More Ink, Shades of Disinterest, Witch Boobs and more

Holy Moses it's been a while - I last posted in May 2013!  Truth be told , as much as I have missed writing, inspiration has been seriously lacking. Time to catch up. I have crossed a few things off the list since we last chatted, so let me give you a brief summary - in no particular order of completion!  This could take a little while, so pull up a chair, make sure your glass is filled and your phone on silent!

FL No 17: Tattoo

Last you heard I had endured a gruelling 5 odd hour tattoo session getting my exquisite tiger tattoo done. After a couple of months it was beautifully healed and I went back for another 2 hour session getting a touch up.  Kak sore.  Seriously. I think the whole tattooing over already tattooed skin is an issue which I shall not been keen on repeating. However, and on the subject of repeating, in January I went for number 4!  I am so glad I found Jose cos this guy is an exceptional artist!  Truly.  He did some astonishingly lovely shading and I am now the proud owner of this beauty:

Just done!

It only took a few hours to do and healed in record time!  I am so ready for the next one!

FL No 28: Read the entire 50 Shades series

I tried. I really, really gave it my best shot. But I do not think I have ever read such shite in my entire life. Ever. Even skipping ahead to the "good" bits was a waste of time. Yawn.  So I made an executive decision, at around page 69 (hehehe), that

Consider this one done and over with. Moving swiftly on!

FL No 13: Go to an outdoor music festival

Rocking the Daisies.  It was to be my first outdoor camping festival ever and I was so hyped and excited. I think I picked the wrong festival, to be honest.  It pretty much consisted of weather colder that a witch's titty and approximately 16000 pissed/tripping/dof people running around in Onesies.  Although the campsite was fabulous (we booked in at Heartbreak Motel) and the music itself was brilliant, the whole experience left me sadly under-whelmed.   The weekend pretty much went like this:  Buy a drink. Drink it. Find a friend. Lose a friend. Buy overpriced food.  Eat it. Drink some more. Find another friend, drink with them and then lose them too. Have a Jagemeister. Find a friends. Buy an animal hat. Freeze. Drink. Freeze. Stand in a veritable mosh pit waiting for Skunk Anansie. Freeze. Leave said mosh pit and move to the fire pit to defrost. Head to the tent where Steve and I dressed in every single item of clothing we had packed, crawl under the blankets and wait for dawn.

I have been told, by those in the know, that the festival to go to is Up the Creek so I may try that next time. In the meantime, however, I can cross this one out.

No 40: Build a Sandcastle AND No 75: Swim in the sea during a rainstorm

Isn't it amazing how we set up great big exciting plans and nature turns around and says "OH HELL NO". During the first week of January the kids, Steve and I went camping in Langebaan.  Yes, on purpose. You wudda thunk I knew better right? Ulla and Berno (bless their cotton socks) joined us on the Saturday. It rained.  And rained. And rained.  Did I mention that this was January? In the Cape?  It rained. We managed to make a semi-sheltered area using a gazebo, painters plastic, an old tarp, arb pieces of plastic, a bucket and some other crap we scavenged.

So. Much. Rain.

At one (very) brief point there was a break in the rain and we all made a mad dash for the beach, shovel, winch and beers in hand - the plan was to build an epic sand castle.

Elaborate? Maybe not?  A castle? Open to interpretation. Sand? Indeed!

Don't judge.  After the exertion of building this superb specimen of sandcastle we headed into the water, laughing and frolicking (yes, I said frolicking) in the waves, when all of a sudden the water went extremely calm and the heavens opened.  What an incredible experience.  Standing shoulder deep in the calmest water, watching rain drops hitting the surface.  We stood there for a few minutes, completely mesmerized.   Until reality hit.  Our towels, our clothes, the last few items we had left which were not already soaked, were lying on the sand getting completely drenched. While it lasted, however, it was an almost ethereal spiritual experience which would have fit perfectly in some cheesy movie scene, but which we were blessed with. I therefore took the liberty of adding this experience to my Fucket List - No 75, done!

