Cheese, whine, worms, and words

First the whine.... Well, the end of the whine, at least. In case no one noticed, I was absent for a while. My last blog was a rather half-hearted attempt at Picture Perfect what seems like an age ago. Looking at that photo and the one I have here makes me want to toss the camera or at least let someone else take over the shutter. The last photo's excuse is that it is a very old scanned in photo. This photo has no excuse, but it still illustrates the point.

I was having a chat with a friend last night when I needed to pop off to the kitchen to deal with the cheese. It was one of those meals. I thawed what I thought was stewing beef, but, once thawed, it turned out to be mince, or what some of you call ground beef or hamburger. Where on earth does that come from anyway?? No connection at all. This brings me around to the point of this blog.... words.

A Brazilianism for you... They don't grate cheese here. Some of you would call that shredded cheese. Cheese is offered whole or sliced, more often sliced. I prefer sprinkling grated cheese on my food. One place that I found did 'grated' cheese, actually minced the cheese..... erm... what some of you would call 'ground', as in the 'ground beef'. Ever seen minced cheese? It looks like worms. Seriously not appetising.... but back to the words thing...

While having this rather confusing conversation, I came to the conclusion that British English, South African English and American English are three different languages. In South Africa, we speak British English, for the most part, though there's a healthy addition of localisms that would confuse the best of you. For us, for example, a traffic light is called a 'robot'. Words like 'bakkie', 'biltong', 'boerewors', and 'lekker' abound. The Americans take the prize though.

The cheese I have photographed is, what I would call, 'grated'. Americans call it shredded. I use a grater to grate cheese. The grater slices off slivers of cheese. Shredding is a different process, to my knowledge. Our cat shreds paper. I think she'd make a mess of cheese, if caught on a fussy day when she deems cheese inappropriate for diet. Then there's the mince, or 'ground beef'. I don't know about you, but I grind pepper and other spices, either in a grinder or with a pestle and mortar, or we grind flour in a mill. Grinding beef would be rather hard to do. We won't go down the hamburger route. According to Webster's Random House, 'hamburger' is ground or chopped beef. 'Chopped'? That would take forever! I tried to understand... honestly I did. I looked up 'grind' and found no beef. How is your... uh... finely processed beef actually processed? Is it processed with an odd-looking machine with a funnel thing at the top and holes in the front, producing, dare I say, 'meat worms'? Now before I'm accused of word prejudice, Webster's Random House is American, giving British 'alternatives'. 'Mince' according to Webster's is also, finely chopped. Ah.... I give up! I'm not one to mince my words.... Gee... that was bad... Bad, bad pun..... really bad... *slinks off again*

Technorati Tags: brazil,vocabulary,cheese

Making a difference

My friend, Michelle, on blogger gave me this award. Thank you, Michelle! You brightened my day. I found her through a poem she wrote, and the friendship grew. I am honoured to be on her friends list, never mind her thinking my blog is worth reading. If anyone deserves this award, she does. Her blogs are not only very readable, but speak to the heart. She's 'good people' : ) I would give her the award, but she already has it. I do know that I need to find people to give this award to. Shouldn't be hard... there are some amazing bloggers on my list.
First off, what do I look for in a blog? I like blogs where I can see a little of the soul of the writer. I like personal blogs, not blogs copied from the latest e-mail or news report, though I do happily read those too. I like blogs that tell me about your life and where you are. I like blogs that let me connect to a person on the other end. Herewith, a few, who, in my opinion, for various reasons, deserve the "Excellent blog award".

