Tag: birthday

77. It’s your birthday.

Dear Dadadadad,

It’s your birthday. To celebrate, I talk to you. Happy Birthday. You would be seventy-seven today. Seventy-seven?!?!

Seventy-seven. I’m sure you’d snort at the notion and say something akin to “it doesn’t really matter how many I’ve clocked up, I still feel thirty-seven”.

This is the fifth year I cannot phone you and sing badly down the ‘phone, or email you a silly rhyme. Instead, I write you a letter and who knows if you read it. It’s the writing it that’s the most healing. You taught me that. Thank you for that.

I got the chance to tell Mom most of this on a pink-sunsetting afternoon, with The Three Little Pigs being read, and Cameron snuggled up in bed with her.

I wonder often, where you’d stop me and tell me to ‘cool my jets’. Heh. Like I was a rocket, roaring to lift off. Actually, now that I think about, you were right about the rocket analogy. I ponder sometimes how you would react to my enthusiastic re-tellings about life now, and at which points you’d say “go for it” and at which ones you’d say “consider it properly first”.

On Love.

I guess it’s the minute care in every detail. The active interest in the things that mean everything to me. The way I do not feel alone. The not-having-to-plead-to-be-myself-or-do-what-I-feel-is-right. The myriad of things that I am so blessed with now. The absolute gratitude I have for this. For it’s every single moment. The way I get to wake up and I know I am loved. The loved that you wanted for me and Cameron. The one you told me about when I did not know it existed. The one where you said I would “just know”, and my juvenile self looked at you askew, and interrogated you for more clarity. Harangued you until you popped out another analogy.

The one where you said that,

“It doesn’t matter what happens in a day. The next morning, when you wake up, that person still smells like honey to you. It’s like that with family, it’s like that with real love”.

You really loved honey, now that I think about your analogies. If you were here now, I’d make you a sandwich. I’d love to just be able to make you a sandwich again, and talk all of this wonderful stuff through. I’d love to squeeze your hand and just feel you sitting next to me and being over the moon for me. Me, who never thought this possible.

On Home.

Stored in my home, are bits and pieces of your life. Our family life. I have photographs, and things, letters, cards, reports, newspaper clippings and little pieces of paper for which us members of the Jenkin troupe appear to love peppering our lives with. Cameron sleeps, we laugh, we play, we sing, we talk, we love. I pretend to eat Cameron’s toes and yell “sweeties”. I do that just for you. Just for you. Sometimes it’s cobbled together but, Dad, I have a happy home. The one you believed in for me, before I even knew it could happen.

On being a Mom.

This is the part I wish you were here for the most. For you to see how you were right. You told me once that you didn’t fully believe in reincarnation. That, in your view, we carry on entirely through the children that come after us. I see you in my nieces and I see you in Cameron. I see you in her stubbornness. I see you in her complex thought patterns. I see you with Cameron’s love for puzzles and in how she hates to lose in card games (my siblings are laughing at this point). I see you when I look at her thinking. I see you when I see her eyes sparkle. And I hope that you are proud.

On being Cath.

I’m thirty now. Wow. It seems not so long ago that I said “Daaaad, thirty is SO old…”. You were right, it’s not. It’s just a new “decade of adventure”. I’m loving it so far. On being me? I still love the same things. I love feeling at home, and I feel that way alot now. It’s not such a rarity. I am surrounded by wonderful people, every day. People I’d have brought home to you and Mom, for dinner and a laugh. The people I’d have thrown a house party with, and they would have ended up swapping stories with you more than they did with me. Thank you for instilling in me the desire to be tenaciously and without regret, myself.

It is through being my honest self, that good things come to me. Of all the things I am grateful to you for, it’s that lesson. The lesson that I should never give up and try to conform to what someone else believes is right for me, no matter how much I loved them, or thought they loved me.

Thank you for the vibrant, often crazy, run-on-love upbringing you gave me. I know I rebuked it so much as a teenager. But now, now I celebrate it. Thank you for the crazy times, and the parts that taught me to care beyond myself. Thank you for teaching me that it’s more important to help, than it is to be helped.

Happy Birthday Dadadadad. They best pour you the Chivas in heaven tonight,

xxx

Cath-Cath.

Happy Birthday to ChristopherM

Dear Chris,

Random fact you do not know – you share a birthday with my Dad (more on that later).

So, you’re 28. You’re a freaking spring chicken, you realise? Stop whining about your aging and celebrate your most excellent of pinnacles. Yes, 28 is a pinnacle year. Deal with it 🙂

Truth is, 28 is bound to be a year of growth, more learning, adventure and yeah, have to say it, hard work.

But that, that is not ever something you’ve feared.

Happy birthday, my friend.

Thank you for being a voice of reason that I often need, in life and work alike.

Thank you for being a sounding-board, a friend, a confidante. Someone who will listen to me whine at 1am over Skype, and pull my head together.

Thank you for pushing me in the right direction, paved with honesty.