No 3: Climb a Mountain

Totally did this.  Almost died - true story - but did it! Lion's Head, let me just tell you, is not as little as it appears from your couch.  It is kak high and scary as shit! The truth - which no one tells you beforehand - is that you don't WALK up Lion's Head.  You climb the bloody thing.   How there aren't more people falling down the side to their death is beyond me.  One sunny Sunday, a few weeks ago, the fandamily, together with our beautiful friends Jules and Marina and their son Benjamin, took on this epic adventure.  DUDE!

There I stand - not a cooking clue what was ahead of me!

Huge props to Jules who carried Benjamin on his back all the way up that bitch!

At the top of Lion's Head

I managed to deal with the whole "going up" part of the climb without too much of an issue - it was the coming down nonsense which I struggled with. I am somewhat terrified of heights and ended up having a bit of a panic attack a few metres into our descent.  There I was perched on the precipice, convinced I was going to fall to my death, unable to move either up or down, convinced that I would require airlifting off the mountain with tears and snot streaming down my face.  Steve had to get all "tough love" on my ass and tell me to stop being such a bloody baby and to get myself down the mountain immediately.  I wiped away the tears, blew away the snot, put on my figurative big girl panties and tried not to be intimidated by the small children galloping past me as they made their way down the mountain. Little show offs! Needless to say I did not fall to my death.  I can, however, say that I am very unlikely to take on this particular challenge again any time soon.

Well my friends, that is all the update you are getting for now. Next Saturday - 5th April - sees us taking on the Impi Challenge in Stellenbosch. It would be fair to say that I am completely and absolutely excited and completely and absolutely terrified in equal parts. If you don't know what the Impi Challenge involves, have a look at this YouTube video!

Keep an eye out for the update on the antics of Team Weekend Warriors coming to a blog post near you!

T
x

Tie-dying skills and the birth of a Tiger

Like most things during the torturous transition from summer to winter, I have slowed the hell down.  Drastically.  We had plans to go up Lions Head (Item No 3) but it stormed.  Then we made another plan, but I slept instead. Hmmm - perhaps when the sun gets up earlier than I again, I shall tick this one off.  For now though, I stuck to a few things which can be done regardless of the weather.

Fucket List No 42: Make a tie-dyed something or other:

One of the things we do at work is host art & craft workshops for people with disabilities.  They had a big fat tie-dying session one Friday and there was a bunch of left over dye.  A few of my colleagues and I were offered the opportunity to get creative, which we jumped at!  So on a sunny(ish) Monday afternoon, we got together, plain white fabric in hand, ready to make art happen.  Here is how it happened in picture format.  (Yes, we are indeed wearing black rubbish bags - we are forward thinking fashionistas so back off!)

Listening attentively to the detailed instructions

Dip dip dip 

My slightly obscene looking soon-to-be art piece!

Nailed it!!

Ok so aside from the fact that there were a few comments about the fact that the red bits in the middle look like fleas (thanks Di) ..... or even sea lice (thanks Jared) .... I was pretty damn impressed with myself.

Sea lice.  Pfffft

Now it may be that I unlikely to make a living out of tie-dying stuff and selling it, but hey it was fun and I would totally do it again.  Maybe some socks next time ....

TICK!

Fucket List No 17 (sorta):  Have another tattoo (except it wasn't in colour)

Although I had initially decided on a pretty flower design which would incorporate colour and therefore allow me to tick this specific item off, I came across an entirely different design which appealed to me on so many levels that I had no choice but to ditch the blommie and go with it!

I could totally get into all the reasons this tattoo is appropriate and significant and has all sorts of deep meanings, but then the boys from Desmond & The Tutu's will take the mickey so let's just move on shall we!

With the help of one of those voucher thingies you can buy online, together with the contents of my piggy bank, I make an appointment with Jose at Davidson's Ink for 25th May.  He estimated that it would take around 3 and a half hours, with breaks, for the work to be done.

The night before I barely slept, plagued with nerves and thoughts of perhaps ending up with this on my body...