1. Kippy - Kippy always has something thought-provoking to offer, and often fun too, not to mention the visual appeal of her photography
2. Heather - Her photos and words have a deep emotional appeal. On most things, we speak the same language. Her blog is for contacts only though
3. Eileen - Her world is just so different and she presents it in an entertaining and very readable way. Her art is a joy to experience
4. Lisa - Fun and funky. Her world is multicoloured, much like her little car. Her blogs are never less than fascinating
5. Port Elizabeth Daily Photo - because the place means so much to me and the photos are sooo well worth it!
6. Libby - Open, honest. If anyone can look on the bright side, it is her and she cooks the most fascinating food. Reading about her travels would be enough to have me going back
7. Catherine - a relatively new friend. I love her blogging style. She takes the punches life gives in her stride and laughs at them. I love her outlook on life. Just her avatar makes me smile

Ah... I'm leaving it at 7. There are more here who are wonderful bloggers who are just a little quiet right now. Then there are those who are great bloggers by their interaction with other bloggers... their friendship. I was just saying to a friend yesterday that I have a wonderful contacts list. Most of those on my list are really good people and friends worth having : )

I found this video on a page I visited. Do watch it. I think it would be incredible if we could all turn to at least one person, acknowledge them and tell them how much we appreciate them... and why!

 

And to close... some reading for my photographer friends: Click here

Technorati Tags: inspiration,encourage,acknowledge,friends,video,photography

Ten thought Tuesday

1. I need to write
2. One thing at a time
3. I need to vacuum sooo badly
4. I need to make a call
5. Why is procrastination so easy?
6. Coming up with 10 remotely coherent thoughts is so much harder than it sounds
7. I wish people wouldn't mumble!!
8. Why can't life be simple?
9. It's a beautiful day outside
10. Telephones are not evil. Telephones are not evil. Telephones are not evil. Telephones are not evil. (Just trying to convince myself)

I made a long-procrastinated call to US Immigration (in the USA). I was terrified. I was also very impressed with the service. I went through the options to get to the right department and was immediately spoken to!! I wasn't put on hold for 2 hours... how refreshing! He was so helpful too and willing to take as many questions as I had. I hadn't expected that, so went prepared with too few questions. I will certainly call again when I need to.

Technorati Tags: thoughts,immigration

Looking back... looking forward

I've been gone so long. It's just been crazy around here! Nah... I lie. I wish it had been crazy. Let me rephrase. I've been gone so long because I've been going crazy... or is it because I am crazy? No... don't answer that.

As you may remember, I was looking for my brothers. So far, I've come up with loads of dead ends. Then I figured that I'd try looking for people who may know how to find them or at least be 'on location' to find them, which sent me on a rollercoaster of memories. I started with Facebook. I have tried looking for some of these people before and come up blank. This time, I entered a name and there they were. I was suddenly finding heaps of people, from my best friend through primary school through to the best man at our wedding and many more. It was as though someone had switched on a light. This was both wonderful and terrifying. There are many memories and experiences I'd love to have gone without recalling. Contact with these people has brought all those to the fore again. Of course, not all have come back to me. A couple, I am sad about, but others I don't mind that much.

For so long, while living here in Brazil, it has bothered me that there are so few people in my life who have seen me face to face, who know me, and still consider a connection to me worthwhile. I regularly hear accounts of my friends getting together with each other and, while I am thrilled for those friends, I long to have the same thing, though I know it is out of the question for now. I became a little obsessed with the looking up of old friends. Here were people who have known me face to face, who have been with me through some... interesting times and who still accepted me. A few have even been glad to have made contact again. I was sitting here tonight though and thinking.... I can't go back. Going back is an illusion. I know that sounds weird to you, perhaps, but to me, it was something I had to face. I have to make friends with these people all over again, some easier than others, but so much has changed. We've all moved on. Any friendships I pick up now again would have to be built on as though new. I can't build on history. So I got my wish... in a way. I can't meet with a friend for coffee now, but I have had times where I've sat and talked over coffee or a glass of wine with a good friend. Those memories will have to carry me for a little while longer.

On the subject of 'a little while longer'... and going forward...
Many folk ask me whether I've had news on immigration yet. The answer is... if I had news, I'd have shouted it from the rooftops, so.... no. We have, I think, until at least the end of May to have heard about the last application. Not much time left, is there? I suppose I should say... well, there's always next year. We've said that every year so far. What's one more? I hate even thinking about that. Everything in life has a reason. There is a reason for this too. It will all work out.

