Tuesday, 29 April 2008
I am forced to reminisce about the times that I had to go to the Doctor… now, our doctor was an interesting creature, he came from the Netherlands and never spoke louder than a whisper. He always had freezing cold hands and firmly believed that patients had to wear those thin smock things where your butt sticks out the back. Even for a simple throat check! He was really sweet, I got away with taking home a furry bug toy thing or a sweet each visit till I was 18
When I was twenty he moved back home to the Netherlands and I was forced to make use of a number of Doctors… one Doctor Barkley* (He looked like Colonel Saunders) felt the need to explain to me the inner workings of the sinus passages speaking as if he was battling to be heard over a Jet Engine, despite me telling him that I was there simply to renew a script for a sore back. Another, Doctor Govender* (He looked like Rajesh Kumar) gave me about six doses of antibiotics and injections and blood tests before he realised that I just needed antihistamines... yet another, Doctor Trent* (AKA Cyborg) saw me for exactly one minute to tell me that my blood tests were ok and then charged me R180 for a consultation… needless to say, I miss Doctor Anderson!
When I was about 11, my best friend at the time Elizabeth Parker and I were running up the tarmac at Chelsea by the pool and we fell. I am a big girl now but back then I was fondly named “Skinny malinki long legs” by chanting prepubescent boys because I was wafer thin and small… any way, I fell first. It was quite like a choreographed contemporary dance number actually, I landed on my chest and thought in an instant “I’m ok!!” that was until Elizabeth tripped on me and fell onto my head… we skidded for a little bit with her full weight on my head and my poor chin taking all of the weight and giving me a nice rip and tear for my trouble.
I ended up in the ‘sick room’ (remember those?) and had Mrs Watkins holding tissues to my face while my chin spurted blood (so cool!!) I was high on the thrill of having someone ride on my face across tarmac, so I was real chatty. When I get scared or I have to have an Op or whatever, I get funny, I crack jokes (I think if the people around me are laughing then I’m definitely not dying…) so Mrs Watkins ended up laughing, whew.
I landed at Dr Andersons, with my mother in hysterics and me cracking jokes and being a dumbass (I’ll admit it) 3 stitches later I was at home, on the couch with ice cream. Way to go.
Did anyone else go to Doc Anderson? His rooms were in Northway. Does anyone still have any of those tiny furry germ toys?
Well, I hope to be feeling better by next weeks post. I’m calling the chemist to drop off antihistamines and a chocolate!
*Names changed to protect identity…pthhh!!
We run through the turnstiles knowing that mom and Dad will pay up so we don’t get thrown out, we fling our towels onto an open patch of soft green grass and run across the stoned paving and jump in. The water is always colder than we thought it would be, the diving board is higher, the deep end is deeper, the chlorine is stronger.
If we are lucky friends will come and go and the day will end when the water is just too cold and our feet are too wrinkled and mom is too burnt. Sometimes there is a stall there and we can get cotton candy or those marshmallows covered in coconut.
We are too scared to use the showers cos the lights never work and there are always big people there, other kids moms.
I remember fragments of memories from the hundreds of days spent there, my sister Tracy is four years younger than me – in all of our Durban North Pooling, there was one problem, one thing that stopped us from having hours of fun…she was scared of the diving boards.
Picture it, lumo spandex costumes, pink and yellow zink on our noses, stick-thin white legs and arms, running around the pool like ‘cool dudes’
I finally reached breaking point, I liked my sister, she’s a funny chick, makes me laugh, but I was having to stay with her in the shallow end while all of my-aged friends jumped, whizzed and splatted off the diving board.
So I got her to jump off the small one (it took hours of coaxing) and then I got her to climb the stairs to the top of the high board. Now, I am an exhibitionist at the best of times, I like a crowd, and so does my sister…. I ended up standing on top of the board calling out to the kids in the pool to come and swim in a semi-circle around the base of the diving board (so that Tracy would jump) they came from all over to cheer her on and get her to finally jump. Some kids promised to help her if she got worried or if she couldn’t swim up – it was such an awesome moment! Well, she jumped. They cheered. We were famous : ) well, for about ten minutes till the big-boned kid from Sunningdale Primary got a nose bleed in the shallow end.