Finally morning dawned and my friend Gretchen and I headed off to Eden on the Bay.   5 hours (yes, FIVE hours) later, I hobbled out with my tattoo. I have to just interject that Gretchen was an absolute STAR.  Due to the location of this particular tattoo, at some points it hurt like a mofo - to the point of nausea!!  She talked me through it.  Literally.  In order to take my mind off the pain, she spoke and spoke and spoke about all manner of things.  From Alpacas keeping watch over little lambs, to a compressor she used to have for airbrushing; from a planned garage sale, to her car taking her hostage in a parking lot one afternoon.  The poor woman talked until she couldn't talk anymore - at which point she went and bought coffee and chocolate (essential for any traumatic event) and came back and talked some more! I am pretty sure that she spent her entire Sunday in complete silence, just to give her poor vocal cords a break!!

Some pics to give you an idea of how it went:

Not even a third of the way in -  but still felt strong at this point!

Jose doing his thing - painstaking careful precision work!

Shading done - all that's left is the tail.  This was  around the 4 hour mark! 

Boom! My Tigress was born!

Three days later I am still pretty tender, but absolutely thrilled with the final product.  I am trying to decide where the next one will be because - clearly - until I have one with colour, I cannot properly tick this item off the list.  So at this stage it gets half a tick! TI ....

As I read through the many remaining items on my list I am feeling a little uninspired .... time to jazz things up a little - maybe by adding a few more fun (easy) things to it.  Will have to give this some serious thought ............. watch this space! :)

T
X

Who The Hell Runs For Fun Anyway?

The hellishly long road to destroying FL (yes, Ulla, I know that FL is just wrong!!!) No 46: Run a (short) race is set out below.  So get comfy, make sure your cup and/or glass and/or bottle is full, check that the snacks are within easy reach and let's get on with it.

I have been in training. True story. Other people decide to run a half (eek) marathon of 21km or whatever and prepare by eating a plate of pasta, putting on some old takkies and running at the sound of the starter gun.  Not me.  Oh no.  I like and need to be a little more prepared.  My friends will tell you (and I may have mentioned this before) that I can be somewhat anal at times when it comes to planning and preparing for stuff!  What have I been training for?  To cross Fucket List No 46 of the list.  My 8km run. When I mentioned to a friend that I was planning on running 8km, his question was simple: "don't you have a car?".  Having said that, however, with the price of petrol these days I might very well have to resort to running to and from work each day - except its 60km a day!  Pffft!

So anyway, back to the training.  Rigorous and otherwise.  The 8km was scheduled to take place on 20th March and promised to be loads of fun (whatever) with my son signing on as my running buddy.  I started off my training with short runs - 10 minutes or so on the treadmill, working my way slowly up to 30 minute stretches.  By the beginning of March I had managed to get my distance up to 4.84km in 30 minutes before my knees gave in.  Still not 8km but getting there slowly!  I also had no choice but to come to the realisation that I am no longer a spring chicken.  The mind may be willing.  The lungs were even playing along.  But holy shit the legs were completely over this running crap - knee and hip joints moaning loudly!! 

One gorgeous cool evening I took to the road, Mojo at my side.  The dog, after about 10 minutes of pretty fast-paced running, sat down.  Just sat down.  He had had enough! There were no balls, parks or kids involved and anyway he was hungry and tired.  It took much cajoling to get him up and running again. For the remaining 15 minutes or so he alternated between running, sitting, walking, sighing, barking and trying to wiggle his head out of his collar!  Great running partner he was! NOT! 

Clearly I was a little delusional when, high on the fact that I was managing to clock a kilometre in 6:20, I signed up for the Spar 10km Women's Race on the 17th March.  Then preceded to panic. In-frikking-sane!

And because this wasn't enough, I decided to join the Edgemead Redsock Friday runners on the Friday just before the 10km Spar run .... for a quick 4km jog at 05h30 in the flaming morning!  So there I was, dressed in my sexy new black and lumo orange takkies, my knee high red socks, my black running shorts and my purple Chaeli Campaign running vest - my plan, it seems, was to ensure that I was visible.  Highly visible!  It was loads of fun though I have to admit.  There was an enthusiastic and partially loony crowd of about 30 odd runners - and off we set through Edgemead, one dude yelling shoOops over his bullhorn at regular intervals (which you can imagine must have pleased the sleeping  residents no end!).

Damon and I after the run .... and please note it is STILL dark!! 

The group of crazies causing havoc at dawn's crack!

