Do you ever...

Do you ever feel like you do all the work? It seems as though, lately, whenever I walk into the manager’s office she is playing Free Cell. Or when there’s an order to be done, she hands it to me and carries on with Free Cell. Or she is gone for half of the day to go to the bank (translation: she has gone to get her nails done). She’s really sweet and we get on etc, but I sometimes wonder if she’s a bit lazy... or if I’m just a bit ambitious.

Today was one of those days. We were the only 2 in the shop – all other colleagues on holiday or have the day off. She had another "emergency" (picking up sister’s report from school), so I was left by myself. I arranged for my husband to come so I wouldn’t be alone, but he was having our piece of junk car fixed. Maybe I don’t realise how much happens during a day at work, but having to handle everything by myself was rather taxing – all phonecalls, all customers, all quotes, all queries. I feel like I’ve worked for HOURS.

As soon as I had thought I’d finished everything, something else came up. And then something else. And so, I am writing this while still procrastinating about that stationery order that is incomplete. I’m leaving that for Monday though. Laziness loves company.

Am SO looking forward to this weekend. I've had too many late nights this week. So tomorrow I can sleep late AND we are going clothes shopping with birthday money!

All this random dribble when my friend Mrs M is about to leave the country. Work and life seems a little insignificant at the moment compared to this looming major event. In a way I am glad I am not there to see her off. I don’t think I would be able to handle it. Having to watch as your very good friend of so many years walks through the gate to board the plane to America forever… I’m not sure my heart could hold it. I hope I am not making the farewell more painful for you Mrs M… I am SO very pleased that you got your Visa and that you will FINALLY be able to see your husband.

I'm just gonna miss you, that's all.

:(

Mrs M is my hero

I’ve had such a magnificent day today. My husband has pulled out ALL the stops to make my day unforgettable. Not only did he arrange a surprise birthday party for me on the weekend (without me knowing about it! Which is RARE – I have a radar of note), but he got up at 4:30 this morning to prepare a delectable dip for an array of exotic fruits (cherries, strawberries, kiwis, grapes etc) for breakfast. He decorated the house with balloons and got me the most amazing gifts. A good book, a gift voucher for a reflexology treatment at a spa place, a new pair of running shorts etc etc. All of them were thoughtfully selected as only my husband can.

Then at work I was sung to and had a peppermint cream cake bought for me. And I got lovely gifts from my colleagues! Not to mention the numerous SMSes and Facebook messages.

I went home for lunch excited as to what delicacy my wonderful husband was whipping up. He handed me a Fast Mail envelope on the way to the flat. I saw it was Mrs M’s handwriting. I was really touched that she had gone to the effort of writing me a nice card. I carefully opened the pink envelope and studied the cute picture on the front of the birthday card. The card felt fat, as if she had put something extra into the card. I opened it up and there it was. After waiting for 7 months, sending people and going back to the wretched place over and over, trying in vain to phone them over and over, and literally having to put my life on hold, I was finally holding it in my hand. My green ID document with my married name.

I SCREAMED!

Literally screamed. My husband was shocked at my outburst, people were staring… But I didn’t care. Mrs M. You are my hero today. I just had no idea. I thought I would be waiting at least another few weeks. I just can’t believe I have that thing in my hands at last.

Mrs M – THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU!!

Just when I thought things couldn’t get any better, you trumped it. I love you!! This has been the best birthday of my entire LIFE!

25

So I’m 25 today.

*Gnome pauses for this to sink in*

I’d be lying if I said I really care about how old I am. I don’t really. Some people have mid-20s crises when they hit 25. Suddenly they think they are old. They take stock of their lives and wonder what they have accomplished in the first quarter of their lives on earth. I think I’ve done pretty well. Maybe not in the eyes of the world. I mean, I don’t own a car (anymore…), or a house, or even a flat; I don’t have a fantastic job that fulfils me and allows me to bring home buckets of cash (who does anyway). But I do have some other “things” that I am proud of.

I think I am a really good and loyal friend. I think I am accepting and caring and loving. I think I have a compassionate heart, and a good brain. Even though I am not a success story by the world’s standards, I am really very proud of the person that I am. Through all the experiences in my life, I have arrived at 25 with a positive attitude, a number of good friends, and very few regrets. I am a good wife, a good daughter, a good sister, a good friend.

