup of woes, I have become reconciled with my daughter. This has been a blessing above rubies and my heart is fit to burst.
Some months back I adopted a cat from a friend who was no longer able to keep her. Ally is almost ten years old and provides me with no end of entertainment. She is of a haughty nature and interacts with me strictly on her own terms. Her affectionate side seems only to emerge when I am wearing black trousers and she languidly twines herself around my calves, leaving me to look like an Angora goat from the knees down.

When the property is sold, my mother-in-law is to leave her comfy little flatlet in the main house and move to a retirement home. This pending move has spurred her to make endless shopping lists, as though she will soon be incarcerated into a maximum security prison. I’m kept very busy ferrying her about and she usually finagles a visit to a tearoom into our outings; she is concerned about my recent weight loss and is foisting all manner of sweet and savoury meals on me.

Pie, gravy and chips at our local tea room.

A fat slice of lemon meringue pie to load on some winter-beating lard.
In the midst of all this flux, I take heed of Louise Hay’s affirmation that 49 is the dawn of a new age and try to see all of this as the start of a new chapter in my life.
Be well, my friends, and count your blessing daily.
Much love.

MAKIN’ A JOYFUL NOISE

I’m surprised at how quickly I have adapted to, and come to enjoy, the single life. People are telling me I look better than I have in years and I feel that way too. I recently discovered the CDs of Louise Hay and have been listening to them in the car on the way to and from work and find them extremely motivational.

But I think my newfound feelings of wellbeing stem from more than that; I have discovered the joy of solitude and the freedom to do what I like, when I like. This includes my diet and it’s no great coincidence that so many of my meals lately include All Joy’s Veri Peri sauce. At the end of the day, in these last days of summer, there’s great reward in enjoying a seared sirloin steak on a hot salad of warm shimeji mushrooms and tomatoes.

I wrote some time back about a fantastic chicken salad I made to take along for my work lunch, and the people at All Joy Foods stumbled on the post and asked me to share the recipe. It’s so simple that there is no real recipe. Simply cut a deboned, skinned chicken breast into bite-sized pieces and season to taste; panfry in a little olive oil and set aside. In the same pan, fry baby tomatoes until the juices just start to emerge; remove and add to the chicken. Drizzle with All Joy Veri Peri sauce – the amount you use depends on your personal taste, I use about one teaspoonful. Toss this mixture into cooked pasta and refrigerate overnight; the juices of the chicken, tomato and sauce with infuse beautifully with the noodles. Serve hot or cold. A squeeze of lemon juice just before serving adds an extra zing.

An equally easy addition to the work lunchbox is to make a dip for crudités, cold meats or fish bites – simply add a teaspoon of Veri Peri sauce to two tablespoons of mayonnaise. And spreading a slice of toast before adding cheese and placing under a hot grill makes for a fine late-night snack, better than any Welsh Rarebit I’ve ever had!

I’m taking one day at a time, with the mantra that: Just for today, I will be happy. This assumes to be true what Abraham Lincoln said, that “most folks are as happy as they make up their minds to be.”
So far it’s working, and it’s ALL JOY, ALL THE WAY.
Have a great weekend, my friends, and thanks for your stalwart support.
I love you all.

Disclaimer: I have not been paid by All Joy Foods to write this post.

HOW FRIENDS AND FROCKS FIX THE BLUES

Many things can happen when life deals you a series of blows. You can fall apart in many ways, or you can take up the offer made by true friends and lean on them. I’ve done a lot, a whole lot, of leaning over the past sixteen months and my friends have come through for me every time. Often it has simply been that curious thing that woman do; just ‘sitting’ with me while I absorb and come to terms with new troubles.

Comfort food of the first order: Breakfast at Canteen:

In the past two weeks I’ve had two major blows; my daughter went to boarding school and my husband told me this morning that there is no chance of our marriage being reconciled. Instinctively, I wanted nothing more than to climb into a vat of wine and drown myself. But I didn’t; I allowed my friends to rally.

My very good friend, Ellen, took me to spend the day at Arts On Main today. This precinct is part of the attempt to rejuvenate the city centre of Johannesburg and is a hidden gem. A little hub of quirky restaurants serving anything from Nigerian food to traditional bistro fare. There’s a flea market with clothing and jewelry stalls and a food market with dozens of stalls selling various ethnic foods and tastebud-tempting cakes and sweets.

We ate and then trawled all the little shops. I spotted this polka dot frock and thought it the perfect outfit in which to walk tall and thumb my nose at bad luck. I may be retrenched from my job in the near future and the dress will, I am sure, bring me only good luck when I commence my search for a new job.