With the success of my Friday run I was totally ready for Sunday!  I met up with my friends Ulla and Bella and we made our way to the start.  Holy shitsticks people there were tons and tons of women - and even some men dressed as women!  When the starter gun went off, it took us a full 10 minutes to shuffle to the starting position!! Aside from that, we totally bent the race over and made her our bitch!  Ok well in all honestly it went more like this: Bella has a pretty serious injury and she is only allowed to run 2 minutes, walk 5 minutes.  And that's what we did. It was actually quite lekker.  Very vibey and enjoyable - and not terribly tiring.  The last kilo or so we did give it horns, just so that we could get the heart rate up a bit.  Even taking into consideration the fact that we didn't run the entire way, we still did a reasonable time: 1:24 (then you still need to take the 10 minutes it took us to make our way through to the start off, so 1:14), with me coming 2635 out of more than 24 000.  Not too shabby I reckon!

Thousands and thousands and thousands of people!

No time for hair and make up - sorry peeps!

Very proud of our medals .... and a little peckish!

Two runs behind me, one to go.  I still had the 8km looming the next Wednesday.  By Sunday afternoon my left knee had pretty much stopped working properly and my right one was groaning madly!  Monday through Wednesday saw seriously liberal applications of Arnica and Reparil Gel in an attempt to perform miracles so that I could run - without further injury - on Wednesday evening.  That week's gym sessions involved no kicking or skipping or even much leg work - although clearly Divine made up for it in with upper body and ab workouts of note!!

And then there was Wednesday.  An 8km run for charity.  The one I had initially agreed to do when I started off this stupid bloody FL No 46!  And this where everything went slightly pear-shaped. Firstly, this run was in the late afternoon - 17h30 in fact - after an entire day of working had taken place (yes, I am lining up my excuses).  We all gathered at the start, full of energy and enthusiasm - purple feather wings cable-tied to my shoulders.  When the starter flag dropped I raced along with some of the other lunatics doing the run, staying out near the front and keeping pace with Damon. Stupid, stupid, stupid.  By the time we had hit about 1.5km I was completely knackered.  Instead of doing what I knew I should - i.e. find a comfortable pace, settle in and enjoy the breeze - I puffed and panted and acted generally choppish.  As we neared the halfway mark I told my poor son - who was doing his best to be patient with me - to go on ahead.  Then, on the last downhill making my way towards midway I realised that I was simply not having any fun whatsoever.  It sucked. I was hating every single second of every single step I took.  The funny thing is, my legs and knees were 100% - my lungs however were on fire and I simply couldn't regulate my breathing.

Enough was enough.   That's when I decided to stop and have a beer instead.  No one gave me any shit for stopping halfway. I, however - and once I had managed to breathe like a normal person again - was completely gutted.  I had created such an expectation within myself to obliterate this challenge.  

I was pretty emotional the following day.  Regretting giving up.  Regretting not at least trying the second round.  Even if I walked it.  I had set three goals for myself - and achieved two of them.  This was, in my highly dramatic, exhausted and emotional opinion, tantamount to a complete failure.  Woe was me! Anyhoo - by Friday I was feeling a little better, and by Saturday I was determined to try again the next day.  Sunday dawned and - after a serious uitkak from Divine about my knees and the stupidity of my plan - I started my quest to conquer the 8km run.  And I did it.  It took 50 minutes and 20 seconds but I did it.  Oddly enough I actually kinda rocked it.  My breathing was regulated and even throughout, my head was held high, my strides long and measured. I was a running rockstar.  Until I stopped.  Which is when my knees made their presence felt.  Loudly.  Sheeez they are stuffed now!!  Of course on Monday I got the "I told you so" from Mr Know It All Divine, but hey you know what?  I did it.  I can officially tick number 46 off the list.  Three and a half times.

Onward and upward .... bring on the next challenge!
Usain Bolt
x

Sexpo, the toilet read, the swearing and so forth

Because I ramble on somewhat (!!!) I have had to split my posts into two.  Soon - very soon - I will be posting the long and exciting blog about my running efforts.  Wednesday sees the last of the 3-in-a-row-runs and you will then have the pleasure (dubious or otherwise) of sharing my training, and the agony, sweat and tears which are part and parcel thereof.

