And this is what you missed - belated edition.

As it seems I can’t even make three weeks in my attempt to have a weekly thing here. Sorry, I do try. In my defence all that you missed last week is that I had too much fun and then I got sick. Again. Certified sick, which doesn’t mean I don’t have to work, it merely means that the child has a name. Strep throat. Which I turned immediately into stepthroat because just like stepmother it sounds nice and evil and of course because I can’t spell. No surprise Google wasn’t helpful there in finding a definition for me, the ever eager patient, who didn’t really know what a st(r)ep throat meant. When it finally accepted my purposeful misspelling it gave me this: A disease which may lead to a sore throat. Dah! I could have told you that. What a let-down of definition and not nearly as horrible of a diagnosis as I feel it deserves. But I guess it’s good not to be mortally/stepmotherly ill.

So yes, all you missed is a very mopey, miserable me. As for the fun…you know what happens in Gardens stays in Gardens.

Anyversary post.

 The problem of going from being sick and slightly mentally unstable to being only sick a little, but quite clear in the head is as follows: one may have done something a bit silly while in the sick and unstable phase (Shall we just call it fraternizing with the enemy for the sake of this story?) and once feeling better one is unable to stop it, but now one has a brain back to think about what one is doing and what that may imply. Or something like that…we know that one!

I therefore take my mother’s advice and try to keep myself busy as my mind is not to be mollycoddled in any other way and will not shut up without the force of outward exercise. It is too hot to walk up Signal Hill. Okay, no, that was never the plan. But it is too hot to even walk around the block or better said I’m too hot and bothered and not in the good way (my favorite catch phrase these days…which is quite sad...I know, I know).

So here am I busying up a storm in my flat, which has gotten me so far to hang up the laundry. Afterwards I felt exhausted and had to sit under the AC for a bit and drink some Gatorade. Energade. Whatever.

Random thoughts that occur to me while I’m getting a brain freeze:

Can a DVD wear out after too much viewing and will the rental place be able to prove it and hold me liable?

I just hung up laundry on my balcony wearing only a tank top and briefs. I was wondering if anyone could see me - in the parking lot my balcony overlooks - and then decided that I was wearing more than I wear on the beach and I could explain that to the security guard quickly in case he was wondering what the half naked girl is doing on her balcony.

I actually just didn’t care.

I love plane food. Maybe not today. Nah, actually even today I don’t mind the idea.

Is wine advisable for a post - food poisoned stomach? If yes, is white or red better? That is a serious question and the answer yes would make my Monday.

I have a label labeled "annoying people". Hehe.

I was going to call this little interlude 'Sickling part II', because it would have been appropriate as I am still pretty sick - head and stomach - and because I couldn’t think of anything better. Luckily I remembered that this is post 50. Hurray me!

Now I will give the Internet some alone time, take some amusing pictures while the light lasts and get some James Bond DVDs I haven’t actually seen. But first I’m giving the 5 o’clock nap two thumbs up.

Sickling.

Ask me how my weekend was. I dare you to.

It sucked. After a pretty crappy week I thought uncharacteristically optimistic that the weekend may get better. No such luck. To make a long story short: I cried during meditation. Then thanks to the parts when I didn’t cry but had to hop up and down, I am now so sore that I can barely manage the spiral staircase in my flat. Which becomes a problem when you wake at 2am on Saturday and realize that you may have food poisoning and will need to frequently use the bathroom for the next 10 hours. The bathroom being on the on the opposite end of the spiral staircase. I do not lie - my legs have never been so sore in my entire life and I could have laughed about myself if it wasn’t all so tragic. Big sigh. To top that all of I think I have gotten the food poisoning from a lovely ball of Burrata mozzarella from Giovanni’s, my second favorite food in the world and meant as a Saturday treat to cheer me up after the week and the more than slightly traumatic meditation in the morning. Now I have the looming suspicion that I may never want to eat Burrata again, which makes me sad just thinking about it, even though I can’t really think about it now as the thought makes me slightly nauseous. It least last time it happened it was just from chicken Lo Mein and I have lived very well without it for the last 9 years.

I also realized once again that when I am sick I turn into a boy. A whining, the world is bad place, I want my Mommy and I want her now - boy. It didn’t help that I had to unseen movies or shows, no Gatorate and no salty crackers in the house and my cousin then called to invite me for a ride on the rubber duck and a braai. I missed it all and no mother in sight either. Mind you, I actually do not like Gatorate.

So with all this fragility going on inside and out, I can be forgiven for indulging in a little text conversation with the Frenchman especially since I had finally broken off ties with Dr. Maths Saturday afternoon just in time before I got too sick to do anything that makes sense. I swear it was the nausea moving my hands, writing somewhat witty replies and I just couldn’t help it. Quite frankly it was a very liberating feeling as was feeling too yuk to even judge myself. Maybe not a bad thing. Nobody should be judgmental anyhow…

The new day is spent, feeling very drained but much better, on the couch. Drove myself to the Engen, no mother needed, for some crackers and Gatorate and realized that they call it Energade here. But unfortunately it tastes just as bad. I will drink it up though as for the time being my good mood is returning and the rest of the week spells wine tasting, bubbly tasting, dinner date, dinner party and the weekend is not even included. So therefore quoting my favorite show (which I may have watched a bit too much of the last 24 hours): I am energading up!