cathjenkin – Page 3 – sea.ess.em.jay

Dinner Time with Mandy Collins

My friend Mandy…what can I say about my friend Mandy? In short, everything. She’s a multi-skilled human with a huge heart. And, for the sake of our communal kitchen sanities, she’s taken some of her culinary skills and combined it with one of her other great talents – she’s written a recipe book, Dinner Time!

It’s not your usual recipe book though, that calls for you to ferret out some sort of exotic ingredient and then skilfully apply them to a gourmet dish that’ll take you ten hours to cook and leave you yelling “I hate cooking! We’re living on takeaway until 2050”. No, Mandy makes it easy for us plebians who just almost make it to the dinner table with some semblance of a meal created in the kitchen.

Lucky for me (and for my family, who are probably still scarred from that time I “got experimental” with rice), Mandy sent me an electronic copy of Dinner Time! to take a look at, and perhaps even try out a few recipes, before it launches on 1 December 2014.

Mandy’s approach is bloody clever. Instead of foisting us into the world of artisan ingredients, everything contained and mentioned in this book is easily available at your local supermarket. And, most importantly, Mandy actually scripts out an entire month of dinner time meals for the reader. See?

This makes it mega-easy for you to plan meals in advance and do your weekly or monthly shopping with a list that makes sense, and means you won’t end up with 67 bunches of random vegetables rotting in the back of your fridge because you thought, while you were shopping, that “maybe you’d have time to make a meal with them”.

So far, I’ve tried two of her recipes – one as a main meal and one as a side dish (although, be warned, the side dish could actually be a meal – yes, it’s that good and no, she didn’t pay me to write this).

First off, I tried her pasta bake recipe, which you’ll find in Week One of her detailed monthly meal plan. Because time is of the essence when it comes to making meals, Mandy also lists with each recipe a hands-on time and full meal prep and cooking times – useful, because sometimes I only get half an hour to make dinner (and sometimes less…you all know how it is!) Aside from using Mandy’s white sauce recipe and chucking in my own mushroom spin on it, with some olives, I stuck to the recipe. And, guess what? My family scored it as a 100/5 on one side and a 4/5 on the other. The 100 being a big score, because we get enthusiastic about food round here. Ridiculously easy to make and scoring highly with the family = winning.

When Mandy was tweeting pictures as they were being taken for the Dinner Time book, she showed off this side item. It’s called “cheerful corn” and, while she lists it as a side item, I’m actually eating leftovers for lunch today. This was the recipe I was most excited to try, because I’ve never really put a spin on corn before…

I had to substitute a few things for it though, as we were out of red peppers and red onions, but that didn’t matter at all. With a little butter, corn, baby marrows and onion, this fantastic little side dish became the star of our dinner plates just last night. It scored an all round 4/5 with the family, who quite like this idea of me getting creative in the kitchen, but with some sort of guideline that prevents them from ending up with charred rice and weird casseroles.

In summary, I feel like these recipes and meal ideas are going to become the kinds of things I’ll hand to my kid one day, when she’s a busy human trying to keep up with the demands of her life. It’s these kinds of recipes that make dinner time memorable, and I know she’ll probably turn to Mandy’s book (as it is now termed in our house) herself one day.

So, there you have it. Dinner Time! makes dinners easy and the meal plans aren’t just adaptable, they’re excellent. It’s published by Clockwork Books and you can pre-order now by emailing info@worktheclock.co.za or buy online via the Clockwork Books website from 01 December 2014. Oh, and price? It’s R180 for the e-book and R300 for the soft cover, printed book.

Let’s make a list.

So, there it is. We’re moving house.

It’s funny, you know. I walked into that house on Thursday and just knew. I’m a functional human being who goes by her gut. It takes a lot for me to be decisive, but I’ve taught myself to be, over the last few years. It’s led to me saving my brain and my own ability to get through life tumbles.

When I walked in, I immediately heard the noise of my family and felt the home beneath my feet. In my typical me-brain-type of way, I had made the decision already. And, as my Dad would’ve told you…when I’ve made up my mind, good luck trying to change it.

As we toyed with this idea of changing things up (and haha, the change conversation actually began as a joke one Thursday night), I felt panic. I like our routines, our life, the way things are but, hey, life changes.

