The Machine

The recipe

The Recipe For Out of Africa

3 parts Flirtation 2 parts Pizzazz 1 part Uniqueness Splash of Passion Sip slowly on the beach

What's the Recipe for Your Personality?

~ The Painting ~

He often wondered why she kept this painting. The edges were scuffed and the frame was cheap and outdated. The signature at the bottom was hardly legible and certainly hadn't been painted by anyone famous.

It didn't suit their comfortable country style decor in the slightest, in fact it had almost landed in the dumpster when they moved last week, but her violent reaction had forced him to salvage it albeit just to keep the peace.

Now he sat in the dark pondering the huge painting, hanging quietly and unobtrusively in her study, despite its size. The clock ticked rhythmically nearby and he heard the old house creak and settle as if for sleep. He wondered if getting the frame renewed or even having the picture refurbished would please his new young wife, and perhaps then, even he would grow fond of the painting, just a little.

He eased out of his chair and moved slowly around the room, viewing the picture from all angles, he removed and replaced his glasses many times and finally backed off with his head just slightly tilted to the side. The picture certainly took on quite a surreal look in the moonlight he concluded finally, and was almost beautiful.

His reverie was suddenly rudely interrupted. She had entered the room silently thought the open french doors, and hadn't spotted him in the shadows near the window. She glided quickly to the edge of the painting and ran her hand gently along the rough surface.

And then it happened. The slight movement was so quick he would have missed it if he hadn't been watching her so intently. Even so, the light was dim and his aged eyes were not what they used to be, he blinked rapidly as if to make sure, and then it happened again. She dipped her hand right into the painting, he could see the water ripple rapidly across the surface of the canvas, he shrank instinctively back into the shadows as she turned abruptly, and left the room as quietly as she had entered.

He clasped his shaking hands together to still them, and shuffled a little closer to the paintings edge now still and calm as it was before. The water seemed to beckon him in. He lifted his hand as she had done and quickly touched the surface of the canvas, his hand broke the surface immediately, the water rippled once more and his whole arm was infused with a warmth which quickly seeped through his skin and engulfed his whole body.

He jumped back startled as though he had touched a hot coal and backed away from the painting and out the door, then thrusting his hands deeply into the pockets of his smokers jacket, he stumbled up the stairs.

As he crossed the landing, he caught a brief reflection in the hallway mirror, he turned slowly and leaned heavily on the sideboard peering closely at the almost unfamiliar image staring back at him. The quizzical look on the face of a much younger, more youthful man entirely.

Vital Connection

The moment I tried to log on first thing this morning, and found I had no internet connection..the whole world must have heard me groan, it meant another phone call to Comcast.

I take a deep breath and dial 1 800 Comcast, the automated system puts me through to a variety of language choices, I choose English, and I wait. I put in my telephone number which is an out of state number and which of course directs me over to the east coast, there I speak to a lovely girl in Massachusetts. Not quite where I want to be but she assures me she can transfer me to the correct call centre, I wait. I get put through to another automated choice system, and have the option of being in The Bay Area, or Desert Cities, I'm not sure I'm in either. I choose the The Bay Area....WRONG....I am asked to put in my phone number again and would you believe, I'm right back to the Mass call centre. Grrr. I put the phone down and start again.

The same procedure. I choose Desert Cities. WRONG ANSWER. I dial again. By this time I'm close to tears. When asked for my phone number I put in a fictitious number with a local area code. This kinda confuses Ms Automation, but she perseveres and asks me a whole lot of questions trying her damnedest to catch me out, but I'm on to her, and have a smart reply each time, tapping in local zip codes and repeating the local number each time its asked (I made it dead easy so I would remember it...) I'm put on hold, and my palms become sweaty, they're on to me I think..oh god...I hold on, and hold..and..hold on....I trudge downstairs and start washing dishes with one hand, feed the dog with one hand, and then put on the coffee, realizing the phone is not permanently attached to my left hand put it down gingerly and turn it on to speaker. I boil two eggs, make some toast, fry up some mushrooms while listening to three Kenny G songs, wash those dishes. Back upstairs to the sounds of some Central American on his flute. I vacuum the upstairs carpets.

Eventually after a Very Long Time... a Real Person answers the phone, I drop the vacuum and sit on the floor in total shock, and stammer some inane drivel about my internet not working. He says he will look into it, can't find my account number though as its not linked to my 'new phone number' I assure him its new and its mine, he links it and my account opens as if by magic. He is quiet, there is no music now, my heart thudding so loudly I am sure he can hear it. He comes back and I almost weep with relief, its all fixed and I just have to reboot my computer. Which I do, and it works. I say good bye to the Real Person with some difficulty...

Over the Rainbow

Jonathan 4/7/1979-1/8/1995

I have no special place to go today, no particular memory which stands out, but however hard I try I am unable to let the day be just like any other.

I chose not to have a grave site, and scattered his ashes in the wind on the shores of the dam where his favourite swimming event was held each year, the one in which he had participated each year for the previous 5 years. I really didn't want to feel tied to one particular place too tightly. I feel such constrictive emotions about the place he died as it is, and I know I will never return there. Its the most heavenly area, green and lush in the midst of tall trees..he loved it so. The memory of him is everywhere I am and where I am not, it fills every pore of my being every single day.