Thank you for “skooling” me. You know I secretly blame my happiness on your ability to see past my fears, and urging me to get real about aspects of my life I was too scared to get real about.

Thank you for believing in me, beyond what I believed.

You are a good friend, a kick-ass colleague and absolutely brilliant at being you.

p.s. Thank you for sharing a birthday with someone who was all these things for me, and so much more.

The Birthday Benchmark Blog.

So, someone asked me why I didn’t make a speech at my own birthday.

Truth is, I didn’t want to. Truth is, with everything that’s happened in the last year, I was a little scared I’d choke up and fall over, emotional. Now is not the time to be faint-hearted.

In turning 30, I obviously reflected. Lucky for you reading this, I kept that mental regurgitation of a decade mostly to myself (and yelled appropriate parts down the phone at Sheena when I needed to. Thanks, fuckbitch, for dealing so damn well with my panicked phonecalls, like always).

What would I have said anyway? All I am is gratitude. A decade of hell and heaven. So much learning, so much discovery. So much laughter and probably far too much heartache. But, oh, the heart-swelling moments made every ache worthwhile. In retrospect, the times I held hands and grinned at the world, with people I loved, made every time I felt alone and frankly wanted to just disappear, worth it.  Every time Cameron opens her mouth and says something that saves the day, makes the hell of two years of post-natal depression worth it. Every time I felt unsure, was worth it for every time I held a certainty. Every time I meandered into self-doubt and couldn’t get out, was worth it for every time my faith got me through.  Every single insular moment, meant that every moment I felt a part of something meaningful, was even more beautiful. Every time I was left, was soothed by every time I was accompanied.

If I think back, at 20, I thought I would marry the person I was with then. And yes, Sheena, it was who you think it was. You may now snort your tea laughing. Not even a spit of time went by before I realised that was not to be. At all. Thank fuck for that first-of-the-decade life realisation.  How funny, when I saw his parent the other day, and we had a giggle about our past, I realised how very, very different children can be from their parents. I just hope in his life, he got some good parts from his dad. Disparaging comments on exes over with. Maybe. We’ll see.

It was in this decade that I began to write some things I am still proud of. Not all of them, mind you. It was in this decade that I learnt about the inroads of my head, and explored them, sometimes with and mostly without, fear. That got me in to trouble at times. I am okay with that trouble.

It was in this decade that I lost my parents, and gained a child.

It was in this decade that I had to, numerous times, either forced or by choice, to re-define my own sense of belonging on every level I can think of.

It was in this decade that I lost more than I thought I could bear, and gained more than I ever thought possible.

I am forever thankful for this decade. The one with the sparkles and the shit. Even more thankful that, looking back, I don’t recall once ever finding said sparkles mixed up with said shit. That’d be just gross. Always the counter-balance, where the sunshine did come after the rain, even when it looked like the clouds just would not fucking move the fuck on.

I’ve emerged so thankful for every day. Even when given everything, or left desolate with everything taken away, I am still, in retrospect, steeped in gratitude.

But, what  is it about benchmarks? These benchmarks we set for our lives, and we set for other people. Someone who I still hold very dear to me, once told me that I am the benchmark against which they compare every person they meet. I don’t think I’m ever going to be okay with that, and I reckon their bias towards me speaks more about the life experiences we had apart, than it did during our  times together.  But, the truth is, benchmarks exist for a reason. And, when those benchmarks are exceeded, in whatever form, you are left with a choice. The choice to create a new benchmark or to stop measuring entirely.

I choose to stop measuring entirely. I choose to actively try not to compare myself with others, and in particular those people I secretly fear the most sometimes. I’ll do my best to truly love what there is, for what it is. And I’ll not hang on to expectation, as best I possibly can.

Still, I’m learning. I’m excited to learn.

Thank you, decade-of-twenties, for showing me who the hell I was. And, well, decade-of-thirties, let’s see how you take that who I am, and get better at it.

At just being me.

Blessed

I am thirty, and I am totally okay with it.

I am loved, beyond all sphere of my former imagination.

I am blessed, in ways I could never have expected.

I am laughing, in the way that made my parents smile.

I am jubilant, in spite of the sometimes-trudge through life.

I am exuberant, and I could not care about your opinion on it.

I am mama, and I am the luckiest one there is.

I am proud, and I have nothing to apologise for today.

I am nufi, and this is my nickname.

I am a friend, and in friends I am so rich.

I am steeped in history, and excited for the future.

I am dancing, and the music is my own tune.

I am all I said I wanted to be, and that’s entirely myself.

I am crying, for tears are honest and I thrive on honesty.

I am overwhelmed with gifts, and feel the warmth of thoughts against my hands.

I am holding hands, as I jump in to the next decade.

