Back in the black

Well, hello pay day, so nice to see you again. It's been a while. I've missed you. Really I have. I know some people may say I only look forward to seeing you when I need something, like MoroccanHairOil or tickets to Up the Creek, but that's ... okay, well yeah, that's true. But hey. We can still be friends, right?

It's so nice to have a positive bank balance and (nearly) zeroed credit card again. Wow it feels good to have more than two digits at the bottom of my internet banking statement again.

Let's face it – as rad as getting paid early in December is, January sucks a little when you run out of disposable income around the second (especially if you spent most of your remaining ZARs on bubbly – hard to subsist on that stuff, or put it into your fuel tank).

Anyway, today, despite it being the middle of the week, is a good day. Here's to No-negativity Wednesday!

I like to move it, move it

So, be proud, bloglings – I'm on week three of my running programme (yes, miraculous, considering last week was week one, but I need to step up the pace since the race is in, oh, just over six weeks). Hit the treadmill yesterday morning before work and clocked 30 minutes and 3.5 km.

That may not sound like much, but it's a lot more than this asthmatic non-runner ever thought she'd do. And sure that was still a running/walking combo, but hey, I'm proud.

Of course, it wasn't without its moments. Firstly, I figured out why I find it so hard to run ... I've been jogging on my toes all my life! That's what you get for doing ballet instead of regular sports I guess. Oh well. I'm now focusing on putting my heel down first, which means I have to concentrate very hard while running, and look like a bit of a special person.

Secondly, came pretty close to embarrassing myself when my headphone cable got tangled and my iPod slipped off the little shelf thing, hit the treadmill and went shooting off behind me at a couple of people on spinning bikes. Succeeded in the afore-attempted embarrassment when it happened at second time. Doh...

The weekend in numbers

Yes, I'm a bit behind...

Number of nights in: one. Friday night. It's January, after all folks and my bank balance is looking dire, or whatever word means 'worse than dire'.

Number of killing sunburns: one. And I've been so good lately. But I was temporarily separated from my sunscreen during the TotalSports Challenge (do you like how I made it sound like I was doing the Challenge, as opposed to just cheering on a friend?). Oh well. Strap-lined shoulders and red calves are where my tan's at, at the moment. 

Number of Peddlar's burgers after the TotalSports Challenge (and a shower): one. Worth mentioning. They're just so good. 

Number of naps on Saturday afternoon: zero. I tried. But then some woman got stuck in the lift at Boyfriend's flat, and damn near screamed the building down for 45 minutes afterwards. Not conducive to REM. 

Number of times I laughed on Saturday: brazillions. Saw Nic Rabinowitz in Stand Up and Deliver at the Baxter. 

Number of music legends seen in concert: one. Johnny Clegg at Kirstenbosch. You have to love summer in Cape Town, don't you?

RUN!

This isn't me, but damn I'd like it to be.

Went for my first run on the promenade yesterday, which (if you include running on the treadmill on Wednesday morning) brings my total number of running training sessions in 2012 up to two.

Which brings my total number of running training sessions in my life, pretty much, up to two.

Late last year I read about the annual Mouille Point Lighthouse Nite (their spelling, not mine) Race. It's 10 km along the Sea Point prom, from the lighthouse to Bantry Bay or so and back, in a loop. Sounded quite fun, until I reminded myself, 'Yeah but Jade, you don't run. You can't.'

And then I realised I was tired of hearing myself say things like that. Yes I've never really run for more than a minute in my life without getting out of breath, but everyone starts somewhere right? And the reason I think I can't, is because I haven't actually tried. Because, as with so many things in my life, I'm scared that trying might lead to failing, and I grew up believing that failing was not an option. I never tried out for the soccer team, never ran for prefect, never aimed to get a first in a varsity course I vaguely struggled with (in fact I opted to drop out of first year at one point, rather than not get the tertiary education equivalent of straight As), mostly because I was scared of what would happen if I had a dream and it didn't come true.

So I am going to try. Even if it's hard, even if I don't turn out to be gifted at it, even if I suck. My goal is to start training, and finish that race. After that, I'll see if I want to carry on with this running malarkey. But at the moment, it just feels good to have a goal. Scary, yes, the whole whatifIdon'tachieveit thing, but it's a new and exciting feeling too.

