Wheeee!!!!

of course i'm running late! but i had to take a shower and have a chocolate croissant before i left. so now i'll be high on sugar and smelling decent at the beginning of the flight. no guarantees about what happens after.

i got my dramamine

i'm wearing natural fabrics and loose clothing

i've got the sneakers on

i will read the emergency folder thingy

then i'll have wine and vodka and be too knocked out to think about anything else

and my stomach will catch up with me in about a day...

Seedless Watermelons?

you know what we need? great innovation and invention. i know exactly what needs to be invented - a no packing method of travel. forget about moving people through space and time - move my wardrobe and bathroom cabinet. then i wouldn't have to stress about airline weight rules or whether or not i am going to break the zipper just before i have to leave for the airport. oh man, then i wouldn't worry about forgetting something because it would all just be there when i got there. lovely! i am getting excited!! i mean, someone invented sliced bread. this can't be too difficult.

such an important invention needed to be innovated. go for it geniuses! i leave tuesday!!

okay, okay, maybe finding a cure for aids might be a little more important.

She Ain't Heavy...

to those who complain about the long stretches of silence between my phone calls, emails or letters, i have decided that my excuse is that it is genetic. yeah, my sister may blame the slow connection from the farm but genetics is my story and i'm sticking to it. my sister sent an email on saturday. before that she sent an email in september 2006. but, she does me right by giving me something deep and meaningful to share. she has a Revival - a book of african poetry (available in bookstores in zimbabwe and, i'm sure, around the world). from it this piece from zimbabwean poet, samuel chimsoro...

Waiting and Longing by Samuel Chimsoro

I sat on a stone
Untwisted tendrils
Of emotions
And combed curled
Memories
Till fingernails broke
And the head was bald

I sat on a stone
Till tears fell on sand
And washed away
Silt of circumstance
From the crystal of yearning.

I sat on a stone
Till plans piled like wreaths
At the foot of my statue,
Commemoration of longing.

I sat on a stone
Petrified by your absence:
Stone deaf, benumbed,
Weathering without wincing
In timeless waiting
For the comforter

she is giving us time to "recover from the power of this poem", and then, she promises, she will share with us a poem called - i speak for the bush.

Still Working On The Leg Warmers

it's all the rage and once again, i am behind on the trend. i swear, i don't know why i can't be more with the times. i have no excuse. i am not out there finding a cure for aids, though i did have grand ideas and put forward a proposal incorporating gas chromatography when i entered college as a chemistry major. ah, the i can conquer all naivety of youth...

yeah well, so now i really have no excuse. apparently everyone is blogging about zimbabwe and me? i am wasting time talking about inordinately long bus rides. the shame of it all. i tell you, if i had known i would have chosen yesterday to put forward some deep theory substantiated by super-long words. instead, i read a historical romance while trying not to get motion sickness. i hang my head.

but i will own this - before the bbc reported about kubatana blogs, i sent a message to a friend in zimbabwe when i spotted bev clark's view of the people of zimbabwe as birthday cake. i asked her how it feels to be cake (vs. icing or blazing candles). so, even before it was hot, and even though i was not blogging about zimbabwe, i did happen to stumble across a zimbabwe blog.

so does that make me a trailblazer? a woman always ahead of the times? did i somehow wear leg warmers while in diapers but i just don't remember? is this why i am so sensitive to the cold? i'm going to think about it, while i eat some cake.

It's A Long, Long Road...

so i decided to beat the storm on friday and left work early to head out to boston. a 4 hour ride, i thought, if i get out early, i could miss the ugliness of the winter storm and maybe it would take 5 hours to get to boston.

at 4pm i was still a little optimistic. i called my friend and said, maybe i would be 2 hours late. even though we had just spent over and hour going so slowly i could have jogged next to the bus.

at 6pm we were still somewhere in connecticut.

i think we hit massachusetts at about 8pm.

a little after 9, the bus died. 30 minutes out of boston. something had frozen and there was snow packed around some supposed to be moving parts of the underside of the bus. how do i know? because the bus driver pulled open parts of the aisle, right next to my seat and i could see right through to the road.

bus came back to life at almost 10 and i FINALLY made it to boston at 10:30 pm.

nine and a half hours later

i have to take the bus back in a few hours...