Any memories from the pool? Any secret kisses behind the guards tower? Who was brave enough to use those dark skanky showers? Who had a season pass?
Thanks for your posts, comments and emails – you guys rock!
My mother – bless her cotton socks – was a nervous parent, wanting to protect my sis and I as much as possible. I of course wanted to stay over with friends from the time I was in pre-school but that’s another post… anyway, I turned 11 and my mom FINALLY agreed to let me stay over at a friends place.
Well, I was not at all prepared.
In my rose-tinted carousel music backing-tracked mind I imagined us all eating around a table, laughing and smiling like those adverts of “The ideal woman” from the 50’s… Um. That’s not what happens at Sleepovers.
I arrived at my friends’ house all excited and dressed in my best crotched top and poofy hair ready to eat and SLEEP. By midnight I was a frazzled confused child who had seen too much naked woman on TV and who had eaten WAY too much MSG and sugar loaded cream soda…at about 1am I was ready to throw in the towel, admit that my mom was right and go home to my bed!
The worst part of it was this – it was not just a one night sleep over – it was a two nighter eek! I called my mom on the Saturday and asked to go home (I was pretty much going into shock and the other girls were all mean & crusty eyed, and beside, coming down off the sugar high was hurting my joints) well, I was not prepared for what was going to happen next…
The movie rented for the Saturday night was “Friday 13” – that horror series. Now up till the age of 11 (up till that sleep over in fact) the scariest thing I’d seen on TV was Duke Egthorne in Gummy bears, so nothing prepared me for the blood, guts, chainsaws and nudity of the Friday 13 movie. I must’ve looked like a Nag-aapie sitting there all pale, sugarless and desperate for sleep. Anyway, the worst was still to come.
My Favourite Aunt (only aunt) was going to pick me up – of course as is the law regarding parents and aunts – she arrived and walked into the lounge in the middle of a hot’n’heavy sex scene EEK! I think I actually melted into the couch in horror! I had me some s’plainin to do…
What sleepover memories do you have?
I have another one from the 90’s it involved a group of girls staying in a huge dark house together. Our friends (guys) climbed the side of the house, broke in through the bathroom window and sent one of them jumping into the lounge wearing a black robe, holding a big steak knife and the white mask from “scream” – I hurt myself screaming.
Post them on the wall – c’mon people!
Have an awesome week
I remember my poor mother would go into hiding when she heard that truck drawing close… she’d turn up old RPN Stereo 94/95fm and send us to the bedroom to “tidy-up”… ya. Right. Children have super-powers, that Panado advert lied, WE could hear that thing through a hail storm, underground while coming out of a coma. Radio. Tidy up… Pthh!
We would start screaming in excitement running in circles screaming because there was NEVER R2 in the house…sometimes though, there would be enough for a soft serve and flake…OMG. We’d sit out on the pavement (you could do that then) and lick those ice creams till … till… they were finished.
I also remember the beach front ice creams, what was the name of the restaurant where you could get soft serve with nuts n chocolate etc?
Another Tracy memory (that sister of mine harassed me…oops! She’s on google talk right now) she dropped her ice cream once, when she was about 8 or so, I laughed at her – now you have to learn, younger siblings are like cats, they get you back. I turned to look at something and felt a slight movement, like a gentle tap tap… and my ice cream lay on the beach sand, the mystery here is that my sister was ten metres away. Innocent. Until proven. I never laughed at her again.
Keep well guys,
Have you got any nice ice cream memories??
Thursday, 24 April 2008
I suppose that even a comedic blogger is allowed to write a sad blog at least once right?
I am battling with a sad situation at the moment, I think that a very good friend of mine, no, an excellent, special friend of mine is going through a hard time.
I suppose this, as opposed to knowing it, because I haven't had a decent conversation with her in over two months. I am not really sure what has happened, we were close, we spoke often, laughed often, hugged, smiled, chatted and were silly together. Now I feel like we don't know each other anymore. I want to reach out but there is a wall of glass around her, impenetrable, she is away and her chat light is red, offline, out to lunch permanently.
