Sequence of unrelated events? I don't think so.

The story starts about 3 weeks ago just before paddlers hit our local river in the annual and much hyped "Duzi Canoe Marathon" here in Pietermaritzburg, SA, Africa, Earth. You see, we have a most unwelcome E.Coli bacterium lurking in the river, made worse with recent heavy rains. Upstream, the sewerage systems or lack thereof pushes faeces into the river and so the levels of the bacteria, which induce "Duzi Gut" aka bad gastro and who knows what else, had skyrocketed to total unacceptability. Canoe authorities where considering moving the race downstream to more diluted pastures, but local water authorities apparently kept close watch on the levels and announced they think the levels had subsided due to the few sunny days (the bacteria is killed off by sunshine). Two days prior to the race, we yet again had heavy rains and I decided to take a drive to the start of the race at Camps Drift with my camera. I took a few pictures which News24.com sported on the front page, where I doubted that E.Coli levels were really down as the smell and even visible rubbish clinging to the trees made me re-affirm my vow of never setting toe in this river. Ever. On that day, I had those them Croco shoes on that are taking the world by storm and as I stepped close to the river for better pictures, they and my feet got quite muddy. Eeek. So disgusted was I with this that I put the Crocos (cheap fake version, sorry) in the washing machine along with a bright red overnight bag made in Peru. The end result was that not only did my white Crocos come out pink (that overnight bag really did quite a bit of dyeing), they had also SHRUNK!!! beyond salvation. I recon they're now a size 5 and I'm a size 7. Maybe Ma will want them, although she probably won't think they're decent dress code for an 85-year old. Maybe. Anyway, so that was what I got for my troubles.

The start of the race was not moved and authorities claimed levels were save and acceptable. Now, two weeks after the race, the papers are full of reports that more than 50% of paddlers DID get Duzi Guts and related illnesses and the Canoe authorities are so incensed that they are threatening to pull the plug on the race unless the levels drop. It makes me wonder VERY much how dare the water authorities take it upon themselves to declare the river fit for the race when they must have known full well that it wasn't, at the cost of the paddlers health????

But now I'm also wondering about something else: I was sick as a dog this weekend, I was nauseous, had a headache and a stiff neck. For 3 days I was woman down, sleeping 80% of the time and eating almost nothing. I was worried that it could have been meningitis, but my GP isn't open on weekends anymore and I was damned if I was going to brave the emergency unit at Mediclinic. By Monday I was fine again. Luckily. Here's the crux: I had a sore on my toe while I took the pictures at the Duzi and it just wouldn't heal. I wonder if this virus could be something I picked up there? I'm a computer geek, not a medic, but I am wondering since I've no idea how else I got sick.

Kiddie Kennel

So today we tried to tell our increasingly cheeky four year old that if he doesn't behave we will call up kiddie kennels and they will come and pick him up.

Big mistake! After half an hour of trying to make it sound like a bad place without adding too much details (and thus giving away the fact that there is no such place as kiddie kennels ((why not, btw??))), we ended up telling him that his aunt (husband's younger sister) knows all about it as she had been there long ago, and sprog should ask her. This was as a last resort as he thought the idea quite quaint and was almost ready to pack his bags, as long as we could tell him more, MORE, MORE! Needless to say that our little ruse backfired as all we poor harrassed parents really wanted was ten minutes of peace. Ninny, his aunt, did not really have to uphold her end of the deal as suddenly the interest waned. NOT FAIR!!!!

Anyway, I mother, hereby declare that I broke my son's Christmas present this morning. Last seen alive in the picture above, the yellow watergun is now broken. I obviously was not meant to shoot a fountain THAT high and the weak interior pipe bust and, redfaced, I had to apologise to my son. I told him that normally this is what HE should be telling ME while I cultivate a reprimanding face. Luckily my apology was accepted without too much grovelling. Luckily he was given two waterguns, but I have now been banned from "playing" with that one.

So anyway, in the picture above, you will notice that we are all a bit nutty, as the water courses goes straight up Callum's nose and it is a self-inflicted nasal drainage caught on camera. I sent it off to the local newspaper who promise R100 for the best photo of the week, a voucher I will use to take sprog and hubby out for dinner, should the "nosejob" win. Oh, by the way, Callum is not, as he may appear in the photo, a mono brow, he (and the rest of the nutty family) was sporting traditional boxing day face paint. A present from his other aunt. She paid for that one with a huge red blob on her immaculate carpet, hehehe.

More nutty news soon.