Vive la single resolution

So, I've finally jumped on the bandwagon with the rest of the world, and said 'bah humbug!' to NY resolutions.

No more 'I will lose five kilos' (although I will), 'I will make more of an effort with friends' (although I will), 'I will write more' (although I will)...

Instead, I've come up with the resolution to end all resolutions.

Ready?

In 2012, I will ... Spend My Time More Wisely.

Simple, no? Yes. And no. Because it inherently includes the following:

• I will worry less, and dream more
• I will procrastinate less, and do more
• I will watch less (bad) TV, and read more
• I will do less laundry, and socialise more
• I will drive less, and spend more quality time with people who count
• I will stress less, and exercise more

And so on, and so forth. It's kind of an undefined carpe diem moment I'm having. To get the heck out of dodge (aka my boring, stale, tired routine) and do more of what makes me happy, which is what a handy sign on our office inspiration wall so helpfully tells me every morning.

The Birthday Comedy of Errors

Having a birthday on 1 January is a blessing and a curse. The night before, it's extra Champagne for the birthday girl, and no cleaning up the next day, which is all great, but you do tend to begin your next year of life with your 'morning after the night before' head on, and there is double the expectation that people normally carry into the whole NY palaver.


So the birthday began with watching Le Boyfriend (saintly, he is) tidy up the house we were sitting, before we hightailed it to his flat for a quick nap, which turned into a longish sleep. I then zooted home to my parents' place for much bestowing of love and smiles and presents, only to have something of an upheaval with my father because, contrary to my wishes, he had organised a family lunch for the occasion, at a place and time of his choosing.

Given that I had organised a birthday picnic for 30 people the following day – an event for which I still needed to get into the kitchen and bake and ice a gazillion cupcakes – needless to say this lunch didn't fit into my plans. Regardless, we went, me at 25 years of age sulking like a 12-year-old and having to have Le Boyfriend poke me in the ribs every time I looked like I was going to sass.

My actual birthday evening saw me sweating and slaving at a hot oven (allow me a little sense of the dramatic, please), churning out a small army of perfect, pink cupcakes for the picnic the next day.

Upon which it rained. Cue cancelling of picnic.

No matter, still have Le Boyf's Birthday Surprise Adventure to look forward to this morning!

Oh wait. Cancelled due to rain too.

No matter. Stiff upper lip. Grab my Girl Love and The Fisherman and head to Ratanga Junction for some good old-fashioned tomfoolery and rollercoasters. Fantastic day. Entirely drove the blighted birthday blues away.

Until we got home, that was, and the three drinks I'd had tipped the scales on a nauseous tummy that had been building for a few days, and I spent the rest of the evening heaving over the toilet bowl.

Grand no? Everybody better cross their bloody fingers it doesn't rain on Saturday, when the Birthday Picnic Take Two will be taking place. I will not be amused if more rain should mar my birthday week.

See? Errors, comedy of.

And yet, at the end of it all, Le Boyfriend again managed to swoop in – quite literally – and save the day. My postponed birthday surprise saw the pair of us taking a leap of faith off Lion's Head last night, in a tandem paraglide, something I've wanted to do forever.

Best. Boyfriend. Ever. TM.

Are you prepared for the pants-off-toe-tingling excitement of What I Did On My Holidays?

You probably are. Even if you just woke up.

Because I don't feel like I did too much out of the ordinary in the past two weeks, really. What I certainly didn't do was go to/think about/worry about work, nor did I check a single email. That's what leave is for right?

There was, of course, the mandatory stuffing of my face and glugging of wine and gin over Christmas (okay, fine, and before Christmas, and after Christmas, and for New Year), the result of which is that I'm sure I've gained at least one dress size as well as a phantom pregnancy.

Other activities included but were not exclusive to

• Far too much time in shopping malls (for myself, and for others, I'll have you know)
• Much watching of series and movies
• House-sitting (dog-sitting really) over NYE, and
• The Birthday Comedy of Errors, coming soon to a blog near you

SCrew this work thing, I'm joining the circus

I am a sad horsey.

First day back at work in 2012. Can't help but say, I'm not loving it.

Watch this space, I may give up words and join the circus.