Normally, by now, I’d be a mushy mess on the floor but, instead I’m feeling the panic of it all by making lists and attempting to gravitate towards a structured approach. At some point though, I know I’m just going to yell “SOD IT!”, chuck everything in a bag and get moving. Look, it’ll happen but that day is not today, my friends.

That’s the thing about change, though – you can either accept it, or fight it. No matter what you do though, it’ll happen.

So, this is where that ability to focus and get shit done comes into play. Because, of everything I have been able to learn (and actively forced myself to learn) over the last decade…it is to focus. And no, your machinations over why I focus on what I do will not matter to me. Sorry.

And that’s why. That’s why we stopped worrying about the niggly things that made us furrow our brows but didn’t talk about them. We took them, and we’re changing them. That’s why we could make decisions like we did. It was a small comment, that started an idea and, well…

The idea ends up being something that frightens me and – yes, it does. My normal, old response would be to fight anything that frightens me, Except that responding to that fear is entirely different this time. This time, I respond with lists.

I have now pegged dates throughout the next month of my life, where shit needs to get done. And it will. Don’t you dare try move my focus.

And what is my focus? That’s easy. It’s the idea I had as I looked out at the ocean, and imagined – with my mind’s eye – the Saturday morning I’d spend with my family, as we ate breakfast and laughed at how uncertain we felt about all this change.

Let’s go.

Playlists and Playthings.

It’s funny how Friday nights have become, over the last few years, my very best time of quiet and focus. While it seems the rest of the world either settle in for a movie, or head out to rage until sunrise, this is my time, to think, write and invest fully focused energy into my work.

It is this time of the week that I save up songs for. It’s during this time that I savour the tunes that my friend Dylan spins up and weaves together (you should listen to his sweet mixes…they’re like pages from my own diaries, sometimes).

Aside from that, I have been saving up songs this week, for this time. When I woke up this morning, early, feeling refreshed…I promptly fell back asleep and had a gigantic nightmare about apocalyptic happenings. Fun. But, after the mental madness had subsided once I’d got my eyes open and was walking towards our dearly beloved coffee machine…

A quickfire mental jukebox started playing. These were the songs that popped into my head throughout today. I’m glad I saved them up for tonight’s twilight. They’re little capsules of things that have gone past, and tiny reminders of moments I will never, ever let go of.

I’ve never, ever been a fan of diamonds or gold, because I know that these are mined from the ground in wholly awful situations, by people paid minute salaries…I don’t agree with it, and I probably never will. But, these songs…these songs are some of the jewels of life for me.

This is a pretty slow tempo playlist, but it suits me today. I’m not in a rush this evening.

Because I own this album on cassette. I remember finding it in a store in the 90s, and dancing around excitedly. It was, somehow, portent for someone that would happen in my life. I haven’t listened to this song in years. I’m glad I am today.

And then, well.

By now, you’ve probably heard this. I think Eddie does it justice. It’s a gigantic song, no matter how it’s sung but, Eddie has an incredible way of bringing it to life.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wv9PpUMnuig

Because this is the very best version of this song you will ever hear.

I realise you might roll your eyes at this one but, someone very special to me did something incredible recently and, well, it was this.

Because she did a very, very brave thing.

And, really, so should we all.

Two girls, One Flat, a Lifetime of History #LoveChange

It’s Tuesday and I’m bucking a little trend today, and making this Throwback Tuesday! Why? Because I can, and because this post got me thinking. It got me thinking about the village of colourful characters that make up our life, and that one time in a flat on a hill where two gals had a barrage of great ideas and a litany of funny stories to tell.

I’ve been thinking about Sheena a lot recently, as our friendship and connection has taken on a zillion different mediums over the years. We’ve been through what feels like a million metamorphoses, and yet the easy nature of how she and I talk to each other stays the same. She says it on her blog so well, when she describes me as “Cath – my ex-housemate, soulmate and sharer of womb in another lifetime. We’ve been in each others lives forever, we just didn’t know it”.