In the meantime, and to keep the blog at "read-on-the-loo" kind of length, here is a brief summary of some of the other stuffs I have done!

FL No 26: Dye my hair (or a piece thereof) some extreme colour - like pink or blue or purple or some such

So I didn't go as extreme as I had originally planned.  I am the fundraiser for a children's charity and have to bear this in mind.  Although something we celebrate loudly and often is difference and individuality, rocking up at a meeting with bright pink hair could jeopardise potential funding. I went plum.  Not sure how much I like it, but it has already faded to a reddish brown colour so it will do.  For now.

FL No 13: Go to an outdoor music festival

I have booked tickets to Rocking the Daisies - so stoked!  This means that I will be able to cross this one off my list ..... ok so it's only in October, but I am a slightly anal type of person (stop nodding) and are most happy when I prepare in advance!

The thing about this, however, is that I will be camping again!  Twice in one year! Yoh!  Although I am pushing very hard to book into the Heartbreak Motel - which is camping, but the sort of camping where they do all the shit for you, includes breakfast and private ablution facilities etc.  Totally my sort of camping!  Anyway, I am working on that one!

FL No 61 (new addition): Go to Sexpo

Sexpo has been happening in Cape Town for a few years and we always seem to miss it.   It HAD to go on my list!!  I hopped on the preparedness bus (yes, again) and bought tickets through Groupon - nogal at half price.  I took the bare essentials and packed them into my biggest bag, leaving enough room for taking home all the stuff I planned to procure at the expo!

It was somewhat of a disappointment though, I won't lie.  It was like a big vibrator warehouse really - just loads and loads of toys and not a whole lot else.   No man painting landscape scenes with his penis, or pole dancing lessons or that sort of interesting thing.

We did witness the worst male dance "review" (read stripshow) ever - it was really, really bad.  Instead of it being provocative and interesting we were rolling with laughter!  They were nowhere close to synchronised, and kept having wardrobe malfunctions.  The hypnotist however was hysterical!!  It is part of human nature, isn't it, that we love to watch other people make tits (haha) out of themselves.

You could have your picture taken with a guy dressed as a dick and another guy dressed as a dick with boobs.  Huh?  There was body painting, and an opportunity to have your pic taken with an (alleged) porn star.  There were free vodka and tequila tasters to give you the necessary courage to enter behind the black curtained areas. And, for an extra R40 or R80 (depending on your lifestyle choices) you could gain entry into the private lounge areas.

One thing which really tickled my fancy (more haha) was that, for a mere R500, you could have a plaster cast of your fanny made.  You know, as a back up just in case!  I have two thoughts on this (ok more than two, but two that I will share): firstly, how awkward would it be while you were lying there, legs in the air, waiting for the plaster to set.  According to Google, it takes between 20 and 30 minutes for the stuff to set properly.  Seriaaaas!  And then, secondly, what then?  Once you have your fanny immortalised in plaster, what the hell do you do with it?  Use it is a paper weight?  Put it on your mantelpiece next to the pottery the kids brought home from preschool?  Can u imagine the comments?  "Gosh Mabel, where did you get that plaster cast of a mohawk wearing oyster?"  Oi vey!!

Then it came to the toys.  Fascinating things.  There were the usual run of the mill type toys and then there were things which you looked at and thought "holy crap in a bucket, how the hell does that work and where the hell does it fit?"   And did you know that loads of vibrators are now made with a USB recharge function! 'Excuse me dear, please remove your flashdrive, I need to plug my dolphin in for a charge" (!!!!).  And the sex industry has gone green!  True story!  There is a vibrator you can buy which is solar charged!  You put the little solar panel in the sun, leave it for a while and off you go (or get)!  So pay attention peeps - save your planet, only use solar powered sex toys!

FL No 17: Tattoo

Still trying to stuff my pennies into the piggy's tummy - but it is going slowly ..... I need to concentrate and stop spending my money on unnecessary things like rates and taxes!

FL No 11: Going an entire day without swearing

Monday, I got to about 06h32 (training with Divine causes unexpected outbursts of profanity).
Tuesday, I got to about when I hit the N1.  Slowly.  With a silly cow in front of me putting on her makeup.
Wednesday, I made it all the way in to work, but put my bag down on my desk and got so excited about a story I wanted to share that I forgot not to swear.
Thursday, Again made it to work, and it all fell apart.