While I consider it, you'll have to wait that little bit longer for my festive season blah blah.

Okay?

Cool.

She'd fly through the air with the greatest of ease...

Adios office

It turns out that you can't make red icing with red liquid food colouring, so what were going to be Christmas cupcakes, are now a pretty pink pre-birthday variety. Gotta adapt yo...

Last day of work today, and it couldn't have come soon enough.

Luckily, everyone else seems to be on a go-slow already too, so today may include eating the cupcakes I baked last night, taking a long lunch for a staff member's farewell, and not too much else.

Suits me just fine. I'm wearing my new stripey wedges from WW, and they're putting me in a very laid-back, holiday mood.

As for my Christmas shopping...
Mum √
Dad ?? Help!
Dear brother ?? Help!
Le Boyfriend √
Le Boyfriend's family √

Sometimes I love having a tiny family, and friends who aren't fussed about Christmas gifts. It drastically reduces the time I have to spend in malls over this period, and gives me more time to go crazy with wrapping paper.

Yikes

Crikey, I've been bad of late. I had this master plan that involved me not blogging at all during November while work was crazy busy, and then coming back with a bang in December, when work slowed down to a crawl and I had time to do things like organise my stationery by colour scheme and alphabetise my Christmas shopping list.

Turns out, the spanner in that wheel was that being promoted doesn't just mean a shiny new payload, it also means more responsibility and a lot less time on my hands in the office (who knew?). And, consequently, a lot less time for blogging and stationery organising and so forth.

But anyway, here I am, with two days of work left before I'm on holi-holi-holiday, and only five days to go before my absolute favourite day of the year – Christmas. (Yes, I'm one of those people...)

So ho ho ho. I hope you have all wrapped and DHL'd your gifts to me already. You know I'm partial to beauty spoils and confectionery. Just saying...

Happy 1 December ladies

It's time to lose the mos, bros.

Did you miss me?

So, given that it's the last day of November, and the post directly below is dated the first, I think it's safe to assume I've had a fairly busy month.

Here's what I was up to while maintaining blog silence...

• Sent 11 different magazines to print in the space of two weeks
• Got promoted
• Celebrated Le Boyfriend's 30th birthday
• Flew in a helicopter from the V&A to Constantia Uitsig for a picnic
• Found my perfect pair of stripey, peep-toe wedges
• Climbed Table Mountain (okay Le Boyf says I can't say that, because we just walked up Constantia Nek and down Skeleton Gorge, not up up the mountain, but still)
• Danced in my first contemporary show at the Magnet Theatre in Obs
• Didn't ghd my hair for nearly the entire month

See? Busy girl.

Movember madness

Okay here we go. Movember. The month of the great unshaved. Thirty days of failing to recognise your loved ones because they are all now sporting The Trucker, The Connoisseur or (shame) The Wisp. And yet, it's for a good cause in the end, so we shall smile and pat our boyfriends and brothers on the back while they wear their primary male sexual characteristics with pride.

Boyfriend, who has been cultivating a rather impressive beard of late (tell anyone I said that and I'll deny it), Whatsapped me the following last night:

I have no more power. The beard is gone. I am cleanly shaven. 

The rules of Movember are clear. Now for the 'tache...

And so, since I am lacking in the chin fuzz department myself, I've joined Le Boyfriend and his posse's Movember team (support us here please please please). Also, herewith, please find my graphical support for Movember Madness:

Who are you going to be, man?

I'm seriously looking into where I can find one of these mus-tutus...

Sunday morning thoughts, in pictures

KOL

Sorry for those of you who weren't there, but Kings of Leon was awesome – the sound, the lights, the beer, the 18-odd girls walking around in mom shorts with terrible cameltoe who seemed to think they were the cutting edge of hipster cool...

No really, it was pretty fantastic, the second world-class stadium show I've been to in a month. Happiness.

One gripe I'd have is that, unlike the charismatic Chris Martin, the Followills didn't really interact with the crowd much, apart from a 'Hello Cape Town' here and there. Then again, perhaps that's just the nature of indie rock performances...

Oh and we came, we kind of conquered, but we couldn't see. Good thing the production was so first-rate, and Le Boyfriend managed to get me on to his shoulders for a bit. Thanks baby...