Home, Home On The Range

well, actually the farm. but yeah,
i'm going home! in a little less than two weeks i am off home for a little less than two weeks.

and where might that be, perhaps you wonder?
ah, just some small country you've probably never heard of.
zimbabwe. well maybe you have heard of it - it is after all the last country in the alphabet. so you can say i want to travel the world, from afghanistan to zimbabwe.
but you know, nothing ever really happens in zimbabwe, young landlocked nation with a massive ego. no, wait, sorry; the ego is just mine. zimbabwe... it's not like you can mosey over to the beeb on any given day and find a story there about it. puhleez!
so i am packing my sunscreen and empty stomach and, for the first time ever, i am going to sleep on a farm. be one with hectares of domesticated nature. perhaps on the first day of jet lag i'll watch my sister do the morning milking. maybe i'll convince my little brother that i am cool enough to be seen running with him. and i am pretty sure i'll spend at least a day watching golf with my mother. and a little time - never enough - sitting with my father. and when the allergies hit out there in the tamed (yet pollen-fileed) wild, it'll be fine because, well, because it's home. and those who witness the swollen eyes, rashy reddened skin and manic sneezing - they love me for who i am on the inside not the scary beast i appear to be. right?

i am psyched! i am going home.

Dazed And Confuzzed

wow am i tired and worn out. it may have a little to do with the fact that i am still at work and it is almost 8pm (added to the fact that i woke up at 5:45am and lost count of the number of times i woke up during the night). perhaps it has to do with the taxes that i have been working on for the last few days. nah. it's that oh so ambitious spring upgrading mission i embarked upon on saturday. i must have been still riding on my runner's high (woke up at 6:30am to go running in the park - my first outside run since physio... woo-hoo!!!). i was in the city at 10am to watch a french film. yep, that was me on saturday morning - reading subtitles before i was even officially awake. then it was off to home improvement stores to pick up goodness only knows what kind of nonsense before i staggered home, dragging bags in my wake. up four flights of stairs and then out the door again to go to staples for stationary. i don't know what i needed the stationary for but i went out and got some anyway. staggered home carry boxes and dumped them right inside the front door. and now? now i am like half-way through an completely unthoughtout project and completely clueless about the next step forward. i cut my foot, hurt my back and inhaled all manner of, i'm sure, toxic dust. runner's high? gone now and replaced by very sobering reality check.

this is what i get for thinking i could do anything just because i put together two bookshelves.

7 March

today is international women's day.

thanks goodness then that it was yesterday that i read about the three 16 year old girls who were suspended. for what, you may be wondering. well let me tell you. up in westchester county, new york, these three high school girls were at an event where they recited a reading from the vagina monologues. and, shock, horror, dismay, these girls said vagina. i would love to have been a fly on the wall in the biology classes of those girls. i wonder what they do when they study the reproductive organs.

not to be outdone, a theatre out in atlantic beach, florida, had a marquee advertising the vagina monologues (i am sensing a recurring theme here). a woman complained because, as she was passing by with her niece, said niece looked up at the marquee and asked - what is a vagina? the aunt was offended she had to answer the question. so now the marquee reads - the hoohaa monologues. i couldn't make it up if i tried.

i'll just wait for international men's day to tell you about how the award-winning children's book the higher power of lucky is being banned all over the united states because it contains the word scrotum. i wonder what that is. i hope my aunt is not offended when i ask.