And as for you, Miss Gates…be warned 🙂

30 for 30

1. Unwittingly brought an egotistical SA popstar (now no longer with us) down to size in a hotel lobby, in 2001 #turning30

2. Got a degree #turning30

3. Lost both parents #turning30

4. Gained gorgeous child #turning30

5. Fell in love. #turning30

6. Survived domestically violent relationship #turning30

7. Got paid for the first time to write something #turning30

8. Moved out of home #turning30

9. Moved back home #turning30

10. Learnt how to roll with the punches of life, and still come out smiling #Turning30

11. Met the world’s most wonderful people, ever. And they’re all on my speed-dial list. #Turning30

12. Lived alone #Turning30

13. Grasped and loved the concept of alonetime #Turning30

14. Told my parents I loved them when I had the chance to.#Turning30

15. Survived on zero sleep, and still managed to achieve my goals.#Turning30

16. Flew around the country, and was met, every time, with a hug and a smile, and the warmth of people I call home #Turning30

17. Laughed so hard I fell over twice #Turning30

18. Resonated across the wires with people I had never met, and ended up more blessed than I could imagine #Turning30

19. Learnt more than I could have dreamt possible #Turning30

20. Loved without expectation #Turning30

21. Looked at a pregnancy test, found it to be positive, and knew that my life was being saved in a way I had not expected#Turning30

22. Reflected upon the life I have led, and changed all of it to be the one I wanted to live. #Turning30

23. Finally found shoes that represent who I am and in which, I feel strong #Turning30

24. Stood up for what I believed in, without fear of loss, always knowing it was worth it #Turning30

25. Grieved for my own innocence when gone #Turning30

26. Celebrated my own exuberance, without concern about opinion.#Turning30

27. Learnt how to trust. #Turning30

28. Learnt about courage, and how it has nothing to do with heroes, and everything to do with normal people #Turning30

29. Lifted my head out of a cloud of self-doubt #Turning30

30. And finally, living every day, forever thankful for everything that life has given me #Turning30

into. in2.

in2 days. i will be 30.

in2 days. i will be at the age where i said i would, by then, have done something. i have not done it. not due to lack of my own desires but, let’s just say, lack of correct situations. i am okay with this.

in2 days. i get to look back on a tri-decade of life.

in2 days. i thought i’d be more sad by now. i’m not. i’m fierce. i’m happy. i’m secure. i’m oscillating. one moment i am wonderful, the next i feel bereft. i think it’s the grief talking, and not the me talking. i think the grief is still working it’s way through the me. it takes time.

in2 days. i am supposed to give up smoking. i’m not. fuck that, seriously. just fuck that.

in2 days. i will be free of the hell and the heaven that my 20s brought with it.

in2 days. i get to start to learn about the third time around the pendulum. strangely for me, this swing feels more solid than it did 10 years ago.

in2 days. i will celebrate, not commiserate.

in2 days. i get to reflect on everything the past 10 years has taken away (parents included) and everything the past 10 years has given (gorgeous child, love abounding and so, so, so much more ).

in2 days. i won’t wake up alone on my birthday for the first time in 10 years.

it is that that makes the difference.

seventeen days.

Whilst Cam was sick yesterday (she had croup. it’s horrible. especially waking up and wondering where the tractor noise is coming from inside your house, and realising it’s coming from your kid’s chest), we chatted.

She climbed in to my bed, and watched a little IT Crowd and Big Bang Theory with me (bugger off, parenting police, she loves it and hey, I’d rather have a kid obsessing over Penny and Sheldon, rather than that purple dinosaur I won’t mention, and of whom I am most of fond of saying goodbye to…).

And, we talked.

With just seventeen days away from her being five…she had a lot of questions…

“mom, when I am five, will I get really big? and will it hurt?”

(oh, Cam. growing up is hard, and it doesn’t ever stop hurting. but, usually, not in your bones but, sometimes in your heart).

“Mom, will i grow more teeth?”

“Yes, Cam, you know how some children’s teeth are falling out? And then the tooth fairy comes and gets the teeth and gives the children money or something?”

*insert pause from Cameron whilst she thinks*

“Mom, are there fairies for everything? Birthdays, teeth, Christmas. Why are there no Easter fairies, because there is an Easter Bunny?”

“Yes, Cam, there are fairies for everything you can think of”.

*insert pause from Cameron who looks at me and then trumps it…”

“Oh. Can I get one for just me then? There are so many!”

***

I still can’t believe my daughter will be five. I remember being five myself. I remember like it was yesterday, and that’s no cliche. I can still feel my favourite pink cardigan. I even remember unwrapping my presents around the oblong table in my parent’s lounge.

I remember how my shoes felt against my little feet and how I loved the buckles. I still love buckled shoes. They always make me feel so safe. I had a too-short fringe just like Cam (that’s a clue for what’s below). Cam is far more secure than I am though, at that age. I remember always feeling so shy. Not much has really changed. Believe it or not.

A cupcake for whoever can actually spot me in this picture.

***

And then, of course, I asked the question…

“Cam, what would you like the Birthday Fairies to bring you for your birthday?”

She rattled this list off to me a while ago, but she pulled this one out of the hat yesterday. It’s a clear amendment on the first one she told me. hehe.

Rollerskates. Mom. The type with four wheels. Like from when you were little.

A sister. Or a brother. I dont mind, but, if its a brother, he cant share my toys. You’ll have to buy him his own boys things.
Clothes!

