This weekend I discovered that Selena Gomez and Vanessa Hudgens are not the same person.  Also, I gardened the ass off of Saturday, apartment gardening having been replaced by courtyard gardening, next stop actual farming.

Also, I thought (and felt) a lot about loneliness.  And how to talk about it, write about it, swim through it.  More on that when thoughts have become sentences.

Also, I went to an ameezing Sunday afternoon Joburg rooftop party for a good cause.

Sometimes Joburg is a bad, bad boyfriend.  He forgets about you, is a bully or just plain ol’ doesn’t seem to care.  But then, out of nowhere he arrives with a bunch of ranunculus in the form of a glorious, windy, clear afternoon of good music and great company and suddenly, all is forgiven.  I heart you Joburg.

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Well Now

‘You should write about the top three real life animals that look like they’ve been photoshopped’, said my brother, Ty, last night over dinner.

He asked if I had seen the mantis shrimp, which I had not.  This creature’s limbs move so quickly that the water around them boils.  Animals are the best.

So is ‘Orange is the New Black’, who’s with me?!

I moved house.  Well, I moved flat.  From our beloved, noisy, terribly convenient flat in Illovo, to a huge, strange, wonderful space in Linden.  Two flats joined into one.  With wooden floors, a farm house kitchen with hand painted rabbit tiles (I’m not making this up), random Greek style pillars scattered about and a room with a roller shutter door that comes secretively out of the wooden  door frame.  No wonder it was available.  Moving house is a strange, unnerving past time.  Nothing is where it should be.  For two days three of you are eating off of one plate, with a wooden spoon.  And hail sounds different.

But like any change, you get to chuck out the old, celebrate the new and cherish the things that remain, change after change, just the same.

I turned 33.  Which means I was 13 TWENTY years ago.  It also means that I got a record player from my ameezing friends.  And so now my American Horror Story/New Girl house is endlessly filled with the croonings of Frank Sinatra and The Beatles and Janis Joplin.  A note on vinyl, the two that I have recently store bought skip terribly, but the vinyls from my grandmother (40 years or so old) play perfectly to the end.  They really don’t make them like they used to.

Recently, through a series of surreal events, I met a famous person.  And then I made two mistakes.
1.  I was so determined not to come across as a mega fan girl that I said hi, interrupted him mid- sentence and then ran away to get a drink.  In the opposite direction of the bar.
2.  Later I called him by his TV character name.  Twice.

Dear friends, please please learn from my looniness.  If I could do it again (which seems likely because meeting famous people happens all the darn time) I would just.stand.still, say hi and then make conversation about anything, everything. Things! Oh man.

Here now, the mantis shrimp:

More on this gorgeous creature, the source of this pic and all your mantis shrimp info needs here.


[Thank you Adi Koen for the birthday bicycle picture.]

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