Sheena and Cath — Two girls, One flat, A lifetime of history

It always makes some people’s eyebrows shoot up when we tell them that we had never truly met, in person, before deciding that we’d like to be housemates. Hah. Truth is, what started as mutual blog stalking, turned into Facebook messaging, and then I actually think I invited her to live with us via a blog comment, that mentioned lavender and baby powder. But, let’s back up a bit…

Cath and Sheena — I miss this girl like I miss the point sometimes.

My friendship with Sheena started with a simple Facebook message, after we’d “mutually stalked” each other online, thanks to the then-little world of blogging in SA. Back then, there were very few bloggers in South Africa, and we all sort of found each other through the Queen, Tertia. Sheena and I shared our stories with each other, without inhibition, because we both knew that blogging was therapeutic for us. We’d laugh at each other’s chaos and calamities, and commiserate together over our sad moments. We had written a hilarious history book together, full of quips and private references, long before we’d even met.

When I was in my teens, my dad used to tell me how the poetry I’d write and the graffiti I emblazoned on my wardrobe was my “primeval swamp”, because, from there, I’d hone my craft and learn to write. For me, I think the primeval swamp became blogging, and from it, grew not just my career, but my village too. Sheena, for me, has always been – and always will be – the head chief of that village.

Our time living together was peppered with laughter, fighting over how to hang the laundry (yes, really) and, as young adults trying to find their place in the world, we would talk long into the night about our respective hopes for charting our ways through life.

We’d laugh over our fears of being alone for the rest of our lives, and how we’d probably never “settle down”. Sheena taught me not to doubt my inner voice – she reminded me not to let anyone question my parenting, unless they had a damn good reason to. Sheena stuck with me as I faced a horrible time in our life, and she helped me laugh at it, because… “the best thing you can do to get past something that scares you, is poke fun at it”. Sheena was a friend to me at the worst of times, and another mom to my kid when she needed a circle.

Of course, we were never going to live in our little big flat on the hill forever. We’d talked about our dreams and hopes, the futures we would create. And then the time came where we needed to stop talking about them, and start making them.

The rest, as they say, is history. Sheena’s gone on to create the career we always knew she would, and marry the love of her life (turns out, he was actually not just around the corner, but a little bit more inland…). I’ve gone on to be the writer she believed I always would be, even when I did not believe it myself, and to have the family unit I dreamed of, but had sometimes deemed impossible. Sheena would always believe in my dreams for me, when I could not. She still does.

While we live in different places now, and our lives have the hue of the dreams we’d dare each other to dream at 2am, over boxes of tens and laughter… yet, the essence of who we are remains. Life changes came at us and we at them, like cheese on toast. But us? Our village is exactly as it always was, just bigger. Our life in the little big flat on the hill was colourful and sometimes so noisy. But from colour and chaos, has been built a village. Thank you, funny girl on the Internet, for helping me believe in the village.

I’m tagging Sheena to share her story on how life has changed since we lived in that little big flat on the hill. YOU should get involved too, because BrightRock are looking for your #LoveChange story.

Sheena replied to my post here and it’s BEAUTIFUL!

Are you a budding writer? Then #LoveChange and win!

BrightRock loves change and now, they’re looking for your big change story. Share your story about your experiences with one of Life’s biggest Change Moments – whether it’s Landing that Job, Tying the knot, Starting a Family or Making a Home – and you could win R2 000 in cash and the chance to become a regular contributor on BrightRock’s exciting Change Exchange. It’s an asking, learning, sharing, changing space – packed with tips and tools to help people live through, and even love, life’s greatest Change Moments. I love reading each piece as they’re published, because life – even though I hate change haha! – has taught me that Change Moments are what make life move forward!

Here’s how to win:

Submit your #LoveChange story – of no more than 650 words via the “Your Story” tab on the Change Exchange. Feel free to upload a pic to go with it, or include a link to an Instragram pic or YouTube video. You’ll find all the competition rules on the Change Exchange. Get writing folks, because this is a damn good way to kickstart your dream!

A Beautiful Number

At about the age of twelve, I clearly remember thanking my mom for making me “short and squat”, because it relieved me from the pressure of entering beauty pageants. She laughed at me then but, looking back, I am truly glad the mix of her genes and my dad’s created me, just as I am.