Beads

Swings
A ballie that bounces so high (NO, she has enough of them)

Balloon

A play-play plastic snake.

A teaset. A glass one (am i expecting the queen for tea or something?!)

Smarties

Chocolate

Make up

A mirror

A Brides dress with a veil that doesnt hurt. A white one and a pink one

High shoes

A costume

Funky goggles (big ones, with the nose cover)
a pretend fishie and…everything she likes (what the hell does a fish like?)

A Barbie.

A baby (okay, Cam, I know you want a sibling but that’s a no for now!)

Bath bubbles

dress up everything (wtf is that?)
Rapunzel. The actual princess from the tower. And the ugly witch so that I can kick her. And the dragons

The barbie and the three musketeers DVD
More CDs for her radio. Mostly Beyonce – “All the single ladies. you know that song, mom? *shakes her ass whilst I shake my head* (grrrr)

Jewellery.

Puzzles. With lots of pieces (she’s doing seventy-plus piece puzzles at school now. Yeah, I know, I was just as shocked when I found out!)

***

My baby girl, I can’t believe you’re going to be five.

the shmooshy birthday post

Today is my shmooshy’s birthday. He turns a year older, and well, he doesn’t need the wisdom.

You see, you, we had this discussion a while ago and bitching about how very old we were getting. And my brain, as it always does, wandered towards birthdays and celebrations…

Bam! Fact for you…

I never thought you’d be celebrating it with me.

But, then, as you well know, we are the unexpected story. The one that has me smiling at sunrises and keeps me smiling when  day is quite hard. It’s the one I like to read, over and over again. And inspires me to be more myself than I have in a long, long time. And that includes being a lame and unashamed girl.

The truth is, skeptical cynical Cath never really has been very good at being a girl. Mostly because I’ve never really felt good enough/safe enough/stuff enough to really be that with another person. There’s probably a myriad of reasons for that…all of which are currently unimportant and irrelevant. heh.

I thank you for your honesty with me. Always the honesty. Even when you think it might hurt. I thank you for sitting through my rants with me. Even when you think they’re totally unfounded. I thank you for your patience with me when I waver. And for dealing with my sometimes desire to want to punch things.

I thank you for the way you are with Cameron. How very calming it is. I thank you for spending fuck knows how long it took you to find the only copy of The Little Mermaid on DVD in Durban, just so my little princess’ dream could come true. I thank you for the way you are with me.

I thank you for the little things. The tiniest of observations. The shit you notice that no-one else does.

And really, Shmooshy, no-one else does.

I thank you for getting me. For understanding when I say “Cath-Time”. For needing “Shmooshy-Time” too.

I thank you for being you. With your warp-speed mind and tangents of babble. For making me laugh and cuddling me when I need it. I thank you for your male brain and it’s peripheral vision that extends beyond shoes (and for this, I kick you :P)

Happy birthday my Shmooshy. Big pink cartoon hearts all round.

