Looking in the Mirror, 10 Years Ahead

I am somewhat uninspired.  It is possibly a combination of the mountain of flu meds I’m on and the dismal windy, wintry weather outside.  The fact that it is only Bruno (our accounts bloke) and I in the office today doesn’t help matters either. 

As I drove to work this morning I thought to myself, “I want to blog, but I really don’t have anything to blog about.  So I opted for the Plinky prompt of the day which is:

“10 years from now, what do you hope your life will be like?”

Well, given the fact that ten years from now, I will already be 40, I hope to be settled, in a home of my own, with a husband, a child (or two), and a cat.  Part of me feels lost because at 30, I have only had 2 really serious relationships, both of which ended in disaster.  Every time I find someone I’m interested in, I screw it all up because I come on too strong.  “Hard to get” is a concept I have yet to understand, let alone master.

Besides the proverbial family ‘n white-picket-fence-scene, I know that I don’t want to be working at the farm anymore.  Farming has to be in one’s blood and it definitely isn’t in mine.  Don’t misunderstand me, I like the people I work with, I am just not overly fond of the job.  Hell, one would have thought that by 30, I would already know what I wanted to be doing.  Wait!  I do know what I want to do – write.  But I also am enough of a realist to know that the likelihood of my work ever being published is slim to none.

My second choice is to own a glamourous gourmet sandwich shop.  This stems from my obsessive fascination with food magazines.  Ironically enough, I only cook when I’m really in the mood, and I’m only really ever in the mood when I know there will be guests.  And when I know there will be guests, I generally go the whole hog and prepare a themed (usually three-course) meal.  A while ago, with the help of another blogger, http://browniegirlblog.wordpress.com, I entertained guests with a Moroccan evening.  It was a huge success with the menu being:

Mezze Platter

Ciabatta Bread

Pecan and Raisin Bread

Three Cheese Bread Sticks

Pita Wedges



Rosa Tomatoes


Herbed Feta

Calamata and Queen Olives

I am a huge Hummus fan – I love it on seed loaf with cheese.  Elizabeth asked for some to take home so that she could have it on some fresh bread her Mom had baked.

Main Course

BG’s North African Baked Chicken Tagine – WOW!  Really colourful and delish!

BG’s Jeweled Couscous – I don’t think I will ever cook rice again.  Couscous is so easy.  I didn’t have spring onions that the recipe called for, but I just chopped in a bit of green pepper…

Moroccan Carrot and Orange Salad – DIVINE!  And from me that is a compliment, because I don’t eat carrot salad at the best of times.

Steamed Courgettes – I was supposed to make Courgette Fritters for a starter, but was pressed for time (actually I was enjoying the music so much,I didn’t see what the time actually was), so I just shoved them in the steamer with Salt ‘n Pepper.  Perfect!


Lemon and Rosemary Cake, with Greek Yoghurt – Even though when I made it on Monday night already (the longer it stands, the better the texture and taste), I burnt the top of the cake to a cinder, I managed to save enough and it was lovely.  The Greek Yoghurt was such a lovely accompaniment.    


As Morocco is a predominantly Islamic country, and they do not drink alcohol, I decided to be as authentic as possible and served only orange juice and BG’s minted citrus water, which will be something that there will be a permanent supply of in our fridge as it is super-refreshing.

 I also know that in 10 years time I will be driving a status car.  Preferably a Mercedes, but I’d settle for a Lexus too.  I was hoping to already be driving my status car, but I’ve made some bad life choices which forced me to delay this specific goal.

So, who knows, 10 years from now I may very well be a glamourous-gorgeous-gourmet-sandwich-shop-owner, as well as a married-Mercedes-driving Mom.

Sounds like a good plan, if you ask me. 


Touching Base on All Sorts

 have been neglecting my blog, I know. I have been, and to a point, still am, in quite a bad space, so I opted to rather withdraw a bit because I have some serious soul-searching to do…

The main issue is the promotion offer. I don’t doubt my own abilities, but I have spoken to a number of people about the job, including Sandra, whose shoes I will be filling. She is of the opinion that I am more than capable, but I know what kind of hours she worked last season and honestly, I don’t see myself doing 14 – 16 hours a day, six, sometimes, seven days a week. Not for any amount of money. I have no time for my family, friends, nor any hope of pursuing a relationship (and there is a possibility of one blossoming), because no man would accept those hours.