As I journeyed through the high school years, I will admit to battling with this. As everyone around me grew taller, thinner and more intent on becoming model-like reflections of the people we’d see in magazines, I just grew hips and bosom. Many people around me dabbled with diet pills, crazy eating plans and, sadly, a dear friend even endured the horror of anorexia. I don’t think she was the only one. I only found out, much later on in life, that my very own mom had anorexia.

With my curvaceous butt and height like a hobbit, I’m never going to grace the cover of Vogue but, what I do have to do – not just for me, but for my daughter – is grace the cover of this life and my parenthood, with self-love.

I realise I have a heightened awareness of this, because I’m petrified that an eating disorder could invade my daughter’s life – it did for my mom! I think there’s also something to be said about the overwhelming need within me, to be okay with what I see in the mirror every day. It’s not just about me anymore – because what parenting has taught me, is that kids will learn everything from you, and it’s not what you’re saying, it’s what you’re doing.

The idea that my own perception of my body directly communicates to my daughter how she sees her own, and nothing brought that home to me more, than the night she asked me to read her the number on the scale that displayed when I stood on it.

I will admit that, the first time, I did the wrong thing. I said: “ooh, I don’t really want to say that out loud” and she, in her cherubic innocence, questioned me, saying “but it’s just a number”. I thought about that moment for the next 24 hours.

When we were in the bathroom the next evening, she hopped onto the scale and proudly yelled out her number. Following her lead, I did the same, even though I felt wobbly and weird about it.

Her response?

“Mom, what a beautiful number”.

There’s a lesson in there, that I want her to know and never forget. Yes, the scale tells us a number that signifies our body’s weight, but that number doesn’t define us – it is just the indicator for the body we’re in. Scales cannot calculate our spirit, worth or capabilities so they can’t and should not control or scare us. They just show us numbers, but the true worth of ourselves cannot be shown on a scale.

This is who I am. And I like it that way.

And, every day that I look in the mirror, worry about the extra layer on my hip or booty on my butt, is one more day that I’m robbing myself of the ability to just love the body I’m in. I won’t let my own mind steal a day from me, and I won’t let any of those days be stolen from my kid. My daughter’s journey of loving herself and the creation of her inner voice starts with me, so I’m saying my number out loud.

And I know that the Dove Self Esteem Project peeps will join me in saying this – lets ditch our negative inner monologue and work on our own self esteem – not just for us, but for our kids too. Check out the Dove Self Esteem Project here for fab resources relating to developing and maintaining a positive self esteem, even when life throws its numbers and obstacles at us!

On Adulthood

Being an adult is hard. You know that whole saying “Don’t grow up, it’s a trap”. Yeah, I am feeling that a little today.

Granted, yes, there are some grand benefits to growing up, and it’s those we see when we’re younger, and can’t wait to get out there, into the world, and command our own ship. I see it in my daughter, and in my friend, C. But, now, looking back, I can completely understand why my Dad wanted me to keep studying and not be so hellbent on leaving home early. Hehe.

Anyway, I digress. I have thought about my adulthood a lot today. Mostly because life has forced me to spend a lot of this part of the cycle of my life, saying goodbye to things. Farewells have punctuated my evolution as an adult, even when I didn’t want to be an adult anyway. Whether they’ve been things that are good for me, bad for me, kinda okay, or not, it doesn’t matter. The sting has always lain in the farewell.

Because goodbyes are hard work. They take a toll on you, and once they’re done you do feel a loss, even if it’s an unexpected reaction.

In my adulthood, I’ve had to say farewell to both my parents. I’ve had to say goodbye to people who I thought I could not operate a life without. I’ve had to say goodbye to my own naivetè. Sometimes I miss that part of myself but, adulthood forces you to be pragmatic.

But there is a wonder in the farewells, that exists far beyond the goodbyes. If there’s one thing that the word “farewell” has taught me, it’s that there is just a new beginning beyond it. Each of the farewells I’ve had in my adulthood have been directly tied to a new beginning. With the death of my dad, came the birth of my daughter, and with the death of my mom, came the start of my life as a family trio, with Shmooshy and my kid. Both of those things left an indelible mark on me, but they are significant of a cycle.

As hard as it is to say goodbye, it can be even more unsettling to say hello to something.