In all, I was in something of a muddled funk... on a rollercoaster ride all of my own, so I haven't been terribly talkative. Balance has never been my strong point... balancing my moods, my activities, my various obsessions. I'm trying to find the balance now between new friends and old. I'm still here though...

Technorati Tags: immigration,family,friends,south-africa,relationships,search,hamish,george

Magical Meeting Place

Magical Meeting Place

The World came to me, I greeted the World
And the World allowed me to feel its pulse
Liken to a manifestation of fluttering butterflies,
Some would land and linger
To be caressed in their full beauty
And then released
Unharmed to continue their Sacred Journey
Our purpose fulfilled... for now.

~ Charles E. Guffey 1998 ~

 

Technorati Tags: world,poetry,music,meeting-place

Stand for the children

Taken from Michelle's blog. Thank you for posting this, Michelle!

The Pledge for the Standing Women (see video below) reads...

Last May hundreds of thousands of women and girls, along with the men and boys they love, in 75 countries and on all continents of the world stood together in parks, on beaches, in churches, at graduation ceremonies, in their backyards and at school yards or anyplace they could find to stand in a global wave of humanity in support of a better world for our children.

We invite women and their families everywhere to take this "stand" with us again, on May 11 at 1pm local time for just 5 minutes, to rekindle the world with our common vision.

We stand for the world's children and grandchildren, and for the seven generations beyond them.
We dream of a world where all of our children have safe drinking water, clean air to breathe, and enough food to eat.
A world where they have access to a basic education to develop their minds and healthcare to nurture their growing bodies.
A world where they have a warm, safe and loving place to call home. A world where they don't live in fear of violence-in their home, in their neighborhood, in their school or in their world.
This is the world of which we dream.
This is the cause for which we stand.

To learn more and register your standing, go to the Standing Women website at http://www.standingwomen.org/

 

Let us all stand and send out positive energy together. Standing, thinking about the children, may seem like such a simplistic action to take, but I believe that the thoughts, prayers, wishes, energies of millions of women (and this isn't restricted to women) will make a difference... surely!

Technorati Tags: cause,stand,women,children

Because I have to

You may, or may not, have noticed that I have Technorati tags below each post. I have registered this blog at Technorati. Perhaps people will read it now ; ) Nah... I'm just posting this link here because they want me to.... something about 'claiming' my blog.

Technorati Profile

Gossamer - A Picture Perfect theme

This week's theme had me. I live in a very solid world, aside from an abundance of spider's webs. I had another photo planned and was tempted to post both, but I'm meant to be sticking to the rules, right? *sigh*

This was taken right after some rain here, a highly unusual occurrence ; ) Yes, I am joking. Some critter or another had made a feast of Jorge's Queen of the Night and left just the veins.

Join in the fun at Picture Perfect.

Technorati Tags: picture-perfect,photography,gossamer

School quiz

Sorry... this will be a long one. Like some other people I know, I seem incapable of short blogs. I did another high school quiz thing way back when. It's on 360, though, so good luck =/

 

There is a tag going around with questions relating to school. My reaction to a few of the questions was short and sweet... "Huh?" Schooling in so many ways was so different for me compared to, say, US and Canadian schools. I will do that quiz with that in mind, explaining what our schools were like. Note, I say 'were' because I can't speak for what South African schools are like now. For my South African friends... if I have forgotten something or gotten something wrong, feel free to jump in and let me know, especially if you're living in foreign lands and are familiar with the comparisons.

 

School, for us, was divided into two parts, Primary school and High school. Back when I started school, we had Sub A, Sub B... then Standards 1 - 5 in Primary School. High school consisted of Standards 6 - 10. Standard 10 was known as our Matric year. When Tatiana went to school, we were living in a different province and the school years were named grades, so she went from Grade 1 - 12... same number of years though.