Revenge and Cupcakes on an Aeroplane

It started with a phonecall. That I missed. Heh. Larcy was round for tea and tuck
that night, and I picked up my phone just as it went to voicemail. It was Angel.
I listened to the voicemail, disbelievingly looked at larcy and said:
You know how I was just saying I kinda wish Sheena’s birthday was here so that you
could actually, like, meet her? Well, Angel and Glugster want to fly me up for it!
Heh. What should I do?
My heart said:
Go.
Go, because it meant being able to be there for Sheena’s 25th. We all know my theory
on the 25th year. Oh, Sheena, I owe you a phonecall about that one…
Go, because, truth be told, I owe the bitch because of last year’s birthday, when she
engineered my surprise party and had me in fits of tears and insults towards my best
mates.
Go, because, Cath, you can.
So, under a thickly-spread veil of lard and bleak emails, I conned Sheena into
believing that I was very, very bleak about missing it. Over six weeks, talking every
day to the madam, and laying it on thick like never before, I did it.
I kept checking the calendar. I’d be lying if I said that Angel and I didn’t count
down via morning text message. We did. Most of them were something like:
OMG! THREE SLEEPS LEFT!!!!
Hehe. Fuck, i love my friends.
So, with Cam packed off to her dad for the weekend, Friday woke up and I left the
office by ten. Way too distracted to sit around and wait for the day to roll by, I
had my hair cut, went home and finished packing. When Will came round with the now
infamous ‘big ‘n gay’ suitcase, and my stuff only *just* fitted in it.. Hey, don’t
judge me… a girl needs options, you know. I can actually fit my entire self into
that suitcase. True story.
So, off we went to the airport, I checked in and settled down for a bit of lunch and
even more Sheena-ragging. Dude! I called you from the airport! ROTFL.
Soon enough, that little green plane had me touching down in good old Egoli, were I
was met by Angel and Glugster, carrying gorgeous flowers and an insane balloon.
Before I even go there. Before I even start on the events that transpired, of tears
shat and maniacal laughter…I want to tell you about Angel and Glugster.
You see, dear audience of twelve, Angel and Glugster found me via Sheena. And when
Angel started her regular ‘blog stalkings’ of me, and I of both her and
even-numbering-obsessed Gluggie, I started patching together the pieces of their
lives. I fell in love with their story. And most of all, I fell straight into
inspiration. Here was Angel, rocking single mama who had finally found the man who
loved her and her child without boundary. And here was Glugster. A true gentleman who
so absolutely loves his now wife-to-be and her son. A love story through the good old
blog. When my life hit a horrible rocky turn last year, Angel and Glugster stood by
me, in ways I cannot even elucidate. They loved me from afar and when I finally met
them, on my lounge floor, whilst playing with Cam, I was, truth be told, awed.
They’re both grinning and blushing whilst reading this, I am okay with this. Their
love knows no boundaries, and it extends to Cameron and I. When I said that good
things and good people have come to me via this little habit of mine, once regarded
as disdainful, i’m not shitting you. Cameron calls them “the angel without wings and
the man who loves her”. Angel and Neels, I just wanted to say thank you. Such little
words, but so heartfelt. Just, thank you. For you, every day, my heart says a prayer.
You know why.
So, they picked me up and we ferried off to an Italian restaurant where the waiter
knew very little (“what is this brandy stuff you speak of?”) and the food awesome.
“What is this no cocktail menu rule of yours? are you insane?”. Okay, I admit, the
bad waiter mojo is my fault. 😛
And we laughed. Laughed so hard. Laughed so much. Hey, Angel, you didn’t show me your
cupcake! Waha.
And then, home. To sleep and be warm and be ready for the onslaught of Gold Reef
City. Warm and snug, I thought to myself, and of course, unable to tweet or say
anything, I thought.. “heh, i am lucky and heh, Sheena, dude, revenge is so sweet”.
Saturday opened up her eyes and the sun shone – good thing too, because I would’ve
frozen my youknowwhats off if it hadn’t.
I got to sit with Angel whilst she created the SheBee and 8unni cupcakes and truly,
Angel, if I let Cameron loose in your kitchen, I fear you will never recover. Hehe.
It’s a kitchen making heaven in a cupcake, right there, and oh boy, Cam will just
freak out in excitement.
And off we went, after doing a little network setup for the Knucklehead and his mate.
By the way, Knucklehead, you are so, so, so much like my very-missed friend, Dewald.
Truly. Thank you for your time and laughing with me, and for putting me on to some
pretty cool bands I’m going to get hold of. Now, where do i get that hairdye!?!)
Dropping the cupcakes off at Primi, and a quick smokebreak later, we arrived at Gold
Reef City. Hiding behind Neels all the way, and of course, showing off my bra to
Angel in the parking lot (Cath standard operating procedure, of course), we met Craig
and Sam in the queue. Thanks, you two, for getting us our tickets so we didn’t have
to slog the queue for half an hour.
Hugs all round, and we’re standing outside the Tower of Terror. I hid behind the wall
when Sheena emerged, still shaking from that shit-yourself of
who-the-fuck-would-even-want-to-do-that-ride.
Hugs all round again, and still she hadn’t seen me…
So, I pounced, hand over her mouth and I said
“Hey, tart, what’s sweeter than birthday cake?”
Which is when I yanked her head back and said
“Revenge!”
Angel says Sheena and I have our own language. True story, we do. insert hand