A Kinder Gentler Me

so yesterday a friend of mine asked when i had become "so militant". so i thought about it for a moment, trying to figure out what has changed in my life recently that might taken me from the laid back california surfer dude that i used to be (except that i am not from california, i can't surf and, last time i checked, i am not a dude) to the alleged militant somebody i am now. and i know what it is. high fructose corn syrup (and even the regular strain too). i decided to try not eating products containing any form of corn syrup. yeah... that was before i discovered that it is just about EVERYTHING! yes, the devil is everywhere. and it all started with the chocolate, where the difference in taste is very very obvious. a corn syruped chocolate bar is all sweetness, no flavour. sorry... i digress. corn syrup. militant. me.

well it takes a lot of work and dedication to avoid corn syrup in these here united states unless one shops exclusively at whole foods, aka whole paycheque. but i do try. i try really hard. but perhaps all this passionate avoidance along with a real sugar high has me boucing off the wall, just looking for things to have opinions on.

i find myself itching to walk up to that person in a fur coat and say to them - hey, that's not cute. if you didn't spend a whole lot of time and money removing every piece of hair from your body, you wouldn't need to wear someone else's hair. where's my red paint?

i read about non-binding resolutions against the war in iraq and a symbolic ban of the n-word in new york and i think - yes that really makes sense. you leaders who represent us, you come out and tell us that yes, you feel really strongly about this. apparently, it takes a lot of courage to tell us that you don't like it and you are going to do nothing about it.

i wake up to opinions on the mistreatment of injured soldiers at the walter reed medical center - unless i missed the fda determination that mouldy rat infested rooms are supposed to help speed up the recovery process. then again i am sure if a person was in a room like that he or she would really try hard to get out asap. and then i hear that the contract for support services at walter reed was awarded to iap in january 2006; a company headed by a former halliburton officer, a company that is best known for having trouble delivering ice during the response to hurricane katrina. stretch, yawn and reach for a sugary cup of tea. very sugary.

i've been told it might be a good idea to cut hydrogenated fats out of my diet...

Quirks?

a fellow magnificent blogger, dodos was tagged the other day. the mission? to list 6 "weird" things about yourself. shy person that dodos is, he still managed to put himself out there and thus tagged me. so in a lesser artistic fashion. pandave exposed...

1)

i used to have an awesome disco hula hoop but i gave it away to a lovely young lady, leaving me with red, white and blue. I LOVE TO HULA WITH THE HOOP! roller blading and double dutch are next on the list.

2)

apparently i tend to have the attention span of a gnat. i find myself starting many many things at the same time. i tell myself, focus, focus but last night these were 4 of the things i started... jill of many trades, apparently.

3)

i give my plants names (they are all girls) and i sing and talk to them too. but look at the results. chimoto is growing like a weed! wait a minute...

4)


i adore fabulous tights. the more fabulous the better for stepping out my 8th floor window onto the roof of the building next door!

5)

no plastic bag is safe around me. they are all folded into triangular submission. i can't help myself.

6)
well... apparently i own too many pyjamas. well, naysayers, i couldn't find a pair to take a picture of so i don't know what you're talking about!

TAG!!!

Mood Swings

this morning i was really sad, still am a little. i woke up to watch the daily show with jon stewart and there was a piece there about a katy, a town in texas. the small muslim community there wants to build a mosque and the residents of katy are protesting against it. apparently a mosque will make katy a hotbed of terrorism. one neighbour came up with the brilliant idea of holding pig races every friday night to celebrate the american way. of what, i am not really sure but you know it is easy to be gung-ho about murky issues. so whoop! let's go pig racing. a few people interviewed made statements about not wanting "those kids" in their schools, or how it's just not right. one man said that this could be solved the old-fashioned way - just give me a rope... and a tree (can' forget that tree). the guy who hosts the pig races ended his interview by saying he was upset when folk called him racist. get it right folks, he wants to be called a bigot - that is what he is.

i came to work to read an uk guardian article about zimbabwe. nothing i had not read before (except that peter godwin of mukiwa fame has written another memoir). but the reader comments were so disheartening with references to savages, the imf and sudan.

all this and i wonder why the world is not more like a coca cola commercial. is it the corn syrup that they load in these days that is keeping us from having a coke and a smile? nope, now instead i see ads for kleenex with people crying on street corners, reaching for tissue. let it all out, they say.

i'm trying to decide whether i am going to regress to irene cara what a feeling buoyancy (leg warmers and sweatband required) where pretty much all current affairs should be ignored or opt for twisted sister we're not gonna take it anger (i may still need the sweatband). cos the kleenex is making my nose hurt.