Go to kindergarten?  
Kindergarten, to me, is the same as pre-school. It was very unusual for kids to go to kindergarten when I started school, so 'no'. I turned 5 in Sub A (grade 1) though.

Graduate from high school? 
Yes. Let's leave it at that. I wasn't exactly scholastic by that time.

Go to college? 
I am not sure what is meant by 'college'. I know it is somewhat different to our concept. When we completed our 12 years basic schooling, we had a choice of college or university. Those with sufficient grades could go to University. The 'lesser' grades could go to college. At college, you earned diplomas, as opposed to the degrees you earn at university.
No, I did not go to college. I went straight to work to help supplement my gran's pension. She had no additional income to support us.

Get straight A's in school?  
Until Standard 7 (grade 9), I was an A student... ok, more of a B student haha! In Std 8, I changed schools and went from an all English curriculum to an all Afrikaans curriculum. Although I was fluent in my mother tongue, I struggled with my subjects. It was also an emotional year for me (doesn't take much) and I slipped way down. I was sent back to an English school the next year, but never quite made it back up again.

Go to prom? 
Most schools only had one dance, the Matric dance, held just before you leave school. The boarding school I was at held a dance every term though (our year was divided into 4 school terms). At the end of the school career, we had the Matric dance, though and that was special. The entire event was planned and run by the Std 9's (grade 11's). Every Matric went. There was no missing it. Heck, we were in boarding school. That was our social life ; ) Just joking... even in regular school, it wasn't something one missed.

Take part in extracurricular?  
This one is easy. I was in choir all through school. Choir was my passion. I also took part in the SCA (Student's Christian Association), chess, debate and was librarian. I did drum majorettes in my first two years of high school, but gave that up, as I permanently had grazed knees, which didn't quite match the cutesy outfits we had to wear.

Play any school sports?
Tennis (I was quickly removed from the team, as I was either flat on my face or returning the ball to my partner when playing doubles), swimming (loved that!), hockey. Oddly enough, as long as I kept my stick away from other people's shins, I did fairly well with that.

Graduate in the top ten of your class? 
Uh.... no. I was a very average student... never at the bottom, never at the top. I just muddled through school, much the way I muddle through life.

Miss a lot of school?  
Sadly, no. All  major events and illnesses were reserved for holidays and weekends *sigh* I think I missed a total of 4 days.

Have a favorite teacher? 
Hm... I had a few. My Std 5 teacher, Miss Brown, was wonderful. She pushed us and challenged us to the hilt, preparing us very well for high school. We all loved her. In general, my English teacher in each year was probably my favourite. I was blessed with great English teachers.

Go to football games?
We had soccer and rugby. Soccer being the game with the round patchy ball and rugby being the barbaric, no protective clothing, game with the odd shaped ball. I would watch soccer only when there was some other activity I was desperate to avoid, but rugby watching held no interest for me. I'm not, nor was I ever, a sporty person.

Enjoy pep rallies?
I had no idea at all what a pep rally was, so I looked it up. That would have been our Interschool athletics. Those were obligatory to attend. I attended my last one in Std 6. What a fiasco. The school was meant to organise buses home for us and the organiser forgot our area. I walked most of the way home (we lived far from the school). I called my gran from a public phone on the way, so she wouldn't panic. My gran called the principle during his dinner and threatened him with the school board. It was 8pm. He was none too pleased, but personally went to fetch us all and take us home.

Know what you wanted to be when you grew up?
Yes, I wanted to be a social worker.

Pack your lunch or buy?
Packed... until I got to boarding school where we had a sit-down lunch.

Like gym class? 
We called it PT (Physical training or torture, depending on who was using the term). Blegh... yuck... eeew! I was neither athletic nor flexible. Any excuse would do. Trouble is, I was as bad at coming up with excuses as I was at athletics.

Have a bunch of friends in school?
Nope... I generally had one good friend, possibly two. I wasn't Miss Popular by any stretch of the imagination.