motions, a cup of tea and a “the chocolate is full of bath” phrase, and we do. But,
that language didn’t exist for ten minutes whilst we both shat tears and jumped
around.
Truth be told, a number of people not part of the gang and the gag must’ve thought
“are these two retarded or just still screaming from the tower of terror?”
To my endearingly termed fuckbitch and former Shath-mate, I got you. I got you so
well I live in fear of my 30th birthday. Heaven help me for how you’re going to repay
me for this one. You’re probably in evil planning stages now. I think I’m going into
hiding June through to July next year.
I got to meet so many people, round the lunch table at the world’s worst Mugg n Bean,
with the world’s worst waiter (see, told you I have that mojo) and Craig got to bitch
about his very teeny tiny garnish salad.
We moved off after eating, and I practiced my ball skills to try and get a pink shark
for Cam. Turns out my ball skills have nothing to do with the actual sport
equipment,if you get my drift. Heh.
My favourite part of Gold Reef City has to be the Kiddies section. Maybe it’s because
I’m a mama. Maybe it’s because I know Cam would love it there. Yes, my notsobabygirl,
you’re coming with next time, I promise.
With the help of our crew, Neels won Cam a stuffed dog. His name is Sheeba Bolt
Snickerdoodle, and he’s fast asleep now, paws wrapped up inside Cameron’s little
arms. Thank you, my friends.
Another table, another group of people and I started to feel like this was
fast-becoming one of my top five weekends of life. True story, I think it has. We
laughed and talked and joked ’til the sun started to set.
And, then, off to Primi for dinner, drinks and debauchery. That said, noone danced on
the table (chairs don’t count, girls :P) and Sheena managed to get through the night
without having one of the girls pop out, hah.
I met so many wonderful people. Funny. Hilarious, in fact. I knew that already from
our twitter karaoke and banter. What I didn’t expect was how much you’d all feel so
much like home to me.
On that note, though, yes, dudes, I really am this short. I know I come across as
much taller, I get that alot, but, yes, I really am this short. Yes, jokes do fly
over my head (that was a new one) and yes, I really do shop in the kiddie
sectionsometimes.
In no particular order (and if i forget anyone, please forgive me now, I’m writing
this a few days later and i left my notebook at the office!) :
Jon – I’m getting to you just now. From meeting you in my driveway on a Sunday
afternoon to your now well-honed ability to put up with all that is Sheena, your
smile says it all.
8unni – from one single mama to another, keep rocking it, chick.
Flea – wahaha. Dude, I’ve licked your face. You can stay 😛
Richard – fuckoffsideways, you really are that tall.
Rebecca – you owe me one rescue tactic. You know why. Heh. Good to meet you.
Garsen – you are exactly who I expected you to be. Garrulous, divine and hilarious.
You owe me a dinner, cooked by you. I’ll await your call 😛
Bergen – two things – never steal a lady’s chair and get on your knees, boy. 😛
Sam – if there was one person I wish I could have had more quiet time with, it was
you. For so many reasons. Now, sing it with me: “she wants to ….”. wah. Poor you,
Bergen, poor you.
Gareth – where can I get me one of these electric cigarettes, please? I think it may
be the answer I have been hunting for!
Craig – my friend Craig. You with your warm hug and iPhone addiction. Heh. And your
honest approach to life. Who would’ve thought we’d have so many people in our mingled
past already.
Philip – you, so quiet. I expected you to be taller! Kidding, I had to get someone
back for it! You have such a clever eye. Kudos.
I know I’ve forgotten people. Dammit. Just know this, please, you made a birthday
surprise girl, feel like she was at home in her pjs, comfortable and on her own
couch. Thank you.
When the night drew to a close, the actually-quite-jacked waiter (yay! we broke the
pattern!) brought round the bill and we all said goodbye, I started texting Jon
(Sheena, stop abusing your phone’s battery!). Heaven only knows what I said but, man
I hope it was good. heh.
Sleep, and a sunrise, I got up, made us all the Cath-breakfast, and got to sun for a
little while with someone i have been dying to meet – the now-blog-in-hiatus Sweets.
Chick, it was damn fine to meet you. And even more awesome to know that you’re doing
well. You so deserve it, hon. So much so.
ExMi and the BF joined us, without the Kid, deemed my future son-in-law, who was
pretty ill. Poor babe. I hope he’s doing better, mommy-van-driving tartface 😛
Shortly afterwards, after she finished faffing around, like usual, and was most
probably gently shunted out the door by Jon, Sheena came round too.
And what did I get? Yes, folks, an awesome T-Vaal T-shirt tan. My nose is now
peeling. Help?
Far too soon, it was airport time. Far too soon for me. I sat in departures, waiting
to board, crying my head off. I didn’t think I would be. I knew it would be a
whirlwind trip. I didn’t expect it to be a heart-wrenching to leave as it was.
And wing back I did. To home, to Cameron, who ate all her Angel-made cupcakes in
three minutes flat and then asked if I could fly back and get some more for her
(heehee)! To Cameron, who loved her Sheeba Bolt Snickerdoodle doggie and tried, very
hard, to insert the entire worlds-largest-lollipop into her mouth. She’s still
working on it.
And on Sunday night, I was tired. A weird tired for me. It wasn’t from working, or
monitor-tanning til 1am. It was a strange tired. I was tired from having a good time.
From relaxing. From laughing so much I know I grew a few more laughter lines.
And, in bed, snuggled up with my precious daughter, I smiled to myself.