I am proud of you, Gnome. Cheers to your 25th Birthday!

A Christmas Story

For the first time since Primary School I got to dress up as an angel for a Nativity play at church*. I’ve always been an angel. I was never one of the lucky ones that got to be an important character like Mary or even a shepherd. I think it was cause I was shy. The shy people always get to be angels. Nevertheless, I got to wear little wings and sing Christmas carols. It was great. Until “Away in a Manger”. The piano sounded the little introduction, I took a big breath and started.

“Away in a manager, no crib for a bed…”

I only realised too late that nobody was actually singing. Except me! The camel that was standing in front of me turned around so abruptly, and stared at me as if I had just committed an unforgivable sin.

“Stop singing!” He hissed.

My voice died in my throat and I tried to curb the heat rising in my cheeks. The piano started again and I tentatively sang – trying to blend in with the rest. By the time "The First Noel" came along I felt less embarrassed, and started to hope that perhaps people hadn't really noticed. It was finally during "Good Christians Men Rejoice" that I was over it. I sang the last song, "Joy to the World" with much gusto.

Maybe next time they'll let me be a shepherd.

*Since there were a lot of carols that needed to be sung, we were roped in to help the kids with the singing.

Thanksgiving

Today is Thanksgiving. In the States anyway. I think it’s a great day though – a time to reflect on what we are thankful for. And to eat loads and loads of yummy food and not feel bad. But before we get to that, here are some interesting links:

Whew. Thanks to Toby for an excellent discussion on religion. Check it out here.

Then I’ve been meaning (for weeks) to help Louisa out. Instead of writing a post about it myself, here is the link to Louisa’s blog – check it out!

My American friend tells me that at Thanksgiving lunch, everyone gets a chance to say one or 2 things that they are thankful for that happened in the last year. Right now I can think of A LOT more than a couple, but here are the most significant ones:

I’m really thankful that I have a job. I know I complain often about it, but I really do appreciate that I can earn an honest living*.

I am so incredibly thankful that I got married this year. This has not been an easy year for my husband and I, but it has been super blessed because we’ve had each other. We have grown so much closer in these few months of marriage. I understand him loads better now. Not only him, but I understand myself so much better now too.

I am thankful for the all the experiences this year has thrown at me because it has brought me closer to God. Through the struggles, through my friends, through our YA group, through worship team at church, through colleagues… It just seems that during this whole year, all roads lead to God.

I think it’s of great value to take a minute and just reflect on those things that happened to you in the last year that you are thankful for.


Happy Thanksgiving!

*Plus heard yesterday that the new company is coughing up for the medical aid! They will pay the outstanding difference, so all in all there will be no difference in what I take home at the end of the month. A real relief. Even though after worrying for a few days I gave that up and decided to just trust that everything would be OK. And it was. Yay!

Survivor

Go Yul!

I was really pleased when Yul Kwon won Survivor Cook Islands on last night’s show. Even though it’s like such old news for the rest of the world, South Africa finally got to see the 13th season. I didn’t follow this one as much as I did the seasons before that. It’s somehow lost its novelty and appeal for me a little bit. I only like to see the last few episodes to see who wins the million.

But I LOOOVE the reunion show. We’ll get back to that in a sec.

Some people just aren’t that into Survivor because people lie and cheat and back stab and fight and all that jazz. I’m by no means an advocate for lying and backstabbing, but all’s fair within the context of the game. It’s really just strategy. You can’t be on Survivor and expect to go through the whole thing without the slightest untruth ever crossing your lips. It is a game, after all, not real life, and one where the prize is a rather substantial amount of money. I don’t blame them in the least for being a tad bit morally challenged and selfish. The same goes for those watching. Don’t expect a show reflecting impeccable values. It’s about outplaying, outlasting and outwitting the rest. If you don’t like it, don’t watch it.