Fit into a clique like jock, stoner, geek, etc? 
I'm not cliquey at all. I was never in a clique... usually the one on the outside looking in, though, to be honest, I was content with my one or two friends. I'm not a group-type person. I did often wonder what it took to be accepted though.

Have a nickname in school?
In primary school, they knew they could get me really mad by calling me Corrie. One girl took particular delight in doing that. I blogged about her once. I'll be darned if I can find that blog. I didn't really have nicknames in high school, thank goodness... either that, or they were so ghastly, I have blocked them from memory. So much of my past is one huge grey area.

Get picked on in school?  
Well, I was slow, the class klutz, often teacher's pet, and I was 'different'. Sure I got picked on. I had a particularly select group of tormentors. Funny, I could stand up to teachers who picked on me, but not kids.

Have a favorite subject?
English and art (Yes, I know that is two... I ignore all numbers issues at best)

Have a least favorite subject? 
Maths and History! I was relatively good at Maths up to Std 7 (grade 9), then the ship sunk. History was ruined for me in Std 6 by a *insert foul word* teacher who took delight in getting the girls to stand on a chair and kiss Hitler's photo. In Std 9, an old hag who was to teach us asked me if I liked History on my first day in her class. I answered 'no' (being honest 'n all). She replied, "I think you're in the wrong class then." She was a fanatic. I agreed with her, packed up and went to change my class to art. Best move I ever made.

Go to graduation? 
Graduation for us was during school time, so yes, everyone went, though for us, it was just a service where the school said goodbye. There was no going onto the platform to collect certificates or anything.
Have a crush on anyone in school? 
I had a crush, but he wasn't in school. Dang, we do stupid things sometimes!

Go to any class reunions?
I went to one. It was a waste of time... totally, except for one thing. I learnt that I was just as good as any of them in my own way and I no longer had a need of the clique. In fact, the clique was no longer remotely appealing. Some of the girls who snubbed me had actually done quite badly for themselves.

Whew.... you made it through that? Hm... others posted photos of them in the 80's. Want a photo of boring? This was taken at one of the school dances.

Technorati Tags: school

This morning...

This morning, shortly after we got up, Jorge said to Tatiana, "Oh, Ana called for you."

Startled, Tat answered, "Who's Ana?"

"How must I know? Call her anyway," he replied, handing her the piece of paper with the name and number.

Tat ambled over to the phone. "Ugh! Mom! Look at this!" She pointed to the name, 'Ana Conda'.

"That is probably just your dad's idea of a joke," I said. "Call her anyway."

Tat is a good girl and listens to her parents.... sometimes. She called...

I tried hard now to remember her reaction, but Tat suggested that it wasn't repeatable. It went along the lines of... "Argh! What the.... DAD!!" Yes, that was a more simplistic version.

Why all the fuss? The number was to the local zoo. Naturally. Where else would Ana Conda live?

Safe - a Picture Perfect theme

With this theme, you get a little peek into my world, or should I say, out of it. I took this photo sitting at my computer. The window next to me was open. The photo I took was of the reflection in the window and our neighbour hanging out her laundry and, yes, the security bars too. Every door and window here has security bars. Before we moved in, the people who lived here had been burgled three times in as many months. Everything had been stolen. We took no chances. We would move in on condition the owner improved security. Between the bars and our dogs, I guess we're safe enough.

So this week, I don't have a very aesthetically pleasing photo. I came up with bars, bars, and more bars. I have photos of some lovely bars and fences, if something like that can be called lovely, but they're not very original as photos. Perhaps this photo will also give you an idea of why I crave wide open spaces...

Exercise is bad for you

I have proved it conclusively.


As some of you know, I have been trying to get fit... to my downfall, of course... quite literally. Trouble is, I tend to tackle things with gusto. If there's a new anything to be learnt, I climb in, boots and all and learn it. If I take on a new hobby, I never start small. I jump in at the deep end and either sink or swim. I have always held to the belief that if you're going to do something, do it with gusto and with gusto is the way I go.... down.