Thank you for a wonderful, insane, hilarious weekend. I remember, now, who I am.
Photo
Photos courtesy of AngelsMind
Formatting intentionally insane.
It started with a phonecall. That I missed. Heh. Larcy was round for tea and tuck that night, and I picked up my phone just as it went to voicemail. It was Angel.
I listened to the voicemail, disbelievingly looked at Larcy and said:
You know how I was just saying I kinda wish Sheena’s birthday was here so that you could actually, like, meet her? Well, Angel and Glugster want to fly me up for it!
Heh. What should I do?
My heart said:
Go.
Go, because it meant being able to be there for Sheena‘s 25th. We all know my theory on the 25th year. Oh, Sheena, I owe you a phonecall about that one…
Go, because, truth be told, I owe the bitch because of last year’s birthday, when she engineered my surprise party and had me in fits of tears and insults towards my best mates.
Go, because, Cath, you can.
So, under a thickly-spread veil of lard and bleak emails, I conned Sheena into
believing that I was very, very bleak about missing it. Over six weeks, talking every day to the madam, and laying it on thick like never before, I did it.
I kept checking the calendar. I’d be lying if I said that Angel and I didn’t count
down via morning text message. We did. Most of them were something like:
OMG! THREE SLEEPS LEFT!!!!
Hehe. Fuck, i love my friends.
So, with Cam packed off to her dad for the weekend, Friday woke up and I left the office by ten. Way too distracted to sit around and wait for the day to roll by, I had my hair cut, went home and finished packing. When Will came round with the now infamous ‘big ‘n gay’ suitcase, and my stuff only *just* fitted in it.. Hey, don’t judge me… a girl needs options, you know. I can actually fit my entire self into that suitcase. True story.
So, off we went to the airport, I checked in and settled down for a bit of lunch and even more Sheena-ragging. Dude! I called you from the airport! ROTFL.
Soon enough, that little green plane had me touching down in good old Egoli, were I was met by Angel and Glugster, carrying gorgeous flowers and an insane balloon.
Before I even go there. Before I even start on the events that transpired, of tears shat and maniacal laughter…I want to tell you about Angel and Glugster.
ANGLUGANGLUG 2You see, dear audience of twelve, Angel and Glugster found me via Sheena. And when Angel started her regular ‘blog stalkings’ of me, and I of both her and even-numbering-obsessed Gluggie, I started patching together the pieces of their lives. I fell in love with their story. And most of all, I fell straight into inspiration. Here was Angel, rocking single mama who had finally found the man who loved her and her child without boundary. And here was Glugster. A true gentleman who so absolutely loves his now wife-to-be and her son. A love story through the good old blog. When my life hit a horrible rocky turn last year, Angel and Glugster stood by me, in ways I cannot even elucidate. They loved me from afar and when I finally met them, on my lounge floor, whilst playing with Cam, I was, truth be told, awed.
They’re both grinning and blushing whilst reading this, I am okay with this. Their love knows no boundaries, and it extends to Cameron and I. When I said that good things and good people have come to me via this little habit of mine, once regarded with disdain by some, i’m not shitting you. Cameron calls them “the angel without wings and the man who loves her”. Angel and Neels, I just wanted to say thank you. Such little words, but so heartfelt. Just, thank you. For you, every day, my heart says a prayer. You know why.
So, they picked me up and we ferried off to an Italian restaurant where the waiter knew very little (“what is this brandy stuff you speak of?“) and the food was awesome. “What is this no cocktail menu rule of yours? are you insane?”. Okay, I admit, the bad waiter mojo is my fault. 😛
And we laughed. Laughed so hard. Laughed so much. Hey, Angel, you didn’t show me your cupcake! Waha.
And then, home. To sleep and be warm and be ready for the onslaught of Gold Reef City. Warm and snug, I thought to myself, and of course, unable to tweet or say anything, I thought.. “heh, i am lucky and heh, Sheena, dude, revenge is so sweet”.
Saturday opened up her eyes and the sun shone – good thing too, because I would’ve frozen my youknowwhats off if it hadn’t.
I got to sit with Angel whilst she created the SheBee and 8unni cupcakes and truly, Angel, if I let Cameron loose in your kitchen, I fear you will never recover. Hehe.  It’s a kitchen making heaven in a cupcake, right there, and oh boy, Cam will just freak out in excitement.
And off we went, after doing a little network setup for the Knucklehead and his mate. By the way, Knucklehead, you are so, so, so much like my very-missed friend, Dewald. Truly. Thank you for your time and laughing with me, and for putting me on to some pretty cool bands I’m going to get hold of. Now, where do i get that hairdye!?!)
Dropping the cupcakes off at Primi, and a quick smokebreak later, we arrived at Gold Reef City. Hiding behind Neels all the way, and of course, showing off my bra to Angel in the parking lot (Cath standard operating procedure, of course), we met Craig and Sam in the queue. Thanks, you two, for getting us our tickets so we didn’t have to slog the queue for half an hour.
Hugs all round, and we’re standing outside the Tower of Terror. I hid behind the wall when Sheena emerged, still shaking from that shit-yourself of
who-the-fuck-would-even-want-to-do-that-ride.
Hugs all round again, and still she hadn’t seen me…
So, I pounced, hand over her mouth and I said
Hey, tart, what’s sweeter than birthday cake?
Which is when I yanked her head back and said
Revenge!