Road-tripping

This isn't my car, and this isn't me, but it's exactly what I feel like doing at the moment.

Editing a photo essay about the Garden Route, and something inside me went Ping! I feel like doing that.

Not the Garden Route necessarily, more the meandering drives, the staying over at various beautiful places, the living in shorts and tees, and the whole not worrying about my hair or deadlines or social engagements thing.

Over summer 2008/9 and 2009/10, Le Boyfriend and I and a handful of friends did epic cross-SADC road trips. Last year I waited patiently in Cape Town as he and the boys drove slowly down from Durban to Cape Town, learning to surf at J-Bay and chickening out of bungee-jumping along the way. (My excitement at the fact that once he was finally here, he wasn't leaving again, made it easier to stay behind and work and let them have their fun).

But now the furthest I've driven all year is Franschhoek, and I'm in the mood to hop in the front seat and get the hell out of dodge over December.

Some plans need to be made I think.

The super-busy weekend in numbers

Number of G&Ts on Friday night while camping over at The Impi Challenge course (which we were marshalling the next day): one too many methinks. Not clever Jade, not clever at all.

Number of Impi contestants who said 'Under?' after I'd told them 'Under the hurdles please' at our obstacle: too many to count. Did they really think they'd be able to step over them? Come on now guys...

Number of times I sneezed after Impi: too fucking many. Worst hayfever of my life I tell you. Not cool at all. Took the deadly Allergex again because I didn't have Texaten and I didn't want to sneeze over everyone's dinner at the hen party we were supposed to be going to at StarDust (that crazy restaurant where the staff get up on stage and perform musical numbers in between courses).

Number of crazy queer birthday parties happening at StarDust alongside our very-tame-in-comparison hen party: one. A 30th. With about 30 people. All dressed up in 80s drag. It was phenomenal. Phee-nom-anal. And so happy and festive. Especially when the 'I Will Survive' was performed. If I hadn't just about knocked myself out on Allergex, it would have been an awesome party.


Number of roses growing at Cellars Hohenort: gazillions. Le Boyfriend and I took a stroll through the gardens for charity yesterday, ooh and ahhing at all the pretty growing things and manicured hedges and whatnot like a couple of old ducks before having tea and scones on the terrace. Then, more to our style, we hit The Martini Bar for some real drinks.

Number of Maritnis consumed at The Martini Bar: one each. We'd been boldly choosing different Martinis off the menu for our second and third rounds, but came undone after just one. It'd been a long weekend okay?

Nostalgia

So, sometimes when I'm struggling to fall asleep, my mind does this weird thing I like to call my Nostalgia Track. It starts throwing up memories and random images from my 24-year history – some happy, some painful, some that make me go 'Wow, I can't believe I'd nearly forgotten about that...'

Hey, I never said I was normal...

Anyway, it used to bug me, and the first time it happened I remember crying and crying and missing the good old days and wishing I'd been less of a horrible teenager and regretting lots of stuff I'd done (or wanted to and hadn't). But eventually I got over all the angst, and have learnt to enjoy it.

It happened again last night – why is it that when I know I have to get up really early, I can never get to sleep? – and since I'm already in a Chrsitmas-y frame of mind (more on that later), it threw up lots of summer holiday kind of memories.

I started thinking how grand life was back in the day when I'd spend a chunk of the summer holidays lying on my futon (I had to share a room with my brother because my Nanny came to stay and slept in my room) reading piles of books and shovelling Mint Slice and TimTams into my face. And then I got to wondering if anybody else remembers playing in the hay at Uncle Willy's Christmas parties, and how the tractor ride from the car was one of life's biggest thrills back then. Did anyone else do Kumon? Can anyone else remember when chocolate came wrapped in foil, and the Cadbury wrapper was just a paper sheath around it?

Random I know. Hey, I never said I was normal...

Happy Friday!

Apologies for the gloom and doom post yesterday, but somehow I always feel better after having a little tantrum over here.

Feeling a lot more positive today. In fact...