I have been feeling rather energetic. Actually, that is a lie. I have not been particularly energetic, as I've been sleeping badly, but, thanks to the exercise I have been getting, when I have been on the move, I have not been as out of breath as before. Last night, we needed some bread to go with our soup. I offered to dash up to the bakery, two blocks away. The air was cool... lovely... so I skipped out of the yard and prepared to run up. I had hardly gone half a block, when I found myself airborne.

You know that old expression, "The bigger they are the harder they fall"? As I was telling a friend, I came down like a felled Redwood. We live on a very busy road, a throughfare between two major roads. This was right in the heart of peak hour. Need an audience? I will find one. I think the ground vibrations stopped traffic. One motorbiker pulled up next to me and asked if I need the hospital. It is worthy of note here that he didn't get off his bike to help me up from my nose-to-the-ground position. "No, no," I assured him, wishing the ground would do its job and swallow me up. After all, it must have been a huge hole in the ground to make me trip like that, right? Another one of the milling passers by helped me to my feat (deliberate typo... that was a Feat). Thank goodness for the dark. They couldn't see my red face.

Now, I'm weird. I usually, at this point, try to pretend nothing has happened, so I took a few wonky steps in the direction of the bakery. Then I looked up and saw the crowd in the doorway of the pub across the road and the people buzzing in and out of the bakery further ahead. Memories of the queues at this time of the night and the curiosity of the natives made me back off. No way could I face that, so I hobbled home.

At this point, Tat took over as chief nurse in residence. Jorge went to the pub to fetch some bread. On his return, "Did you trip over that crack in the sidewalk outside so-and-so's house?" Poor delusional man. No matter how much I told him it was a crater, he just missed the point entirely. Truth is, it doesn't take more than a hairline crack to topple this biped. I think I will just stick to walking in future. We all know I can't run to save my life *sigh*

One of *those* days...

I woke up late this morning, groggy, as always. I'm not a mornings person on the best of days, but some days are harder than others. It doesn't help that I've been sleeping badly, usually waking up with a crick in the neck and a creepy feeling from disturbing dreams. Who knows why. Perhaps my brain is revolting against the newly imposed fitness regime. Can't blame it, really.

I stumbled to the kitchen to find Jorge pouring coffee from the flask. I make the coffee at night, as the coffee pot is really small and we drink our way through three of those pots for breakfast. This is my way of ensuring coffee when I wake up. Jorge poured the coffee into the mug and the mug was full... no room whatsoever for milk. I like my coffee really strong, and I make the coffee for the flask super strong with this in mind, but with a lot of milk. I have always had it like that and after 22 years of marriage, you'd think he would know that. *rolls eyes* I quietly freaked. We emptied some of the coffee and I added the hot milk, then slunked off to the computer to wake up. I was just getting into my mail, when I reached over and accidentally hooked the handle of the coffee mug, distributing a fair quantity of the brew over my desk and lap. Naturally, I expressed my dismay rather loudly and not very politely. Ok... I'm awake now... enough already. Jorge grabbed a towel from the other room and I set about mopping up. Whew... the keyboard was dry. I lifted it to mop underneath. Oh blast.... some of the coffee was on the underside of the keyboard and ran in through what I can only assume were drainage holes in the keyboard. What on earth were they thinking putting holes there?!

A second or so of typing proved beyond doubt that my keyboard was in serious trouble. I powered off and stripped the keys, figuring I may as well clean them at the same time. It was, as I expected, dry underneath, so I put the keys back. I then opened the back. I checked, Jorge checked... it all looked dry. I put it together and it still didn't work. We figured a new keyboard was due then. Trouble is, this is the start of a long weekend, so the earliest I could look for one is on Tuesday. I borrowed Jorge's keyboard to answer a couple of messages, while he took mine to strip it completely and attempt a fix.