Damn this is hard people. There followed Friday, Saturday and Sunday filled with profanity.   Monday came around and, even with renewed vigour and enthusiasm, I only made it as far as halfway through training again.  Shitty pigsticks! Maybe if I am sedated for an entire day, I might cross this bastard off the list!

And on that delightfully classy note, I will leave you to your cornflakes and continue on my road to world domination .... I mean LIST domination! ;)

T
x

The haircut, the camping trip and the message in the bottle!

I have managed to cross a few items off my list.  Here's how it all went down!

FL No 44:  Cut my hair. Off.

No big lead up or dramatics (for a change) in respect of this particular event.  In fact, I could barely wait to get my hair cut once I had made the decision to do it.  Although I am not yet convinced that short hair is my thing, I am not unhappy with the result.  Evidence below:

FL No 2:  Have one successful camping trip.  Emphasis on "successful"

Okey dokes, so here's the thing.  Before I launch into how successful or otherwise my camping trip was, let me explain why this even ended up on the list.  I have been camping exactly 3 times in my life.  Each and every time sucked ass.  No 1 was when I was in my late teens and a group of friends and I decided to go camping - not at a proper camp site or anything.  Just pitched our stuff on the bank of some arb river outside Joburg, followed by copious amounts of alcohol consumption, swimming and more alcohol. Until eventually we fell asleep under the stars.  Sounds like fun hey?  Except that when I woke up to a strange menacing face leaning over me my heart almost stopped dead in its tracks.  We had been set upon by pirates.  They made off with a random selection of our belongings and ALL of our cigarettes.  There was luckily no alcohol left for them to take but the loss of the ciggies was so traumatic that one of our friends (admittedly it had been a rough night and he wasn't thinking all that clearly) put together a bunch of reeds from alongside the river and tried to make his own - just so he could get smoke in his lungs. I shit you not!

Anyway, move on a few years later to when Steve and I (in our infinite wisdom) decided to go white water rafting on the Doring River.  To cut an extremely long, painful and traumatic story short I almost drowned about a hundred times, was abandoned on a rock at the top of a moerse rapid, had to get back into my icicle covered wetsuit at dawn's crack on day 2 (this was mid July just by the way) and suffered the indignity of making like a bear in the woods.  If one judges success based on pure survival, then it might have been marginally successful.  If one has higher standards, however, then not so much.

We then move on to camping episode no 3.    The dreaded school camp-out you are obliged to attend when your kid starts Grade 1.  We borrowed the requisite camping gear and headed off, confident and impressive looking.  And ended up not sleeping a single minute because our blow up mattress blew down and sleeping on the floor, on an incline, on a bed of pebbles and boulders, did not lead to a peaceful night's sleep.  Then, when we hauled ass out of the tent at around 04h20 or some such ungodly hour, my 6 year old daughter was missing.  Just missing.  Gone.  Eventually after the search party had looked under the prefabs expecting to find her lifeless body, and we had searched the toilets and behind the buildings and I was a complete blithering wreck, Miss Muffett popped her well rested, cheerful little head out of another tent where she had been visiting a new friend.  If you believe in corporal punishment, you can imagine what ensued. If not, then let's move swiftly on.

So now we come to camping episode No 4.  My fabulous friends Ulla and Marina share a birthday on 13th Feb and decided that this year we needed to do something different.  Camping.  Some brave souls went through on Friday night and others (me included) on Saturday.  I figure that way I stand a better chance of it being a successful camping trip if it only consists of one night.  I once again borrowed equipment, mentally steeled myself, packed in my loo paper and put on a brave face.

Saturday morning arrived and I picked up my partner in crime, Monique.  Aside from getting a little lost on the way (yes I know, Langebaan is pretty damn hard to miss - let's move on), we arrived safe and sound - if a little hot and and a lot thirsty.  First things first, the tent was set up - not by me, but still. A success.

We have shelter!

Then we needed to re-hydrate. More success.

Cheers!

