When we were young

Here are three photos from the third roll of film from my new/old camera.  They make me think that when we are all 107 and sitting on the porch in our hover rockers, watching our grandkids playing Hide and Seek on their hover scooters, I will remember back to these photos and how young we looked and how much story had been and was still to come.  Then I’ll probably zoot inside on my hover rocker, make some tea and write a quick post about being young and life lived.  On my hover laptop, no doubt.

Lovely Aadil


Lovely Jacqui


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Jack Jack, the owl and the spritz bottle.

These are my brother Ty’s cats Jack Jack (white head) and Belle (brown head).  They are ex-orphaned brother and sister saved from certain death and a building site in Durban.  Belle is nimble and clever and quiet and loving and Jack Jack, well, he is bold and brash and clumsy and gets himself into all kinds of trouble.  So much so that he is no longer allowed to go for walks alone.  Now,  Ty and him go wandering around the parking lot and gardens every evening together.

A few nights ago, they were on their walk, Ty, water spritz bottle in hand (incase Jack Jack started any fights with other cats).  Ty looked up and suddenly noticed an owl gliding downwards from the dark sky and then gliding, silently across the parking lot.   At this point Ty thought, ‘hey, there’s a bird of prey’.  The owl glided straight past him and just before it reached Jack Jack it elongated its claws, like it was ready to catch a fish.  (Think the eagle in that terrible whiskey commercial).  And then, much to Ty’s horror, tried to pick up Jack Jack.  He said it made a loud clicking sound.  Ty got such a shock he started spritzing it with the water bottle.  It took off again (thankfully leaving Jack Jack where he was), circled above them for a bit and then sat in a tree and watched Ty trying to coax Jack Jack out from under a car.

My mom, who is a very clever lady, has a theory that the owl had babies somewhere near by and was warning Jack Jack not to get up to any funny business.

Whatever the reason,  Jack Jack’s life continues to be an adventure.  Ameezing.

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Sparkly Vampires and hairless Werewolves

On the weekend we went to a dress-up birthday party where the theme was ‘Anyone from the last thirty years’.  Aadil and his friend Gareth went as Edward and Jacob from Twilight. I was super proud to be Team Jacob. They were a hit at the party.  Ameezing.

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Any day now…




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Starry Night

A car showroom that I went to yesterday was advertising bullet proof windows.  The way the glass had shattered in layers was eerily beautiful and made me think of Van Gogh’s ‘Starry Night’.

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Hi ho, hi ho…

I look for things for a living.  I could romanticise it and say I create imagined worlds in which anything is possible.  But truthfully, I spend my time looking for stuff, all kinds of stuff.  From coffins to hundreds of plastic flies to livestock milking machines to be turned into man nipple milking machines (“Tired of your current insurance company milking you for all you’re worth?”).  If ‘Where?’ is the question I can scout out the answer.

When you’re sourcing something you become, for a day or two at least, a pseudo expert on the thing you’re looking for.  Normally your crash course comes from the actual expert and you learn by asking questions.  The secret is remembering the answer. ‘No, you can’t get it in orange!?  That part comes from America.  They only come in pairs.  I only have the one.  It will never hold a camera.  This fish can survive in different water for 6 hours’.

Yesterday I went looking for cars, cool cars.  I like car people.  And the fascinating appreciation they have for an industry that I don’t really know much about.  One car salesman said to me, ‘Why’d they send you, love?’

Here are some of my finds.

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Purple is not just for dinosaurs

It’s Jacaranda season.  Joburg’s not so indigenous way of wooing us by saying, ‘Look, I’m awesome, winter was just a long forgotten bad dream’.  And for the most part, it works like a charm.  Trees that seem long dead suddenly sprout strange purple flowers straight from their dry branches like funny, little half cousins of the cherry blossom.  Between the jacarandas, the lush green tree-lined streets and the ameezingly clear blue skies, Joburg must be in love, because she sure is glowing.

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Snazzy shoes and a little faux nudity

Tuesday morning breakfast.

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Of inking and fairy lights

This weekend I got a tattoo and had a 30th birthday party.  In that order.  And boy, were they both fun experiences.  The tattoo, I guess as with a 30th birthday, has been a long time coming.  I’ve spent more than a decade talking about getting one.  And as I reached 30 I suddenly realised the time was now or never.  And never sounded like being a regret-filled scaredy cat.  I was super nervous, but weirdly the huge, very tattooed tattoo artist and his heavy metal music made me feel completely calm.  I told him afterwards that if any girl asks how sore it is, he could tell them to divide a brazilian wax by 5.  He laughed and said, ‘They’ll want to know how I know that’.

Aadil also got his second tattoo.  To be super clear, it wasn’t a couple tattoo thing.  But it was great to have my beloved there.  His friend Gareth, the Ever lovely Lindsay and Little Lauren came along too.  I think that SA Hardcore Tattoos did not know what had hit them with a little group of super excited girls oohing and aahing and taking photos to document the moment, all to the sounds of music that sounded like it was by a band called ‘I killed your Mom and I liked it’.  Ameezing.  I’m planning my next one already.

Saturday night, post tattoo, was the birthday party.  It was a magical, amazing night which started with friends, cocktails and rockband.  And ended with friends, cocktails, rockband, ameezing presents, performance art on the dance floor and a midnight swim.  I am so so grateful to friends, brothers and my beloved who made it all possible.  From play lists to potato salads to fairy light rigging to venue lending to present organising.  Thank you Ameezing Urban family.

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The Postman never rings twice…

Whilst my inbox is ever overflowing, this is my post box.  My actual post box.  My, how times have changed.

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