Reasons why today is better than yesterday

1. It's Friday.
2. I machined through work yesterday afternoon and have officially completed a lot of the projects that have been stressing me out.
3. My ghd is fixed! And I also now have a ghd guy. As Paige Nick knows, everyone needs a guy for just about everything, and I'm slowly adding to my wonderful collection.
4. Went to the St Yves relaunch party last night with Le Boyfriend. Besides the lovely goodie bag, sitting sipping (free) mojitos watching the sun set over Camps Bay has made me very optimistic about the coming summer (even if it is still cold and cloudy and threatening to drizzle here in Cape Town).

Bah humbug

I should be excited right? It's Thursday (nearly Friday!), I finished off a big project yesterday that's been stressing me out for a while, and Le Boyfriend and I are going to a cocktail-fuelled launch party in Camps Bay tonight.

Lots of reasons to be chirpy this morning.

But I'm not.

Bleh. Here's why:

1. I woke up exhausted for some reason. Not cool.
2. I woke up 0.5 kg heavier than yesterday. Not cool either.
3. It's cloudy and cool again in Cape Town this morning. Huh? Yesterday was summer. What gives?
4. My ghd gave up the ghost last Friday, and the Cloud Nine one I'm borrowing from mum just doesn't seem to cut it. I hate having poofy hair. Not cool.
5. One project down, a million more to go before December. I wonder if I'll have the energy.
6. For some misguided reason I decided to wear jeans today. As overjoyed as I was a few weeks ago to finally find my perfect pair of Slight Curve Skinny Leg Levi's (so overjoyed, in fact, that I bought two pairs on the spot), I suspect I may be over them. This tiny waist only really feels comfortable when one is standing up. Hunched over my keyboard, as I am most days, I feel ... restrained. The button is making friends with belly ring in an uncomfortable way, and all my disgusting fat rolls I can ignore when wearing dresses/leggings/shorts are all too obvious.

So yeah. Bleh. Bah humbug. Let's get this day over with...

My four-day weekend: a brief summary

Coldplay was amazing. Sorry, you had to be there. Or though maybe it's better you weren't, as I cried my way right through The Scientist.

Being on leave is not as relaxing as all that when there's lots of admin and running around to do.

Rocking the Daisies 2011 was another 72 hours of awesomeness, despite losing my car keys (sense of humour failure) and OD'ing on allergy meds. When nobody looks at you funny for breaking out the gin and tonic at 10 am, you know you're having a good weekend.

Okay that's it for now. Need to catch up on everything I missed while I was taking a technology holiday for four days...

Sometimes a girl needs nothing more than a goodie bag to make her happy again – even if it belongs to someone else.

When gorgeous design meets beautiful branding...

My boss just arrived with hers from the Shelley & Harry launch party last night, filled with Lindt chocolate and other goodies, including one or two pieces she picked up for herself.

Shelley & Harry makes jaw-droppingly beautiful jewellery. The name comes from the designer, Shelley, and the love of her life, her sausage dog Harry.

I'm going to pause so you can savour the cuteness

Last night Shelley launched her Goddess range of jewellery, but it's the Coco pearl ring I'm lusting after.

Too pretty

Well that, and this pretty ship's wheel pendant thingy that I can't find a picture of.

Wow. Shiny things really do make girls happy.

Sick? Again? Seriously?

Universe, could you please cut me a break? I've got some seriously delicious (literally and figuratively) weekend plans, and I'd rather not have to cancel them and lie around in bed for another couple of days.

And what gives? I used to be among the healthiest people I know. Never so much as a sniffle, and now I've been full-blown ill three times this year already? What's happening?

I suppose, when I felt my throat start to get scratchy yesterday morning, I should have opted not to choose that particular afternoon to get back to swimming training.

Sniff.

Cough.

Splutter splutter.

Okay I'm over this...

Love this image

The ever-lovely Audrey

Somehow, this picture makes me want to be a better person.

Stolen from this lovely blog.

The weekend in numbers

Number of sunny days: 3. Warmer weather seems to be finally making its way down to Cape Town. Hello summer!

Number of gorgeous handbags accidentally bought on Saturday morning: 2. Went to Gardens Centre to have my car washed (yes, yes, I'm lazy) and STRICTLY not to shop, but then Accesorize was just too tempting. Besides, when I get round to posting pics, you'll know you would've done the same.

Number of pirrrrate parties attended on Saturday night: 1. Le Boyfriend's company's end of year function (bit early, isn't it?).