So back to the 13th season, Cook Islands. What I really liked about this season was the friendship between the Aitu 4 (Yul, Becky, Ozzy & Sundra). They really were the underdogs and just rose beautifully above the rest to become the final 4. It is rather uncharacteristic for Survivor to breed an alliance of such a nature within the game – I mean, one that lasts as long as this one did, and exists between a number of people. Alliances usually break apart when the million is within reach. But even when Sundra was outlasted by Becky in the fire making challenge, there just no animosity between them.

I think what draws me to this show and especially the reunion show is the tangible bond that is formed between all the people on the show. Regardless of whether you had an alliance with anyone (or no one), were voted out first, or were the antagonist of the show, you share a common experience with the rest. Being marooned on an island with 19 other people, forced to survive and compete against each other… That is an experience that only those few people can share with you. Only they can understand what it was like; only they can laugh at the personal jokes you shared during that time; only they can make you feel like you belonged there somehow.

When I was in Germany after school I took part in 4 month course with a bunch of other people. We did everything together. We lived in the same building, ate the same food, went to the same classes, went to the same parties, saw each other from morning til night. When I had to leave that place I cried harder than I ever had before. It was such an amazing experience to share the same circumstances with people. We had so many personal jokes, and just a common understanding about things. On the verge of leaving I realised the tragedy of it all: this was the last time we would be together like this. Things would never ever be the same again – even if we would see each other again, it would be in a different context…

When I watch the Survivor reunion show I get this feeling again – this hint of the bond that they share(d), and somehow I long for that. I long for a community.

Pillow Talk

The most profound conversations seem to happen in the dying minutes of our waking hours. While my husband tries (in vain) to look for stars though the open window, and I fight with the duvet and pillows for the most comfortable spot, we seem to veer into realms of existential and profound discussions.

At times we’ll talk about theology or psychology. Often we discuss people. Our friends, our enemies. We try to figure out what makes them tick, what effect their pasts have had on their present. We try to understand people’s behaviour, their personalities, their reactions. Sometimes we get angry and say nasty things which we later regret and retract… But mostly we are trying to figure people out – fit all the wayward pieces of the puzzle together.

A lot of the time we are trying to figure ourselves out. We talk about our past, our deepest hurts, our sadness, our weaknesses, our spiritual journeys; our frustrations, our joys… We try to make sense of our moods, thoughts and emotions. We encourage each other, support each other, we hold hands and say how proud we are of each other and how much the other has to offer the world. We are mirrors to the other – gently exposing areas that need work, and encouraging each other’s strengths. I get my hair stroked and he gets his back scratched.

This is what I love about marriage. This is exactly what I signed up for when I said “Yes” to him. I can’t even imagine my life without these magic times…

The Christmas Party

My husband and I approached the whole Christmas party thing without expecting much. I wore my jeans and a smartish top, and decided last minute to apply a thin layer of makeup. We arrived to a table sprinkled with Christmas crackers and sweeties and other goodies. And to the news that the restaurant we were supposed to go to was full (turned out to be a matric dance), so we were relocated another. Which wasn't bad - had a great view, comfy chairs... Nonetheless, due to this "inconvenience" my colleague's husband managed to get us a good deal (and all)*. Instead of the simple 2 course meal (starters and main) we had settled for, we were going to get all that PLUS dessert and drinks (beer, champers, wine) on the house.

After the initial pleasantries, the beginning minutes were a bit awkward. You know how you're trying to size up everyone's partners... And nobody really knows what to talk about. And you don't want to be the idiot who talks about work. There were a few tense silent moments... But I tell you, as soon as the starters came, and the wine and beer started flowing things got a little... more relaxed.

A lot more.

The food was just magnificent. Even though we couldn't pronounce what we were eating (vindaloo, jangari, paneer, poppadoms etc etc), and mostly had to wave around wildly to have the various dishes passed around to us, the unique and exotic flavours of this Indian cuisine were just so delicious. I completely overindulged.

As for the company and conversation, things just got better and better. Towards the end of the evening we were laughing non-stop. It was so bad at some stage that it felt like I had done 500 sit-ups, and my jaw was aching worse than it had on our wedding day. Granted, as time wore on (and the wine flowed), so the conversation seemed to dip lower and lower below the belt...

I can't remember when last I laughed so much, and when last I had so much fun with a bunch of people that really accept me. Most of the today was spent reminiscing about memorable moments, good food, and the hilariousness of it all.

