Monday, January 24, 2011

Another misty day

We're almost a month into the new year already - can you believe it? So far, I've learnt a few things.

1) When your friends are talking about getting divorced, the smart thing to do is go far away and stay there until the dust settles. The stupid thing to do is blog about it and send them the link. All three of you who actually read this blog might notice that the offending post has been removed. Mmm.

2) When babies start pretending they can walk, they tend to fall over a hell of a lot. And bash their heads. And bruise themselves. If you happen to see me and my black and blue baby walking the streets, know this: We are not a domestic violence situation. We are toddler-, and parent-of-toddler-, -in-training.

3) Sometimes friendships are just put on hold. Intentionally or not. And sometimes you just need to leave them that way until you have a reason to revive them. My Spoon - this one's for you. I think about you often.

4) Lightning really can strike you through the kitchen and bathroom taps in your house. Apparently I began to doubt my father's authority (he was hit twice) on this subject somewhere along the line. Lesson learned. My faith in his wisdom has been restored, as of roughly 6pm last Saturday evening.

We've been a-farmin' we have, these last few weeks. Our little spot was allowed, by former owners, to become horrendously overgrown and undermaintained, as well as being a study in the art of the 'quick fix'. As a result, everything that needs doing around here generally needs undoing and then redoing. Extremely frustrating and time-consuming. Still, we've managed to swop a few services with our neighbours and are slowly starting to see the bones of what could be a very beautiful little patch of paradise. Our neighbours are an interesting bunch, I think I'll have to introduce them to you sometime soon...

There is a big year ahead of us, milestone birthdays, a new business venture, perhaps another little superhero in the mix. This year my father will have been dead for exactly half of my life, and though I think of him and miss him always, I don't feel ripped off by fate anymore. If I think of the life my father had tentatively mapped out for me, I very much doubt that I would be where I stand today, holding the hand of the man I love while our child plays at our feet. He would always have wished me happiness, just perhaps not have approved of the course I have taken in getting it.

I did something last week that I am intensely proud of. Without going into too much detail, I stood up for someone who was unable to defend herself. I was terrified, sitting in the car, waiting to go into that meeting. I sucked down half a bottle of Rescue Remedy, nearly brought up my breakfast, and was shaking so badly that I couldn't even turn my cellphone off. Every teeny little nerve in my body was firing madly as I stood in an empty boardroom trying to quell the instinct to flee. The lawyer walked in, followed by his client, and as I met their eyes and shook their hands I realised that a) they could only frighten me if I let them and, more importantly, b) I was allowed to be in control of myself. And I was. Spectacularly so. If you look up 'calm, collected and in control' in the dictionary you'll find a picture of me in a wood-panelled boardroom in Durban last week. And I will be kicking ass for the little people. Yessirree!