REUNIONAngel says Sheena and I have our own language. True story, we do. insert hand motions, a cup of tea and a “the chocolate is full of bath” phrase, and we do. But, that language didn’t exist for ten minutes whilst we both shat tears and jumped around.
Truth be told, a number of people not part of the gang and the gag must’ve thought…
“are these two retarded or just still screaming from the tower of terror?”
To my endearingly termed fuckbitch and former Shath-mate, I got you. I got you so well I live in fear of my 30th birthday. Heaven help me for how you’re going to repay me for this one. You’re probably in evil planning stages now. I think I’m going into hiding June through to July next year.
CRAIG AND HIS SALAD
I got to meet so many people, round the lunch table at the world’s worst Mugg ‘n Bean, with the world’s worst waiter (see, told you I have that mojo) and Craig got the world’s teeniest tiniest garnish salad.
We moved off after eating, and I practiced my ball skills to try and get a pink shark for Cam. Turns out my ball skills have nothing to do with the actual sport equipment,if you get my drift. Heh.
BALL SKILLSMy favourite part of Gold Reef City has to be theCATH AND BOLTKiddies section. Maybe it’s because I’m a mama. Maybe it’s because I know Cam would love it there. Yes, my notsobabygirl, you’re coming with next time, I promise.
With the help of our crew, Neels won Cam a stuffed dog. His name is Sheeba Bolt Snickerdoodle, and he’s fast asleep now, paws wrapped up inside Cameron’s little arms. Thank you, my friends.
Another table, another group of people and I started to feel like this was
fast-becoming one of my top five weekends of life. True story, I think it has. We laughed and talked and joked ’til the sun started to set.
And, then, off to Primi for dinner, drinks and debauchery. That said, noone danced on the table (chairs don’t count, girls :P) and Sheena managed to get through the night without having one of the girls pop out, hah.
I met so many wonderful people. Funny. Hilarious, in fact. I knew that already from our twitter karaoke and banter. What I didn’t expect was how much you’d all feel so much like home to me.
On that note, though, yes, dudes, I really am this short. I know I come across as much taller, I get that alot, but, yes, I really am this short. Yes, jokes do fly over my head (that was a new one) and yes, I really do shop in the kiddie section sometimes.
In no particular order (and if i forget anyone, please forgive me now, I’m writing this a few days later and i left my notebook at the office!) :
SHEENA AND JONJon – From meeting you in my driveway on a Sunday afternoon to your now well-honed ability to put up with all that is Sheena, your smile says it all. /on that note, check the shitsmit on Sheena’s face here. wah/
8unni – from one single mama to another, keep rocking it, chick.
Flea – wahaha. Dude, I’ve licked your face. You can stay 😛
Richard – fuckoffsideways, you really are that tall.
Rebecca – you owe me one rescue tactic. You know why. Heh. Good to meet
you.
Garsen – you are exactly who I expected you to be. Garrulous, divine and hilarious. You owe me a dinner, cooked by you. I’ll await your call 😛
Bergen – two things – never steal a lady’s chair and get on your knees, boy. 😛
Sam – if there was one person I wish I could have had more quiet time with, it was you. For so many reasons. Now, sing it with me: “she wants to ….”. wah.
Gareth – where can I get me one of these electric cigarettes, please? I think it may be the answer I have been hunting for!
Craig – my friend Craig. You with your warm hug and iPhone addiction. Heh. And your honest approach to life. Who would’ve thought we’d have so many people in our mingled past already.
Philip – you, so quiet. I expected you to be taller! Kidding, I had to get someone back for it! You have such a clever eye. Kudos.
I know I’ve forgotten people. Dammit. Just know this, please, you made a birthday surprise girl, feel like she was at home in her pjs, comfortable and on her own couch. Thank you.
ILL TELL YOUR MOTHERWhen the night drew to a close, the actually-quite-jacked waiter (yay! we broke the pattern!) brought round the bill and we all said goodbye, I started texting Jon (Sheena, stop abusing your phone’s battery!). Heaven only knows what I said but, man I hope it was good. heh.
Sleep, and a sunrise, I got up, made us all the Cath-breakfast, and got to sun for a little while with someone i have been dying to meet – the now-blog-in-hiatus Sweets. Chick, it was damn fine to meet you. And even more awesome to know that you’re doing well. You so deserve it, hon. So much so.
ExMi and the BF joined us, without the Kid, deemed my future son-in-law, who was pretty ill. Poor babe. I hope he’s doing better, mommy-van-driving tartface 😛
Shortly afterwards, after she finished faffing around, like usual, and was most
probably gently shunted out the door by Jon, Sheena came round too.
TSHIRTTANAnd what did I get? Aside from the splendour of giggling with good friends and poking Sheena’s hungover head… Yes, folks, an awesome T-Vaal T-shirt tan. My nose is now peeling. Help?
Far too soon, it was airport time. Far too soon for me. I sat in departures, waiting to board, crying my head off.
I didn’t think I would be. I knew it would be a whirlwind trip. I didn’t expect it to be a heart-wrenching to leave as it was.
CAM AND BOLTCAMLARGE LOLLIPOPAnd wing back I did. To home, to Cameron, who ate all her Angel-made cupcakes in three minutes flat and then asked if I could fly back and get some more for her (heehee)! To Cameron, who loved her Sheeba Bolt Snickerdoodle doggie and tried, very hard, to insert the entire worlds-largest-lollipop into her mouth. She’s still working on it.
And on Sunday night, I was tired. A weird tired for me. It wasn’t from working, or monitor-tanning til 1am, like usual. It was a strange tired. I was tired from having a good time. From relaxing. From laughing so much I know I grew a few more laughter lines.
And, in bed, snuggled up with my precious daughter, I smiled to myself.
Thank you for a wonderful, insane, hilarious weekend.