I came home with just enough time to have a little rest and write this post and then it will be time to be taken to dinner by another caring friend, my next-door neighbor, Lina.
Happiness comes when we stop complaining about the troubles we have and thank God for the troubles we don’t have. In my circle of friends I have riches beyond measure; near and far. And I am grateful.

TERLIBANS AND BULLDUST

This is not a food post, but here’s a picture of a fine lamb vindaloo with red beans on smashed potatoes to start off with.

I received a friend request on Facebook. Because I saw we had a mutual friend, I accepted. The bloke’s photo looked quite respectable; he didn’t look like a serial killer and his profile didn’t list any weird fetishes, so I accepted. Your man, however, apparently saw me in a rather different light and he immediately popped up in my chat window. This is the conversation that ensued:
Army guy: hello
Me: Hi there, how are you?
Army guy: cool and you
Me: Not really cool, we’re having a bit of a heatwave.
Army Guy: oh sorry about that have been busy also here…..some terlibans attacked some of our men but we have tracked them down
Me: Oh, you in the army?
Army guy: yes
Me: Oh, OK.
Army guy: i will love to get to know more about you where are you from ?
Me: I’m based in Johannesburg, you?
Army guy: am born and brought up in Maryland Baltimore have you been to the state before
Me: No. I have travelled extensively in Europe, but have never been to the USA.
Army guy: Am just here glancing through ammunition and newly delivered weapons what are you doing now ?
Me: Editing a text book. Don’t you have strict security protocol about disclosing your activities?
Army guy: lol we have of cause
Me: Sorry, I am an editor and I can’t help myself from correcting people’s grammar. You mean “of course”?
Army guy: lol yes if i may ask are you married or single ?
Me: I am separated. Where are you stationed?
Army guy: Kabul your husband most have been a looser to have loose a sexy looking lady like you
Me: Thank you.
Army guy: you are welcome do you still have the heart to love again
Me: No, not for a long time. I am still very fragile.
Army guy: you dont have to look into all that for get about the past and look into the future if i may ask what are the qualities you need in a man……you seems to be a very nice lady
Me: Well. First he’d need to be an avid reader and know what I was talking about when I make literary reference. He
should know jazz. And he absolutely has to love dogs. And he would need to enjoy good food.
Army guy: I Like going to Beach,swim,Dance,Write Poem,Dinner,Hanging around with Friends and going to church as well..Just that i am Looking for a nice,Caring,Lovely woman…I want someone that is honest and being trustworthy,Who will be there for me,who will Love me for who i am and who i will love as well..I am a simple Man,Honest,Kind,Caring, Hate Lies,Cheating and not truthful,I am one woman Man.
Me: I hope you find her. I’m not that person; best of luck, I wish you well in your search for your queen.

It takes all types to make a world, eh? I’ll just stick to gardening for the foreseeable future. At least my roses don’t tell lies.

OF GRIEF AND SIMPLE PLEASURES

My blogging friend of long standing, adinparadise, tagged me in her ‘Simple Pleasures’ post. I saw her tag comment minutes after reading the news about the tragedy that recently occurred in Connecticut and my thoughts were turned to the things I can be grateful for in the face of the sadness that those families are experiencing during this, the first festive season without their loved ones. I can’t begin to imagine how life continues after you have had to bury a child. I am estranged from my own daughter and my grief knows no limits, but I thank God every day that she is a healthy, beautiful and grounded young woman.

So, I turn to counting my blessings and looking for the simple pleasures that come with being alone at Christmas. Small things such as the unadulterated luxury of having as much time as I like to enjoy a pedicure, while playing loud, trashy music to sing along to.

The freedom to meet a friend for lunch and have no curfew.

Eating my supper outside, early and not worrying that it’s not a balanced meal. Mushrooms are vegetables, after all.

And through the grief and abjectly lonely moments, I have the support of my friends in AA; my sponsor – who will drop everything and come to me if I only say the word, those who call or email regularly and those who have made sure I have somewhere to be on Christmas Day.
“See, alcoholism is exactly like bubble gum. You know when you blow a bubble and it bursts, some of the gum sticks to your chin?”
Small, tentative laughter.
“What’s the only thing that gets the bubble gum off your chin?” she asks.
Sometimes I will chew grape bubble gum because it stinks and hides the smell of alcohol. I answer, “Bubble gum. You have to take the gum out of your mouth and press it against the gum on your chin and it’ll pick it up.”
Rae beams. “You’ve got it.”
Slam dunk. I am on the road to recovery.
“Only an alcoholic can treat another alcoholic. Only other alcoholics can get you sober.”
From ‘ Dry. A memoir.’ By Augusten Burroughs.
And then there are my blog friends. To you all I, I wish you a happy festive season and thank you for your support during the highs and lows of the past year.