I hear her speaking and there is a sadness there that I can't help with, a heaviness I can't help to carry, and desolate emptiness that I can't help to fill. She hardly laughs, and when she does the corners of her mouth turn down as if the smile is too heavy for her. Her mischievous nature is sleeping. Her ferocious munchkin-ness is dormant.
I don't know what to do. A short while ago I saw her again, in the middle of a visit she stepped out of her skin, I nearly jumped on her because I recognised her.
I hope that this is a passing faze, that it is just a season, a time in her life.
I hope that it is nothing that I have done.
I really hope that it is nothing that I have done.
It is strange, I miss her like she is out of the country when she just lives up the road from me.
You are still one of my closest friends, someone who I shared so much of my pregnancy with, my fears, thoughts and emotions. You are still important to me, to us. I am still here for you.
Saturday, 19 April 2008
till our power goes off till late tonight.
I have to make sure that the floors are clear so we don't trip and
fall in the dark.
I have to make sure that I have at least one hours worth of battery
power in my laptop and my hubby's laptop so that we can watch a DVD.
I have to cook our potatos.
Defrost our meat for the gas braai.
Boil water so that I can flask it (so we can have coffee after dinner)
My gorgeous Husband has to:
Put oil into all of the new oil lamps so that we can see.
Clean the grill so that we can eat hot food.
Set up the parrafin lamp and bedroom lamp so that we can see.
Not lose the lighter.
We are going to make the most of it I guess. We have bought beautiful
bamboo rods with oil lamps attached for outside while we braai, a
beautiful blue oil lamp for the bedroom and lounge and a good old
fashioned parafin lamp for the kitchen.
I love africa.
Friday, 11 April 2008
Well, in a fit of boredom I decided to look at some big dogs. Yes, I said big dogs. Canine Giganticus Multipo-kakus. Well, let me tell you, I had NO idea that there were dogs THAT big in the world.
Let me get back to the root of my rambling search… my dogs: Skippi and Oscar.
Now last year after 11 months of night time terror (My dog oscar has a couple of issues, look under my pets posts, he cried like a baby all night for the first 11 months of his life. We didn't sleep and it was hell) we finally crumbled, and got Oscar a psychologist. We tried to work things out, although I'm sure I could've blamed his murder on hormones (I was 6 months pregnant) R1200, a spectral urine analysis, antibiotics, psychotic drugs and mental once-over later Oscar was pronounced to be "highly strung, with mother issues, abandonment issues, immaturity and extreme dependency...oh, and a bladder infection"
We bought a DAP dispenser, a strange looking thing that sends out female dog pheromones into the room, to help calm Oscar. Skippi, our previously disadvantaged terrier from Chatsworth, realised that in order to be deemed equal to Oscar she would have to conger up some issues of her own. She suddenly had a loose bowel, extreme nervousness, digging up the garden, ripping up multiple balls of expensive wool, licking the carpet in circles and barking at cats, that aren't there (I think her logic is that the MIGHT be there…) anyway, we seemed to have sorted out the issues all round and so I went on to enjoy the last two months of my pregnancy with no barking etc
My child is three months old, Oscar is 1.5yrs old, Skippi is 2. This week for no observable reason, Oscar decided to develop a new issue.
The dogs have a beautiful wooden dog house on our porch, filled with lovely soft blankets. The other night Oscar sat on my porch and barked, screamed, whined and carried on from 8pm until I finally got up at 3:00am and clobbered him.
I tricked him you see, I opened the lounge door and as he ran in triumphantly I cracked him across the backside. I don't think his paws even touched the carpet as he realised that the lounge was filled with monsters whacking at his ass… he did a 360 and ran back out, into his house, and slept till 9am. I of course was ready to kill all and sundry and lay fuming in my bed until 6am.
This morning I went out onto the porch to make sure that their blankets are all arranged nicely only to find that their blankets are sopping wet. Urine. Oscar. Its an issue that we resolved when he was 6months old and kept defecating in his blankets because he was scared of grass. OMG. I need a cat rather.
My budgies also became annoying and they live in an avery on the other side of town.
…and so, I decided to look at big dogs, mine are tiny, easy to hide the remains, but what if your dog is HUGE.
Enjoy the pictures.