Number of G&Ts consumed at said function: many

Number of shooters: see above 

Number of people who threw name: just about everyone. There were men dressed as mermaids, a couple as SpongeBob and his starfish friend (with the mandatory accompanying starfish jokes), a scarily convincing Jack Sparrow and various other dirty seafaring sorts. There was much drinking of drinks and much cutting of rugs and pulling of shapes. There was an epic group Freddie Mercury number on the dance floor, and someone will forever be remembered as categorically NOT having the moves like Jagger, whatever he may assert. Oh and I did my first langarm, just for kicks, though Boyfriend says he's never seen me so excited (shame, and it was with another man). In short, it was wonderful. But possibly the best thing about this particular group of people, is that you know you were never as terrible as the next person. It's a comfort, in times of severe gin consumption.

Number of hangovers: 1. Large one. Although waking up to the sight of waves crashing below our little cabin on the west coast, and a buffet breakfast to salivate over, pretty much sorted everyone out. 

Number of Sunday afternoon naps: 1. It's official: I love nap.

I'm back, baby!

Happy
I'm feeling almost 100% healthy again.
Sad face
I spent the past four days lashing around in bed feeling like I was going to die. I've never had real flu before, and man did it give me sense of humour failure. For someone who doesn't even really suffer from the common cold, this was agony. At one point, I thought I needed to be rushed to the medi clinic, and got all teary-eyed thinking how sad it would be to say my final goodbyes to my family and Le Boyfriend (I had a whole House type scene going on in my head. It was really dramatic. I was all brave, saying things like 'I'm not afraid' in my croaky, near-death voice as the world wept at my tragic loss).

Happy
Sleeping for fours days means it's already nearly the weekend baby!
Sad face
Um, there isn't one here.

Happy
Managed to lose 1.5 kg from all the svitshing and lack of appetite.
Sad face
Have put 0.5 back since regaining my appetite.

Happy
Le Boyfriend arrived home from Joburg (okay, fine, Witbank) last night.
Sad face
Circumstances have conspired so that we don't actually have plans together until Saturday night, his company's end of year function dress-up party. Which also means I have to find a costume. Theme, you ask? The perfectly absurd 'Pirates, mermaids and a touch of lumo'. So ... SpongBob SquarePants? Disco Jack Sparrow? I'm stumped here.

Happy
Before I fell down with the flu, I baked a cheesecake which turned out bloody perfect, so I'm quite chuffed. I mean, my first attempt, and it turns out I'm Ni-friggin-gella (wow that sounded awfully common didn't it?).Oh yeah.
Sad face
It cost me about R130 in cream cheese and other ingredients to make the damn thing, and then I couldn't face the thought of eating it while I was sick.

I'm deeply unimpressed with this weather

Someone should tell Cape Town that it's supposed to be spring. Despite valiant efforts by The Little Pink Umbrella That Could, I'm soaked from my socks to my Blair-esque headband.

Deeply, deeply unimpressed...

Sex and the (atro)City or How one of my favourite shows of all time has been ruined

SATC: The early years

Front-running

SATC: The later seasons

Fabulous

SATC: The first movie

A lot of fun

SATC: The second movie

Farce

SATC: The next movie, The Carrie Diaries, starring an assortment of teen queens as the Fab Four

Fucking ridiculous

Shock to the system

I've always considered myself a lover of words, an avid devourer or all things literary and linguistic.

Yeah, suddenly, not feeling all that much of a proper word nerd.

There s very nifty little test out there that some clever people doing research into average vocabularies have set up. It's quick and simple, and you can take it over here.

So I'm happily clicking along – 'Yes, I know what that means, yes, that one too' – and then out of nowhere somewhere on the second page they hit you with the a few columns of words I'd never even seen, let alone knew a definition for ('Fuliginous' anyone? 'Sparge'? 'Braggadocio'? 'Terpsichorean'? Yeah, I thought so).

I hate feeling inadequate. Anyway, here's what they told me in the end, which looked all exciting and impressive at first but apparently actually places me nice and firmly on the 'average' pile. Oh well.

Although, you just know I'm going to spend the greater part of this afternoon looking up all the words I didn't know, so perhaps I'm a bonafide word nerd after all.

I have a secret

Don't tell anyone but...

...I'm wearing mismatched socks.