Steve, one of the new owners, told me that I shouldn’t use last season as a benchmark, given the fact that the farm was in liquidation at the time and that Cameron, the owner at the time, wasn’t willing to spend cash on additional labour. Steve says that he is planning to streamline things a bit, and that, at worst, I will be looking at 11 to 12 hours on a bad day. I will also be compensated for my Sundays and public holidays – there will be no time taken in lieu of, because effectively, there never is time available to take.

This offer has really made me question a lot of things about myself – my life, what I’ve achieved, where I am going, what I want and who I am. It has caused me a tremendous amount of heartache, sorrow, feelings of failure, and even more so, fear. Fear of the unknown.

It brought me too, to a horrific realization. I have lost my faith. I believe in God, and accepted Him into my life many years ago already, but as I grew up, my faith took a back seat. I’m ashamed to say that I have forgotten how to pray. I can pray, but without faith, I am praying to the ceiling. I feel so lost, and it has taken this promotion offer to make me realize this. I still don’t know what I am going to, but I know that God knows the desires of my heart, and that He does have a perfect plan for me. I just need to find the faith to believe what I know.

Then, on other things…

I got home sometime last week when Mom called me to the lounge and showed me something in the You magazine that turned my blood ice-cold. There, in black and white print, under the desperately seeking section, was an entry, “Seeking G…W…L…F…, please call your sister, B…at …). That person is my biological father, whom I haven’t seen in going-on 22 years, but whom I think I saw in a vision (link from my old blog) almost two years ago.

This too has opened the dark recesses of my mind where I thought I had stored him forever, making me re-question many things I had thought had made peace with.

Ok, enough depressing stuff – there is light at the end of the tunnel, and no, it isn’t an oncoming train.

On Friday Steve let us all go off at 15:00 so we could be in time to watch the inaugaral FIFA 2010 Soccer World Cup match between Bafana Bafana and Mexico. We were all told to wear something yellow and green in support and so I improvised, with a little help from Rachel and digging through boxes in storage.

Don’t I look absolutely ayoba?

On the subject of soccer, the bank sent Dad the tickets – but they are for the Netherlands-Cameroon game next Thursday.  Sandra did approve my leave, with the proviso that I will be back on the Saturday to work.  It sucks that I won’t be able to spend the whole weekend in Cape Town, but at least I will be able to say, “I was there.”

Mark and I went for the coffee I mentioned in my previous post, although he had beer and I had Jack Daniels (it was a very long day) and it was a pleasant experience. I found out that he was married for just over 4 years, and has been divorced for just over two and that he has been single for just over six months. He seems like a genuinely nice guy. We cleared up the distrust regarding Rachel, myself and the text messages, but I did hit an extra nail in the coffin when I told him that Rachel and Kyle seem to be getting very close. The night ended on a good note, with him giving me a hug and a kiss goodnight. So…progress…

I have heard from him every day since then. He has been very ill with flu, but I did see him last night. Kyle, Rachel, her brother, his girlfriend and I went dancing at the local haunt where Mark DJ’s and I went to say hello – he seemed pleased to see me, giving me a hug and a kiss – and of course, my heart skipped a beat – I really do like this man, a tremendously great deal.

We had a few dances together, but I could hear he is still sick. I don’t think he should have ventured out in the first place, but he said that he had committed himself to being there to DJ, and so he was fulfilling that commitment. He was a bit stand-offish towards Rachel, which is understandable, but I did tell him that it was unnecessary.

The others left just after 23:30 and, while I had no intention of actually leaving, I went to Mark to say that the others had left, and that I was also going to be leaving. He told me that I wasn’t going anywhere – so I spent the last half hour of his gig, in the DJ box with him, catching up on the last two weeks. The man sounded dreadful. I have hopefully convinced him to go to the doctor, because it is obvious that the medicine he got over the counter isn’t really helping much.