Greener wrappings please

Is it just me or do you also find yourself despising all the wrappings and trappings consumers have to rip/tear/cut/snap/peel through before getting to the product purchased? I can't stand wrappings, even from a just personal point of view. I don't have sharp fingernails you see, never have, and probably never will so from when I was a wee nipper I have never been able to get into sweets, ice lollies and new toys and have ended up (impatient as I am) tearing my way into what's MINE like a maniac. Scissors are never at hand at these frenzied points.

Today I bought a couple of cheap stocking fillers for my son and decided that I’m going to save him from my pet hate, so I took all the wrappings off of his pressies before, hear ye and seek the irony, rewrapping them in Christmas wrapping paper. When I was done I had to snigger at myself as I had probably succeeded in rewrapping the presents just as inaccessibly as they had been initially, only difference being the transparency levels.

But seriously, what with all the focus suddenly on (I say suddenly because even as recently as last year this time no one had more than vaguely heard of) greening ourselves to save our world from ourselves, I moot that we start with simple things like petitioning producers to rethink packaging. Let’s take wrapping paper for example. The wrapping paper I used today was plastic, but surely a bio degradable paper substitute should be made available and in fact replace the plastic version for the same price? As the purpose of wrapping paper is to hide the content beneath some simple pattern, recycled paper, even thrice recycled paper would be ideal. Am I being stoopid or is maybe too simple an idea to take the market by storm?

When I did my overseas-stint after studying, Germany was just introducing the green dot (a Quality assured mark that the packaging was bio degradable) and everybody lovingly rinsed out their yogurt tubs before disposing of them in a special container, separate from organic, clear and coloured glass. I don’t think the whole system was totally fool proof, but considering that this was back in 1992, I think it was pretty impressive. More impressive at least than my ability to follow the complex system of “Entsorgen”, which was a new fancy environmentally correct word for “throw away”. Hey, I think I just came up with a new term soon to be used by all non-lisping South Africans who have such ample practice with “politically correct” : “environmentally correct”.

I wrap my case for today, erh, rest my case.

Blerry Hadeda's

The Taj Mahal (aka Christmas tree with hanging/draping tinsel and glitter balls) is up in our lounge. My word, it sure does light up the lounge and cramp my style. The sprog has been informed that the sickly sweet Christmas tunes that come as *added* feature on the lights may only wail on for five minutes a day, lest mom goes moggy.

This morning while I was writing my bi monthly geek article http://witnessgeek.blogspot.com/ , I got seriously put out by Maritzburg's cheekiest Hadeda. Not a meter away from my chair, just on the porch where Shaggy (feline member of the family) has his feeding grounds, the trespass quare clausum fregit Hadeda helped himself to Shaggy's leftovers. The distrinctive pick-pick-pick gives him away (as a non cat intruder) so I thought I would give him a good lesson. I snuck out the door and with a starjump and a big WHOOOP I not only sent the Hadeda over to the neighbours at an almost horizonal angle, I also proceeded to give Shaggy such a fright that the literally fell off his perch on top of the outside table.

I blame Ma (gran in granny flat) for these misbehaving Hadedas as she has spent many hours feeding them dog cubes and enticing them to poo poo on the porch amongst other despicable Hadeda businesses (i.e. unwanted 4am wakeup services). Just in case you are going to send the SPCA around: are there any cat/Hadeda food donours out there who don't mind feeding the entire neighbourhood?

In that event I rest my case and will double Shaggy's rations.

The Taj Mahal

Day of Decor uppance

For the first time in days (my waterlogged brain can't actually remember how long), the sun's out. Oops, its in, no its out again. Valiantly trying to dry up the clouds that have made a permanent home over Pietermaritzburg, the sun will probably loose the battle in about an hours time and we'll be back to more rain. You'd never suspect we live in *sunny* (insert dripping sarcasm here) South Africa. The 70-year-old plumber that had to clear our drain a few weeks ago ruminated that every decade on the 7th year it floods. Memorably 1987. And it's 2007, so yipee, Dusi, here it comes.
Anyway, today is the day that the Arbuckles traditionally put up the Christmas tree, decor, and, oh yes, my husbands personal favourite, the Christmas lights. Weehooo, he goes absolutely moggy, I think I'll get the cattleprod ready.

Right now, however, Colin (hubby) is putting up his elecronic drum kit as he's feeling inspired listening to Anika's first album. Callum (4 year old sprog who loves to just stay at home - hu? - yeah!), is chasing Shaggy (neutered ginger cat who usually follows me around like a dog) through the house and checking on Ma (his 85 year old Great gran who lives in the granny flat attached to our house). Ma does not usually feeling great in the mornings due to her chemo therapy. When she's in top form however, we have a laugh a minute as she confesses to almost throwing her dentures out with the rubbish or putting two CD's on top of each other in the CD player and wondering why the music is so similar.

Watch this space, it could get interesting around here.