Most days are much easier now, I talk and laugh about him freely. But today stands out for me, and for his brother and sister, for the rest my family and his friends too. Today, I know, in little pockets all over the world, his name will be mentioned, memories will be pondered over and he, and we, will be remembered with love and fondness..and that, honestly is good enough for me.

~I found my self walking randomly through this quaint little garden in a nearby town this afternoon, I arrived there spontaneously and quite by accident, I spotted these words on the wall, and felt perhaps, that my visit wasn't quite that random after all ~

A Path of Beads

a poem that was written by Kennedy last year, an absolutely wonderful piece which I just love, just click on the link.

Nic's leg

So he saw the specialist today, the bone is well aligned and does not need surgery. He is in a cast (red for Liverpool his fave UK soccer team!!!) and will be x-rayed again in a week. Hopefully the swelling will be down and his achilles tendon will be easier to view. He is fine and said I could post this on my porn site..I mean blog site...

Broken bones...

This is what a spiral fracture of the fibula looks like! My son injured himself last night during a soccer game, twisted his ankle in a rough tackle. Poor kid has torn his archilles tendon too. So it looks like possible surgery with no weight on his foot for 6 weeks, a cast.. and no soccer for the rest of the season. He sees the orthopedic surgeon in the morning.

Through the Mist

'I lift mine eyes unto the hills from whence cometh my help..' are the words which came to mind when I took this picture, one of my grandmothers favourite quotes from the Bible. I grew up in the hills of Swaziland and this scene of mist rising from the creases of the surrounding mountains after heavy rain, reminded me of her and of the view I grew up with and came to love.

From whence cometh your help, your comfort..your peace of mind, when things don't turn out the way you hoped they would? We all have times of frustration, loss and sheer unhappiness, life isn't easy, we know this...but what makes us stand up and face another day when things are really really tough!? For me, I truly believe we learn our coping skills as children we look around and we learn how to deal with problems by watching our parents cope.

I know that through tough times in my life, I have often thought back on my grandmother and the stoic way she coped with much of her hardships, sure she mourned and grieved and had a wee bit of a temper, but oh she was a solid salt of the earth Scots woman who epitomized strength, who never allowed the bad to overcome the good. I never ever saw her sit with idle hands either, she was always buys doing something, knitting, pondering a crossword or reading. She was a devout Christian and gleaned much of her strength from her faith and belief in the good life had to offer. She never thought of herself as someone special who was exempt from hardship, never thought of herself as one who deserved to have more money a bigger house, or more luck than anyone else. She lived a financially frugal life always, but oh her days were so full, of love and laughter and family and people flocked to her all of her 92yrs and in many ways she was richer than anyone else I know.

I have just watched Britney Spears lose custody of her children,and the meltdown which followed and I cant help but ask where are her parents in all this, where is her support system, are these her learned coping skills? To drink, use mind altering substances and then wonder why the courts have deemed her an unfit mother for her children? Its a sad fact that we learn what we grow up with, and then we actively or passively, teach our children the same skills..the healthy and the unhealthy. My heart bleeds for this girl and I hope I'm wrong but I do feel there is a tragedy here just waiting to happen, one which seems unavoidable.

Heavy Weather

It has poured with rain all day, the water rushing down the streets gathering all the fallen leaves and debris in its path. The trees have eventually been stripped bare of all foliage during last nights fierce winds and rain, giving me a sudden clear visual of the neighbourhood.

Senga perches up high keeping a beady eye on the world quite expecting the cat next door to use the rain as a cover to cross the border. What had alerted her today though wasn't the cat but the lonely basset hound next door... making his great escape.

He had dug a hole under the wooden fence sometime during the morning, and made a dash for freedom breaking some of the slats as he did so, after the noise, all I saw was his nose down and tail up as he trotted down the road with a new found agility that belied his size. He isnt the friendliest of dogs so I let him be, but I was relieved to see him sitting at his front door looking wet and pretty exhasuted a few hours later. He did have a certain gleam in his eye though having had a few well spent hours on the outside!

365 for 2008 ~ a photo a day blog. I am going to take a picture a day for year, and try be diciplined enough to write or at least post my one picture a day this year.

The road home...

It never gets easier to say goodbye, one of my many unlearned things. I probably shouldnt be a traveller, for no matter how much I enjoy seeing new places, im still not very good at it. You had too much luggage you know, you took too much, left too much behind as well. We seem to do so much condensed living for the times we are together and Im not sure Im very good at that either..hell Im no Readers Digest, i want the long drawn out version, always! But.. for better or for worse, it was something we had to do..have this time together again.

I miss you, I feel as though I've lost a part of me, I feel cheated though, as if I should be feeling nothing but joy after a special time shared, but the joy only comes in snatches, the missing lasts longer and I find I really really hate this...because I want the dishes stacked neatly when I get home in the mornings, the spoon on the sink..and your clothes on the floor, I want the comfortable sounds of togetherness, the light on and the heat turned way too high.

As I write tears rolling unashamedly, the jet engines will be roaring in your ears, the force of the take off pushing you deep into your chair. There are already flight delays on the board, so who knows what time you will get home. I know you're anxious about that, but be safe and if you read this in some cold transit lounge at midnight, know that I love you and hold all we have close, for however long it takes...