*Indians always know how to get a deal.

Christmas Party and More

I'm looking pretty cute today.

Got my little red and white Christmas hat with fake white hair extension braids sticking out on either side. Hats suit me I think. My husband thinks I look cute - like a German. The only uninvited guest on my face at the moment is a horrible pimple. As usual it has come at the wrong time: our Company's Christmas Party is tonight. Nothing concealer can't fix though.

Still deciding what to wear. Don't wanna pitch up looking too formal, but on the other hand your colleagues have only ever seen you wearing your work shirt. In a way you do want to make a bit of an impression. Like, this is the real Gnome. Better pluck my eyebrows. And should I wear makeup? I hardly ever do. Only for special occasions. Does this count as such an occasion?

Sat for a long time studying the menu of the place we're going to tonight. We had to give our orders in this morning already. You have to be careful of your choices. You don't want to choose something that could be potentially embarrassing - such as prawns or chicken or something that you would have to approach with knife and fork, and then have to leave a lot of the meat on the bone. Rather get something you can just shovel down and make sure you use all the money the stingy company has allocated to you.

I've always had trouble choosing what to eat. Once I find a good dish I seem to stick to it. Which is so boring! I wish I was more adventurous with my food choices... I've become rather dependent on my husband when it comes to choosing dishes. He seems to know exactly what I want. He makes deciding what to eat so much easier. He's totally taken to the whole cooking thing as well. I hardly ever cook anymore. The only thing I make is salad. I really bagged a winner. *Gnome is so proud of her choice of husband*

So my colleague wanted to know if I've got any good jokes for tonight. God forbid I'd have to tell a joke. I am so bad, and when I try, they ALWAYS fall flat and people just don't laugh. Cringe. Luckily our one colleague is a bit of a loud mouth, so rest assured, we won't have to make too much needless conversation. I'm actually just there for the food after all.

My faith

Recently I have been thinking a lot about prayer and it’s power. We had a discussion about a week ago with a couple of people about prayer. 2 people in particular expressed the view that they did not think prayer was at all effective – and that it’s only power lay in its psychological value for those praying, or those being prayed for. It’s funny how their condescending tone just made me more sure about my faith.

My faith is weak at best. I doubt, I struggle, I veer off the path, I forget to trust, I do things in my own strength. Mostly I struggle with the issue of healing. Why does God heal some and not others? Why do some suffer so much, while others don’t? Why does a loving God allow innocent and even faithful people to suffer, while He chooses to heal others?

I don’t have any answers to all these difficult questions. All I can say is what I feel – and that is that God is there and that he loves us more than we can ever imagine or understand with our human minds. When I speak to God there is more at work than just a psychological soothing of my wounds. I sense that there is so much more, I can nearly taste an immense joy that is veiled, waiting to be uncovered. Yet I am not sure I have been able to grasp the entirety of this miracle. Perhaps I am scared.

In prayer I am scared of being disappointed. Yet, at the same time I am stunned and ashamed at my audacity. Does God not know what is best for me? How can I claim to know what is best for me when I have such a limited view of the world, of my life, even of myself? Does God not answer my prayers in a way that is best for me? Often we only realise this later... Much later.

People often see religion as weak. "The opium of the masses". You cannot cope on your own, so you conjure up some god to lean on, and you pray to this conjured god to make you feel better. In my view, putting your trust in God; opening yourself up to being changed and healed; being yourself (despite your weaknesses and vulnerabilities) in front of God is anything but weak.

Mistakes and Consequences (and Money)

So I got a little irked today.

Don’t really wanna say too much about it, but it turns out my helping somebody has got me into a bit of trouble. The more I think about it, the more I realise that this really wasn’t my fault. I was just following orders. Then again, how far do you take the following orders excuse? How many Nazis were just following orders? How many people in Apartheid were just doing as they were told?

Oh my gosh.

I’m really being a little too melodramatic here. *Gnome tries to snap out of it* I mean, it’s not like I killed anyone or even that my actions led to any sort of grievous bodily harm whatsoever. Actually it probably just cost the company a little bit of money.

What little chance I had of ever winning the employee of the month award has just gone out of window I see. And with it the R 1 000 Pick n Pay voucher.