So, today, as I bid farewell to something that’s been part of my adulthood since I appeared in the doorway, wearing pink lipstick and a power suit, I am determinedly looking back with a smile. It has been a weird and winding road, but one that has supported and loved me towards this moment, even when I did not want to support or love it back. It has been difficult, and it has been kind. It has been the thing I have quietly relied on, and it has quietly relied on me. I am so grateful for the experience. It was the thing that let me learn, and then set me loose towards my own dreams. My nickname, for many years, in this situation, was Twinkle (for many reasons I cherish).

As for adulthood, there’s a wonder in the farewell and a twinkle in the greeting. Let’s go find that twinkle.

Adages and Inadequacies

I know, I know. You know that old adage…

“The shoemaker’s children are never shod”.

It’s true. As the world has swirled up and I write more and more for everywhere else (which is what we all wanted, anyway! so thank the stars for that!), so this blog of mine – the very thing I love and from which this all, originally started…has been neglected. I’m not here to make some wild promise that I’ll blog to make up for it, or here to delete the whole thing and pretend it never happened. Neither would make me happy.

So, I’ll beat myself up a little more and quip that, in September 2008, I blogged 22 times and, well, at that time, we were going through some pretty horrific stuff and I actually stopped blogging for a bit. Comparatively, this September? This is my second blogpost for this month.

Okay, okay, I’m done whining. So I’ll do this. I’ll make you a lovely playlist, and I’ll bore you with something I found. You ready? Good. Let’s do this.

The Playlist. Here’s a list of songs that are keeping me company this evening:

I have absolutely no idea why I like this song but, there it is:

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M491t7LaRiA]

This song sounds like it should’ve been playing in the background of my life in 2007. It reminds me so much of one of my favourite movies, that absolutely nobody likes to watch with me. Hah.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5YXVMCHG-Nk]

This song is almost perfect. The only issue I have with it is that – well – the live version is better than any other version in existence.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m9whEf5fRj4]

This is another song that sounds better live than it does on an album. Frankly, the album version is an embarrassment in comparison to this version.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MzbvUufPe-M]

Maybe that’s the point.

Maybe, as I’ve illustrated in the songs above, life’s better when it’s up close and messy, lived out loud.

I was chatting to a friend of mine this week, about loud emotions and responses to life’s tricksy situations. It was at the end of a day that had left me feeling frayed and gulping. But just talking to him about bigger life things, large concepts (that day had a little *too* much reality in it for me…) helped. It gave me perspective and, truth? When I’m gulping at the end of a day, I do need perspective.

The crazy, intimidating nature of messy, loud life emotions can make us want to cower and run away. But, if we do, we’ll just be stuck listening to those bland, album cut versions of the songs we kinda don’t like that way. I don’t think I was made for the clean cut hum of album tracks. Neither were you, my friend.

And then, that part from the past I promised you.

4633347114_f0765f8dc8_z — Source: Flickr (click on image for original)

I was cleaning up my bookmarks the other day and, I found a bunch of things I published somewhere and then forgot about. This one is six years old. Forgive me, I was going through an “e.e. cummings” phase.

your hair smells like oranges this evening.
you put your little arms around me and say
“i love you mommy. i sorry i cried when you say no”

i look at you and kiss your head
we cuddle up on the couch
and watch the most annoying dvd of all time
(kidsongs. parents, just do not buy them. please)

you love it.
the singularly-expressioned children
fascinate you
with their silly songs
and little antics

i don’t care that it is giving me a headache.
this uncomfortable position does not bother me.
and you could not care that i have not showered yet.

not a single thing matters
not the bills on the table
the wolves at the door
not the deadlines
or the screaming phone calls

not what i did or did not
not how i looked or not
not the smile or the grimace
not a single achievement or failure.

everything in the world that matters
is snuggled under my chin
smelling
just
like
oranges.

*csmj – 2008*

Hello at Hello Square.

The lovely Karla of Hello Square mailed me the other day, with a fun opportunity. So, because I am rather fond of those, I jumped!

The opportunity? Spend the day in their rad space, hang out, eat and abuse their WiFi. So, here I am, doing just that. I arrived this morning after an *interesting* altercation with someone and walked in, flopped down and have been sitting here enjoying this space since.