It's All My Fault

since i was about 18 maybe a little older, perhaps a little younger, i have been angry with fashion. first it was sundresses. i mean those strappy tops? where was my bra supposed to go? many a time i threatened to go without and show the world! but fear of my mother's wrath kept me in unfashionable tops or t-shirts under the sundresses.

then i discovered the strapless bra and forgot the battle. and now?

the dresses i see in the store windows would look better on my teenage brother than they could ever hope to look on - if i could squeeze them over my ever-expanding hips. plunging necklines, strappy tops, non-existent backs. what the hell? and the models wearing them in the magazines and on the catwalks - i am trying to figure out if designers want them to look like little girls or teenage boys. either way my way out of puberty self is screwed. i look around and i know i am not alone. and i am not even going to discuss what this fashion says about what we are supposed to find desirable.

so this is what i get. when you give up the fight, it emboldens the enemy or at least the mindless designer. and so for this, for dropping the ball, i say - i apologise.

It Was the Best of Times; It Was the Worst of Times

so i popped over to detroit this weekend. my first visit to detroit, which will be my excuse for why i went now and not in, say any other time. my flight out of new new york was delayed by two hours due to windy conditions at laguardia. and they kept us going. first the flight was delayed by just a couple of minutes, then an hour and then as that hour neared its end, the departure time changed by the minute, and never in a good way.

i woke up this morning to freezing rain in detroit - and tried to walk out of the building. but nothing was salted and there were icy stairs to navigate. my two friends and i walked to the top of the first stare but there was no way we were taking the stairs. that would be like bungee jumping without a rope. luckily there was a ramp to the side that we slid down. we held on to each other for dear life as we slipped across the car park to a totally iced out car. we sat inside the warming vehicle as our heroic hosts scraped the car. i felt bad for them but stayed in the non-slippery, dry and warm car. i took the time to work on the right words of admiration for their great window-scraping skills.

we get to the airport and flight after flight has been cancelled and there are super-long lines waiting to check in because, well, because there are dozens of computer self-check-in booths all over the place but only for those with no luggage to check in. now, tell me, with all the new rules on all the things that are not allowed on a plane, who really has no luggage to check in? apparently no one because every one of those booths was free. there was no way i was going to make my flight if i stood in line. i found an agent who said, well we do not bump anyone up in line so you will just have to stand in line and take the next available flight. this to someone who has just seen that already two flights to new york have been cancelled? i tried to go to skycap to check in but i just missed the deadline for that check in. i find another agent and am told to get in line for those who have to rebook because they have missed their flight. yeah... guess how long that line was. and the woman behind me was trying to get to new york too.

screw it! i went over to the computer booth and checked in, with no carry on luggage. i left my bag behind in detroit, with plans to pick it up from boston next month (a friend will take it there, thanks!) and dashed through security. did i say dashed? i meant, i tried to dash but was pulled aside to be searched. turns out i had forgotten the south african chutney, indian chutney and jamaican jerk sauce that i picked up at world market and thrown into my bag. apparently they qualify as liquids and are too large to be allowed onto a plane. yeah, the thought of that loss brings tears to my eyes still - it is too soon.

then i ran like the wind from security to gate 28. i caught the last few folk boarding the flight and sat down, relieved and ready to go home. and sat. and sat. for an hour and a half. icy conditions. and then the bumpiest take-off and touch down i have experienced in a while. i was feeling really nauseated and felt worse when i got to the bathroom and was the first to discover that the plumbing was frozen. well, technically maybe second but the first person did not think to tell anyone. did i mention the sinus/tension headache? can those things be caused by flight delays?

oh right... and then there was the phone call from my across-the-hall neighbour telling me that my downstairs neighbour had a leak coming from, she believed, my bedroom. yeah, so my flight was filled with thoughts of getting home to a waterlogged home. i was trying to remember what electrical appliances and wires were plugged in and on the floor. i promised myself that i would get renter's insurance.

silver linings:
i got to new york. which is more than some might be able to say today.
my two neighbours - right next door and across the hall popped into my apartment to make sure nothing was amiss (with the intention of fixing anything that was). thankfully nothing was leaking but they are still my heroes.
i had an fabulous time in detroit.

now that i have slept/drugged off the headache, it really was a great weekend.