Damn.

I seem to have a bit of a track record when it comes to costing companies money. When I worked in England I would frequently* give people discounts (without their knowledge), or leave an item off “by mistake”. I just sometimes couldn’t stomach charging people SO much money for so little food. The prices there were horrendous – even for their standards. I sort of felt like a bit of a Robin Hood. I’m sorry, company in England, but you still made gazillions of pounds in profit at the end of the year (I read the year-end report), so I’m not wasting any guilt emotions on you.

But this time really wasn’t on purpose.

Although, if I could give people a discount I would (too bad I’m not authorised for those kinds of overrides). I find something so innately wrong with rich people making even more money to feed their opulent indulgences.

Speaking of opulent indulgences, I was utterly disgusted by a piece of news yesterday: a Saudi Prince (13th richest man in the world) has bought himself the world’s biggest plane (that seats over 500 people) for an unimaginable sum of money. Ironically enough, in the same news bulletin the headline was about the bread price, and how some people can’t even afford to buy this most basic of foods…

Kind of puts things into perspective a little bit...

*OK, it didn’t happen THAT often…

Decisions decisions

A week before our wedding, you would have expected our tensions to run high, our families to be disagreeing about flowers, decorations, guests and goodness knows what else. Weddings always expose the weak family bonds. In so many ways our wedding was perfect. My mom-in-law totally respected what I wanted. But since I often didn't know what I wanted she made really good suggestions. My mom also totally allowed me my freedom to choose exactly what I wanted. And my dad provided the finances*. So, very uncharacteristically, our families actually really get on, and our wedding was more of a strengthening of bonds exercise than one that blew the cover on strained ties. I love my family, and so does my husband. Just as I love my husband's family.

So Christmas time is upon us once again. When you're married, you always have to make the hard decision as to WHO you will spend Christmas with this year. Last year it was my husband's mom. So by rights it would have to be my family this year. Obviously we want to be with both. My sister might be leaving to go to Germany soon, my grandfather is getting very old, and I haven't seen my dad since Easter. And of course I always like seeing my mom. My husband's mom is all on her own though - she's basically only got her sister, as her other children all emigrated.

After much thought we decided that because of costs and other reasons** we would rather stay put and not see either of them.

But then last night my mom offered to pay for our flights to Cape Town. I was on the Internet the whole morning looking for suitable flights. Obviously airlines cash in at this time, and the prices are SKY HIGH (pun is intended). Even Nationwide - despite falling engines - has ridiculous prices. Eventually I found some flights with Mango, but the problem of my mom-in-law was still not solved. Our first thought was to get her down to CT as well, but the prices are sometimes even worse. It just wouldn't be worth it.

And so we were faced with a decision. My family, or my husband's family.

*SIGH* I hate being faced with these kinds of decisions. Because it's not like the one is more important than the other. Or that we love one more than the other. I've got a headache just thinking about it again. It's like choosing between an Oreo Cheese Cake and a Pecan Nut Pie. Both are just wonderful. But you have to pick one, since you can't have your cakes (both of them) and eat them.

After much phoning, deliberation, stress and prayers, we decided that the best would be to have my husband's mom come down to us for Christmas. I have peace about the decision, but still feel heart sore though, even though my mom was very understanding (Thanks Mom, love you).

I'm really very grateful that our families get on well, and that we don't have issues with the "in-laws", but at the same time I wonder if it's not equally challenging when you get on brilliantly with both of them (especially when you all live so far apart)...

*He even said he felt bad for not being more involved, and just being the guy who pays.
**I mean, who do you choose? You can't really choose between 2 families that are both so dear to both of you.

Happy birthday, Sister

No matter how much I was bossed around; no matter how many arguments we had; no matter how many angry words we screamed at each other; no matter how far away we are from each other at any point in time; there is no denying that there is a bond between my sister and I that I wouldn't trade for anything in the world.

With so many reasons to wear masks around friends and even family, it is a bit of an oasis to let my hair down with my sister. When you have lived in the same house with the same parents, growing up in similar environments, you develop a whole pallet of memories that are untouchable. Memories of good times, bad times... Just one word can sometimes jog a memory and have us both in stitches. Even though we are quite different, we understand each other. We understand our past.