While we sat chatting, he kept touching my arm or my knee, so I think that there is a mutual attraction on some level, which is making me all mushy inside. I invited him home for coffee, but he said he would rather come during the day so that he could meet my parents. He didn’t want them to have a bad impression of him, in the sense that he would only visit when they’re asleep. I admit that I may have had slight ulterior motives, but I respect the fact that he is willing to do things the right way. We rainchecked for this afternoon, but he pulled out – he is utterly and completely voiceless.

I really, really, really, really like him and honestly hope that things may develop between us, but only time will tell. I am not going to force my hand. I have that same butterfly feeling I did with all my other relationships, but yet, there is something different about this one. It is a good different though. I have been humming the tune of Juanita du Plessis’s Mengelmoeskardoes all day…

Is There a Difference…

…between confidence and spunk?

The reason I’m posing this question is that a friend of mine, Rachel, was told by a friend of hers, Warren, that he finds her sexy.  Why?  Because she’s confident.

I posed the question of what a guy finds sexy in a woman to my friend Allan and he gave me an answer in one word.  Spunk.  And for the record, according to Allan, spunk and confidence are not the same thing.  I have given up trying to convince him that they are because he did raise some very valid points.

He says that there is nothing wrong with a confident woman, however sometimes, when a woman is confident, she may be perceived as aggressive.  His exact words were, “when a confident woman works into the room, she demands something from it, and that may cause her to be perceived as aggressive.  Spunk, on the other hand, is innovative, adventurous and spontaneous.”

And here I was, thinking I’m (according to Allan’s destination) spunky.  I know for a fact that I am not adventurous, but I do have some innovation on my side and spontanaity.  Does that make me “conflunky”. 

Hmmm, conflunky.  Sounds like a good synonym for misfit.  BUT, does that make me sexy?  I will just have to don my red shoes and go out dancing on Saturday night to find out.  I will be demanding something from the room though…and that is a good night out, and maybe a spontaneous kiss (or two!).  After all…I’m conflunky (and in desperate need of a good night out).

Feeling Down

Some days a person is the pigeon.  Other days a person is the statue.  Fact.  No matter how hard you try to convince yourself, there is no escaping this simple truth of life.

Generally I like to think of myself as the pigeon.  Not necessarily because I want to shit on the statue-people below, but simply because I like not being shit upon. Lately though, rotten luck has seemed to follow me around, as you will have read in my previous post. 

First the liquidation, then the offer of a (somewhat) “forced” promotion, a colossal argument with my parents (12 years ago my mother tossed me out the house, and two years later took me back, now it’s déjà vu because my dad is starting to act the same way my mom did back then) and now this…

It was explained to us prior to the take-over that we would have to claim outstanding leave money against the liquidated estate, which we have duly done. 

However, during a meeting with the liquidator this morning he told us that a maximum of R4000 will be paid out per claim to preferential creditors (apparently this is set out in the government gazette) and that the balance, if any, will be a pro-rated payout with the other concurrent creditors.  This doesn’t really affect me too badly because after the R4000 is paid, I’m still owed R199,10.

It does however upset me that the old company is screwing everyone over because we were never told about this and every time someone wanted to take a day’s leave in lieu of a public holiday or Sunday worked, there appeared to be a reason why we couldn’t.  There is one member of staff here who is owed over 30 days worth of leave pay (and it must be a stash of cash because she is very qualified and had been with the company for a long period of time), so effectively all she is going to get out is R4000, like all the rest of us and 40% of the balance, if she’s lucky…and that can take up to six months before it gets paid out.

Sometimes when I’m the statue for an expected period, I actually wish I could turn into stone, so I could just stop feeling the bad feelings.  I’m tired of feeling hurt.  I’m tired of feeling angry.  I’m tired of feeling sad.  I’m tired of feeling inadequate.  I’m tired of feeling unworthy.  I’m tired of feeling like I’m in the way. 

Hell, I’m just tired.  Tired of being…

Tired of being me.