UPDATE: there IS something going on with my radiator, i just found out this morning as i came into my room to find water pooled around said radiator. sigh...

Never Good Enough

a couple of months ago, an amazing thing happened. my roommate's book was published. to say that, it's such a simple word that comes nowhere close to describing exactly what it means. let me try:

it starts with a short story, much like several others that you have written before. but then after you are done you don't feel like you're done. "maybe i'll write a novella," you suggest to your roommate, probably just because she is there. because you have already decided, inspired by jamaica kincaid, that is what you are going to do. but as you write, you find that you have more to say. and, well, because you are so darned disciplined, you set out a timetable and make notes and sit down and type away.
and just when you think the hard work is done, you realise that you have barely begun. there is the editing, the dealing with the horrible red pen marks that pandave insisted on putting on your manuscript - gawd, can someone say anal about grammar? and then more edits, and the mostly pointless criticisms from people who did nothing more than read your blood, sweat and tears.
and then you think, this must be it. but nope. because then you have to get your hustle on to get that book in print, to get the amazing book cover, to finally decide on a title (the one you began with in the first place), to put everything together and stick to the publishing date of 1 december 2006. to do interviews, to get reviews, to accept reviews without stabbing the rude and those who clearly just missed the whole point. and still she goes on and on like that totally annoying energiser bunny. interviews, book club meetings, submissions for competitions. whew, i'm tired!

and for two months i sat about wondering, pondering, thinking. being totally overwhelmed by the amazing and trying to come up with a way to put words to it, something good enough, something to show how much in awe i am of all that i have had a front row seat to. but i couldn't come up with anything good enough. for weeks, i had the picture of the book cover, and that was not even my idea. but now i see that it will never be good enough, but it will be the best i can do. that must be worth something, no kai?

P.S. - i blush... all of that and did i mention that the book is great? ohwhatagooseiam!

Revelations

over the last few weeks, one thing has become patently clear: i am not now, nor will i ever be, a morning person.
add in winter temperatures and that whole darkness when you wake up nonsense and... disaster.

since the beginning of the year, i have been going for physiotherapy before i go to work. i start work at 9am and physio is 2 hours long. yeah... one hell of an early wake up. silver lining - mild winter. neutraliser - sun still takes its time about rising, regardless. oh and then i am at work until late, i drag myself home and my eyeballs are too burnt out for me to do much more than be tired and hungry when i get home. i barely read the news (not such a bad thing, cos it's not like there's a lot of good stuff out there these days), i barely blog (a terrible thing cos i am missing out on so many wonderful stories every day) and get next to nothing done (pretty much how things have always been but at least i read the news and blogged back then in the 06's).

my early mornings have made me a totally caffeinated grouch. i spend the entire day trying not to fall asleep at my desk and being more crotchety than a sleepy baby and a bitter old man put together. my poor co-workers. i think i'll take them chocolate tomorrow. and do you know what i think about at any given moment? my greatest desire? a massage to rid my shoulders of the incredible pain and then about a week of sleep. just turn me over occasionally so i don't get bed sores but let me sleep and sleep and sleep. in fact, i can pass on the massage - just hit me over the head so i can sleep and sleep and sleep. and when i wake up, please may someone have come into power who decrees that the day shall begin at 10 am. earliest.

and my sister gets up at 3 am for the morning milking of the cows. totally chirpy. go figure.