So, what am I talking about? I’ll let the pictures do the talking…

20140903_085206 — View from the roof at 39 Station Drive.

20140903_090627 — Durban…looking pretty today!

Hello Square is a Durban-proud web design and development agency, who I’ve taken an interest in for a while now (Yes, Wayne, I do mean it when I say I have read about you! Haha). They moved to their current offices earlier this year and have made it very much a homely, airy space. As part of the Station Drive Precinct, Hello Square joins a bunch of Durban’s best and brightest creative talents, in an effort to imbue a sense of renewal into this area. I love the energy and ambience of this creative district, because it’s honest, gritty and pretty, all at the same time. Sitting here, with the gentle buzz of traffic and the sweet sounds of Oui in my ears, it’s a damn nice day to be a Durbanite.

Thanks for having me, Hello Square!

The Spring Jump

Spring always brings with this funny, lovely sense of renewal, like we shed winter’s baggage and move on to new things. It sounds trite but it’s true, for me, at least.

***

Spring day will mark two years since I took the leap and became a freelance writer.

I’ve decided not to spend this post looking back over the past two years, because a lot has gone down. Some of it incredible, some of it scary and, well, most of it left me with a sense of gratitude. For that, and through that, I know I have learnt.

I have had to, out of necessity, withdraw into a little cocoon a lot, over the last two years, in an effort to *just get things done*. There were some people who made me feel bad about this but, they don’t matter to me or my life anymore. It’s been a two-year period of learning to focus, and sticking to that focus. The ability to focus on one thing at a time seemed like a mystery to me for so long. But, I have learnt focus, and I have become very aware that I should not apologise for it.

When I made this jump, it was done with the full support of the people who matter – one of them, in particular, made damn sure I followed through on it – I don’t think I can ever repay her for that. Another person, my absolute confidante and life partner (what a term…he deserves a better term…) consistently believes on the days I cannot.

But, I did not just make this jump for me, or because of something my parents said to me before they died (they both did, and thinking of it now, I should’ve listened sooner). I did it for someone else entirely, too.

About twelve hair colours ago (which would make it about six or seven years ago), I was conversing with a then-colleague, who remarked:

“You know, now that you’re beyond the survival mode of nappies and wiping butts, you have a girl to teach. And you can’t teach her by dictating to her. If you want her to grow up thinking she can follow her dreams, you have to show her”.

I came away from that conversation, petrified. You can read every parenting book, buy every expensive toy, have your child on a routine and provide them with sensory learning experiences until they are blue in the face…and you’ve still not even begun parenting.

That conversation shocked me and scared me for a long, long time. In fact, it probably made me even more scared of even, ever trying to “be a writer”. Suddenly I had been made aware that, no matter what I did from there onwards, I was not just doing it for me, but it would be the example my daughter would lean on for the rest of her life.

That sense of responsibility sat in my brain for a long time. Suddenly (and yes, I realise I was slow to this game…), I began to understand that all the things I did were not only being watched, but truly assimilated into someone else. This, therefore, gave me an influence I had not expected or thought about at 2am, when I was way more concerned with trying to figure out how to rebundle a sick kid into bed and avoid sleeping in vomit.

But, there it was.

About a year after that conversation, my life uncobbled. It untangled and laid bare a mess I had not wanted to confront. I was completely at a loss, because I’d kinda bet on something, and it didn’t work out. Even worse, was realising that to untangle myself from being driven into some weird and dark life place, I had to use my own mental strength to get out of it. I was scared.

And it was at that exact moment that I got my very first opportunity to write professionally. I read that now, and I want to cringe, because I know just how much life has happened SINCE then…yet, at the time, I thought life was entirely derailed.

But. That moment was the spark that led me towards believing I could do this. I’ve had such incredible opportunities come my way, since then. I have worked with (and still do!) some of the planet’s most fantastic citizens. It was that spark that started my path towards here.

I had no confidence when I began. Everything that came to me, at that time, seemed like it was a favour. I know now that it wasn’t. It was just someone else believing in me, before I could. I am so grateful for their belief in me.