Namaste.

JACK WILLIAM AND A SOLITARY FESTIVE SEASON

My sister’s name is Jacquelyn. On her first day of school, she – not being one to ever do things in single measures – befriended a set of twins as new best friends. The school being a girls-only establishment made the mother of said twins a little curious when they arrived home full of praise for their new friend ‘Jack William’; the woman was very relieved to discover that there was no double-barrel-named little boy in the class and that her daughters had simply given my sister’s name their own interpretation.
I’ve always called her Jackie, and she is everything a sister ought to be. Although she’s much younger than me (my brother came in the middle of us three children; the only ‘planned’ baby my parents produced – but that is another story, for a different day) she’s been my bedrock through all my ups and downs.

I recently bought myself a rabbit; Jackie had sent me some money and I was missing Betsy. This, the latest in my longtime habit of rabbit-ownership, is one that cannot destroy my garden. It seemed only fitting that my new bunny be named Jack William and he (yes, he’s pink, but I decided I needed a male about the place) somehow makes Jackie closer to me as I enjoy my early-morning coffee in the garden every day. Jack William is proving to be an amiable housemate; he’s most agreeable and I’ve yet to hear him utter a bad word.

Living alone is becoming easier as I get on with it. Being so busy at work helps and the free time I do have is usually taken up by my trying to catch up with sleep. I do enjoy the freedom to do as I please; like eating fish fingers for breakfast without having to explain myself. And the pleasure of having an entire chocolate orange all to myself.

Johannesburg is fast becoming empty; everyone’s starting their annual trek to the coast. I’ll be home alone over the festive season for the first time in my life. I’ve armed myself against melancholy with lots to read and plan to watch a lot of movies. My mantra will be that wonderful quote by Paul Tillich:
“Language… has created the word “loneliness” to express the pain of being alone. And it has created the word “solitude” to express the glory of being alone.”

And if the glory wanes somewhat, I know that my sister is only a phone call away.

FRESH HELL AND HOISIN DUCK

Motley crews are, by definition, non-uniform and undisciplined as a group. They are characterised by containing characters of conflicting personality, varying backgrounds, and, usually to the benefit of the group, a wide array of methods for overcoming adversity. Traditionally, a motley crew who in the course of a story comes into conflict with an organised, uniform group of characters will prevail. This is generally achieved through the narrative utilising the various specialties, traits and other personal advantages of each member to counterbalance the (often sole) speciality of a formal group of adversaries. (Source: Wikipedia.)
We’re a motley crew at the moment, us at work. Our toenails are chipped, our legs unshaven and our eyebrows … well they’d give hairy caterpillars a run for their money. With our deadline for submission of our books for selection into the 2013 teaching curriculum, we’ve been pulling long shifts. Most mornings have found me having a good bawl; drying my eyes, getting on with it and collapsing at midday – only to start all over again for the afternoon stint.
(What fresh hell is this???My spellchecker won’t accept ‘bawl’ as a word. It damnwell is too, I’m doing it often enough these days! Hmphfff! :
More Wikipedia trivia:
“If the doorbell rang in her apartment, she would say, ‘What fresh hell can this be?’ — and it wasn’t funny; she meant it.” You might as well live: the life and times of Dorothy Parker, John Keats (Simon Schuster, 1970, p124). Often quoted as “What fresh hell is this?” as in the title of the 1987 biography by Marion Meade, “Dorothy Parker: What Fresh Hell Is This?”)

My desk has been an island of hell, but with the support of my amazing team mates, the impossible has been achieved and all my books are running nicely on track. Small, thoughtful gifts from caring friends form a little shrine to my spiritual sanity throughout this trying time.

I get home too wired to sleep immediately, and have utilized this energy to cook and freeze as many meals as I can and so ensure that I have a hot meal at work every day.

Eating a steaming bowl of Hoisin duck, telephone at my ear, while an irate author bangs on about outstanding artwork … well, it does make things bearable.
And so it goes … as my friend, Charlie, always says. We forge ahead and keep in mind that the end is in sight, and that – with it – comes the promise of the return to serenity. And chocolate always helps …