Stranded!

okay so, i am told that the united states of america is the most powerful nation in the world. i mean in every shape way and form (except when it comes to running marathons). but you name it - going to war, hundred metre dash, best film in a foreign language? usa! usa! usa!

then why the hell is the exchange rate of the us dollar to the british pound 2:1? how does that make sense? europe is doing the us because buying a plane ticket, vacationing and going on a shopping trip in new york is a much better deal than shopping at home. and me? i am planning a trip to england (and other parts europe, if it is affordable) and i want to weep. i am not sure i shall be able to afford to leave the airport.

my first trip in that direction is planned (fingers crossed et al) for april so i am praying very hard that i win the lottery. that windfall of american dollars just might get me a bar or two of cadbury's chocolate...

Oooh Lordy My Troubles So Hard...

i just came back from my annual trip to harlem. every year, around this time, i head uptown... way uptown... to watch a film, generally attended by the filmmaker and followed by a panel discussion. all in celebration of black history month. tonight the film was liberia, america's stepchild. it was a documentary. a well documented documentary with an impressive amount of footage. i mean there was footage where you would not imagine anyone would want to take a picture, let alone shoot a video. child soldiers, a mutilated samuel doe and subversive politics. as the light's came up i commented to my friend "wow, what a depressing film!"

i need a stiff drink right now. darn it! i wish i had figured out how to smuggle the bottle of rum out of the pre-show reception. my advice to you. well worth the watching. really is. but, pack a drink or two.

Geography Is Important

so today i am reading my morning "newspaper" (primarily source for crosswords and sudoku) and i came across:

"as a celebrity, you can really make people aware of what's going on in the world." paris hilton, on how she plans to go to africa sometime this year.

and i say - you go girl. all these little towns in america, i think it is admirable that she is bringing attention to one. i mean, this must be where she is going to visit... perhaps it is somewhere near paris, texas. or maybe it is in a completely new state, or someone has decided to rename a town in honour of her impending visit. i have never heard of it and so i am so so happy that i am guaranteed learning something new before the year is out. and we know what a bad rep americans have for their allegedly poor knowledge of geography. i think it is great that she is working hard to make sure that she makes people aware of the world, one town at a time.

unless, of course, africa is a super-rich heir who she is planning on hooking up with later this year and she wants to make sure we get the whole story.

In Your Face Hallmark... It's Not About You... Right?

my dislike of valentine's day was created and nurtured by years in boarding school and those horrible who-got-the-most-cards competitions - whose sick idea was that anyway? though, as an aside, i must say one of the girls at school gave me a card i will never forget. she made it herself and inside it said "you make my heart sing!" since i was her senior and she needed to make sure she had a get out of detention free card, it was a very smart move. but that was too little, too late.

time has mellowed me out and i now am at the very least ambivalent about...
hell, who am i kidding. it's not even a real holiday - i still have to come to work. i mean shouldn't it be a day when you get to be with your beloved, be it a man, woman or popcorn and ice cream? last night i prayed that i would get snowed it so that the elements would force a holiday upon us. nope, instead i slippy-slided it into the office (i almost fell 6 times) while being pelted by ice from above. yes, ice... not snow.

highlight of my day?
i got to wear my WELLINGTONS!!! and i LOVE them.

to you all... may you spend quality time with your beloved today

Jill Came Tumbling After...

so, after my bookshelf confession, i was feeling all guilty and, even though it was past my bedtime and i had to be up before the sun, i decided to try do something about it. i had put the imminent collapse out there, the option was floating around and who knows what would happen if the bookshelf caught wind of it? so i went to the bookshelf and pulled a couple of books of the shelf.

disaster.

a shelf fell down, the back fell out, the bookshelf leaned even more to the right (i didn't even think it possible). i went all beyonce on it - to the left, to the left - to no avail. i quickly moved more books while pushing hard on the shelf to try to force it to the left. my living room swiftly became a sea of books but... the bookshelf did not fall down - hallelujah! but today i am shopping for a replacement. i am thinking lots of little shelves might be the way to go. apparently big shelf does not mean will take many books.