This is such a priceless relationship for me, and perhaps I don't say this enough to you, dear sister. I love you so much. Happy birthday.

Personality test

Have you ever had your personality mapped out on a grid? It all seems so simple when you look at that line - rising and falling according to your different traits... Your personality a bunch of peaks and troughs.

I did the test about a year ago - it was part of our marriage prep. But since pastors are very busy people, we only received the results last night. I was rather surprised at some it... Instead of the calm, tranquil and relaxed person I thought I was, the test reflected that (at the time of the test), I was rather nervous and anxious. Perhaps the stress of organising a wedding was getting to me? Or the worry of what I was going to do with my life after the wedding; the weight of having to be the bread-winner without the surety of a stable job...?

Another surprising trend was the high score I got on the depressive scale. I thought I was much more optimistic than the threatening line suggests. Perhaps this was due to the same reasons as mentioned above?

The rest was rather predictable. And pleasant. Except the submissive scale. Yes. News flash. I am very submissive. According to my personality trait test from last year that is. My husband was rather quick to point out that I am most definitely not submissive with him. But I know this is something that I have to work on. I am sometimes a bit of a push over. And a people pleaser. I don't say no as much as I should. And I often don't have the courage to tell my closest friends how I really feel. Yay for blogs for helping me express myself without having to do it face to face.

But I do think I have changed in the past year. A lot. I've been forced to be more assertive. I have to phone people to tell them to pay their accounts for crying out loud. And I got married. Marriage tests you, and stretches you and brings out the best and the worst in you. Marriage is the biggest life lesson, second only to having children (I assume).

It's funny... I think a year ago I would have probably taken this test very seriously. Now I kind of take from it what is useful to me. I see it more like a snap shot of how I felt that day, not a condemnation of all that I should improve. I mean, of course you can always improve, but somehow I seem to be at peace with who I am at the moment. Faults and all.

Mmh. It feels really good to say that.

Turmoil

I don't feel like being serious today.

I had some very bad news on the weekend about a friend of my aunt's that was raped and murdered in her home. And my manager's nephew was shot in the stomach by robbers and subsequently died in hospital. Sometimes the evil in the world becomes so overwhelming you just want to shut it out and live in a bubble. A bubble where you can believe that you are immune to such trauma. I hate suffering. My whole being rebels against it. I just want to make things better. I want things to go back to the way they were. I want people to laugh and be carefree.

This weekend I realised that it's more than that. Suffering chills me to the core because I fear it above all else. I fear pain. Physical, emotional. My own pain, the pain of those that I love. Sometimes when I close my eyes I try to imagine what that pain would feel like. Just in case. To prepare myself. What it would be like to be raped... To be stabbed... To have a loved one torn from me... But I just can't bear it and push it from my mind. Maybe my inexperience with pain is the reason for my intense fear... The fear of the unknown.

Damn. And I didn't really want to be serious today.

Departures

So my favourite colleague handed in his resignation today. I'm rather sad. Not sure if it's because I'm a little jealous that he's moving up in the world, or because I have so much uncertainty in my life that I don't want the little comfort zone I have at work to be rattled in any way. I know change is inevitable, but I was hoping it would be change that I have control over. Like me moving. Not like a colleague (favourite at that) moving on to a better job. We always have so much fun together.

Maybe that's why I am sad. He was the only one at work I could really laugh with. I think I'm really going to miss him. Work will probably turn into a fairly dull affair. Even duller than it is at the moment.

It seems like a lot of people are leaving.

My good friend Mrs M is also nearing her departure. This has probably made my colleague's resignation so much more tangible for me. I hate saying goodbye. The people staying behind are always worse off than those that are doing the leaving.

My sister is probably leaving soon too. I don't really want to think about that right now. My aunt is leaving to go back to Germany in a few days. My grandfather is leaving for heaven sometime.

Apart from the fact that I will miss all these people dearly, the more I think about it, the more I realise that I dislike change. Change in things that are good already. I guess we're all like that in some ways. Scared of change. I hate that I like my comfort zones and my set ways. I want to be out of the box and different and adventurous. But here I am in my 8 - 5 lamenting change that I can't control...