After some rehydration and bonding and a little more rehydration we decided it was time to cross another item off the FL list - no 37: Launch a message in a bottle into the ocean.  Simple right? haha ... just hold on to them horses kemosabe!  All started off well, with everyone penning a short and occasionally inspirational comment on the note.  There was a wide variety of depth - from "life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away" all the way down to ".... is mos" and "wys jou muis" (I know right - my friends!!)

Ulla penning her pearls of wisdom

Then we had to wait for low tide.  So we rehydrated some more, swam a few times, drank punch, had some tequila, braai'd way too much meat (South African style), and patiently waited for low tide. Still a successful camping trip.

Just one interjection here.  I find it so funny (and not at all awkward) that, when camping, every time you do the toilet run you take your loo paper with you.  Inevitably, on the long walk to pee-dom, you meet up with all manner of people, equally armed with bog roll, heading to the same venue.  Completely min gespin. What happened to privacy and decorum?  On the upside - there was no need to make like a bear on this particular camping trip!  Success? Hell yeah!

Eventually it was time to launch the bottle.

Message in a bottle!

A group  of us headed down to the beach, in high spirits (so to speak), and with much ceremony I launched the bottle into the water.

Launch!

Approximately 45 seconds later the bottle returned to the beach!!  Seriously!  We took turns - some taking two - in an attempt to launch the bottle beyond the breakers and ensure that it wasn't returned to sender.  No luck.  Eventually, my intrepid and insane friend Shantal whipped off her pants and went hurtling into the water, bottle in hand, and waded beyond the breakers to deliver our message.  However, when she returned  to the beach, soaking wet and freezing cold, the bottle was not far behind her!  Bugger that.  We decided that we would resume our efforts come daylight and made our way back to the rest of the group.

Back to camping - the heat (!!) eventually started affecting my ability to make complete sentences and I decided to call it a night.  Unfortunately due to the fact that my head was thumping, I had camels walking up and down my tongue, and it felt like I was lying on a bed of bricks, I had pretty much no sleep.  Nada.  Tossed and turned the whole night.  At around 06h30 - with seagulls squawking overhead, the sun already beating its way into the tent and waves crashing on the beach, I called it quits and emerged.  Not a pretty sight, let me tell you!  Success? I think not!

After a hot shower, approximately two litres of Sprite, two bouts of teeth brushing, two Panados and a Myprodol, I was ready to say hi to the rest of the group!  Thank all the angels in heaven that Karen had coffee on the go - without which I might have expired!

There was still the remaining issue of the bottle.  Luckily we had two paddle boarders with us!! Yay! So Berno graciously agreed to take my bottle out ..... waaaay out .... and send it on its way.

This picture will not turn the right way around.  It refuses.  Deal with it!

It's entirely possible that the bottle made its way back to shore but I was gone before that happened so I choose to see the launch as a success.  Maybe one day someone will email and say, "hey I found your bottle" in some foreign language.  I hope it's not the coast guard!

Back to camping!  The brilliant and beautiful team of girls put together an exceptional breakfast (none of it on the weight loss approved plan - oh well), after which we decided it was time to pack up and head on home.  I felt like shit.  It was horribly hot.  And we still had the long, boring, West Coast road to travel.

Bottom line though - from the above, when measure is taken, aside from one little hiccup in terms of not sleeping - I declare the camping trip a success.  We had a great time, laughed loads .... and loads more ..... and it was totally worth it!  So .... there you have it - two for the price of one!

Items No 2 and 37 done and dusted.

Update on the progress of items 17 (get a tattoo with colour) and 46 (run a (short) race)

As regards the tattoo, I have found a design I like (which will need a little modifying, to make it mine), have identified where on my body I would like it and have received the quote. R1000.  Not too hectic.  I have a beautiful silver piggy bank next to my bed which I am now using for the purpose of saving for my tattoo. I reckon it has around R47 in it so far.  Not long to go now ......

The running thing.  8km on 20th March.  This one is more terrifying than any tattoo.  Divine has started helping me get my legs ready for this - which is why I am currently doing the George Burns shuffle.  I need to get my endurance up and work on my core.  I have a pretty weak back and creaky knees so this is why preparation will be key.  Luckily a number of established runners have given me some great tips which I will be implementing along the way.  Moenie worry nie, watch net!

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