Every single goal since then (bar one…that was minor, happened this year and really should not have affected me as I let it, silly Cath) that I have set up for myself, I have been given the opportunity to achieve. No, I haven’t achieved all of them but, that doesn’t matter to me, because every single time…I’ve learnt. None of them came easily to me, and I know that, throughout my days. It makes me prouder of them, and the mistakes I have made along the way. And, oh boy, have I made some clanger errors.

So, come Spring Day, I’ll be thinking of the new sunshine, marching my kid off to school in her Spring Hat and, well, I’ll be happy. I have new dreams, and new goals I’d like to achieve. I have new projects and fun things to investigate.

But, most importantly, it’s the look on my kid’s face when I can say to her :

“Remember when I said, I’d like to do this…”

and she goes

“Yes”

and I get to say:

“Cool, you can read it now”.

The smile that she gets on her face, as she realises I’ve done something I had told her I wanted to…the idea that is planted in her head that “my mom had a goal, and she achieved it”…That is why I do this.

I write for money, professionally, and I love it. It is the one thing that gives me a sense of purpose and enables me to feel that I can use my talent for good.

But, the thing that makes me breathe, and gets me up every day… is knowing that I’m showing a notsolittle girl that, no matter what life throws at you…you can achieve the things you want to, if you are prepared to work for them. Throw in a big bucket of good friends, a supportive family and ditch the fear of being rejected (you probably will be, quite a few times)

and…you can do just about anything you set your heart on

(and sometimes, if you’re really lucky and work really hard, you’ll get to do the things you didn’t ever expect to).

Delene and Seven weeks.

I was sitting here trying to think about something to write for today, when Delene happened on Friday morning. Delene’s actually been happening in my life for far longer than just then, really.

10413382_10154190538005623_3224390773439489645_n — This is Delene. She is a survivor. She is also my friend.

Meet Delene. We’ve never met but, thanks to the sparkliness of Twitter, Facebook and the like, I know her. I know her well, and she knows me well. This isn’t a random blogpost about my friend though,

Last year, Delene was diagnosed with breast cancer. It was a shock. A big one. She is a healthy, active person. Beyond healthy and active, in fact. She cycles to raise money for CHOC and is a dedicated human. Nothing phases her for too long.

Not long after she was diagnosed with breast cancer, she lost her sister. To what? A melanoma on the brain. Yes, really, life can be this much of an asshole to one family. Delene bravely shared her story of losing her sister, whilst undergoing treatment for cancer herself. She still does. I have absolutely no clue how she handles life. Delene asked me to edit her eulogy for her sister, and then later on, a speech she had prepared for a cancer fundraising breakfast. Delene’s words washed over me like a lake on fire…I battled to edit her, because, even though both pieces were so incredible, they were so damn hard to read. But this girl, this girl does not give up. She does not end.

Earlier this year, when I was confronted with a very real and very anxiety-creating health scare, it was Delene I told. She was my rock, because I (in my typical way) did not want to worry the people closest to me. Sometimes it’s easier to vent into someone far away from you, because they can retain objectivity. Delene was there for me, when I was frightened out of my mind.

A while ago, she finished chemotherapy, had her required surgery and has started radiation. She has started cycling again and is even currently toying with the idea of running Comrades. Like I said, this is the girl who does not end. She does not give up.

That’s where I come in. If you know me, you’ll know that I live for bathtime. Heck, I think I do half my parenting in there. There is almost no better way for me to unwind after a long day, than with a gigantic bunch of bubbles and laughing with my kid. It is the ultimate way for me to just let go of a day.

Here’s the thing though. Delene loves her baths too. But, during her surgery recovery and now that she’s undergoing radiation, she cannot bath. It’s been like this for…I actually don’t know how long it’s been. This is – hopefully – one of the last hurdles she has to overcome before she can fully return to leading the life she was.

Then she posted this on Facebook on Friday morning…

SEVEN WEEKS UNTIL SHE CAN HAVE A BATH? Just thinking about it fills me with dread, and she’s been going on without the sweetness of bubbles for longer already.

So, as from today, I’m joining Delene. I have not been able to be with her, as she’s gone through all this tumult because, well, geography (she lives in JHB, I live here).

I am giving up my daily bubble bath until Delene can have one, until 03 October. Seven weeks to go. Delene, you’re incredible. Let’s do this together.