Thing is, when Jorge sees either one of the women in the house upset for any reason, he starts getting stupid. He mocks frustrated tears (I cry very easily... yeah... I know it is dumb, but it's just the way I was made, I guess). The more he made stupid comments, the more angry I got and the more I cried. The more I cried, the more angry I got with both him and myself. Add hormones to that and you have a weepy killer on the loose. I eventually blew up, yelled at him, yelled at Tat for trying to play peacekeeper (that, after all, is my role... how dare she take it), grabbed my keys and my purse and stormed out. That was probably my best move of the day.

I walked and walked. I saw streets I'd not been to before. I saw a property that would leave Alice bewildered in Wonderland. Choose a door?


Here, when a property is demolished or abandoned, they put a wall up in front. I guess this lot just got creative. Judging by the plant growth, that property has been vacant for some time. A lot of those doors would be made from what is called 'noble wood' here, Ipê or Pau Brazil. When we find old doors that have been thrown out, we salvage them. Jorge makes the most amazing things from that wood and you can't buy it any more, as it is protected now.

I walked on, did some shopping (needed to get supper goodies for Monday when the shops will be closed), and walked some more. I found myself down a couple of cul-de-sacs and had to turn around. I'm sure I must have looked like a lost bag lady with my shopping bags, stopping, gazing at scenes, walking deep in thought. My appearance couldn't have helped, as I stormed out without the usual 'fixing up'.

I made a friend or two on the way... .


Right next to this kitten's home was a home that was something out of a Garden and Home magazine. Ok, it was not a large home, but it was beautiful. I stood for a while admiring the garden, with its resident rottweiller before spotting the kitten on the wall. She looks like a raccoon, don't you think? The marking isn't so clear because of the darkness of the photo, but she was pretty. Anyhow, this house, by contrast had a cheap, coloured whitewash, bright blue and badly painted.... that part which still retained some of its paint. Movement up the driveway caught my eye. The scene was one I hadn't seen in a while.... two women doing laundry at their outside basin. I thought of my washing machine that I curse... then I thought back to my first two years here in Brazil, when I was the one outside at the basin, scrubbing. I am grateful for what I have. It's not perfect, but it beats a whole lot of lifestyles.

I finally made my way home. Tat was baking banana bread and Jorge was nearly done with the keyboard, which is now working beautifully. Life goes on. Tomorrow will be better. I learned a few lessons today... good ones.

Fragile - a Picture Perfect Theme

Fragile..... blue balloon, blown up in a moment of fun, caught in the bars. Will it pop? Will it break? Fragile is tougher than we think. Fun.... and happiness.... is fragile too... to be caught and held... and treasured... in case it bursts.


The balloon is blown with a straw from a tube of gunk, a Christmas stocking gift to Tatiana by her godmother that gets taken out occasionally to play with... only occasionally... because we want it to last as long as possible, of course


Visit Picture Perfect to play along. Yep, I know I have 3 photos instead of one.... ; )

Mono #2

I know it isn't Monday, but here goes...

Personally, I prefer this photo in colour. I lamented the loss of those lovely rich browns and greens.


Click on the image to view a larger version

1) Opened a my photo in Photoshop, duplicated it, cropped it, then duplicated the layer.

2) Looked at the channels tab (in the layer palette), saw which needed to be bumped up by selecting either the red, blue, green and deselecting RGB (click on the little eyes to select and deselect a layer)

3) Added an adjustment layer > and selected Channel mixer. Selected monochrome and moved the red, blue and green sliders until I was happy.

4) Added an adjustment layer and selected levels. Played around with the top slider to intensify the black and white

5) Selected the stalk to bring out the texture. Added an adjustment layer - levels - and pulled black over quite a distance

6) Selected the cap to bring out the white flecks. Same process as above, except bringing the right hand white slider over more

7) I had lost detail in the underside of the cap, so I selected that next. Added adjustment layer - levels again. This time, I pulled the black slider on the lower sliding thingamebob to the right to lighten it. That brought out its existing texture.

8) I wanted the mushroom to stand out without interference from the wood texture, so I merged the image, duplicated the layer, applied gaussian blur (20), then changed the layer blend to soft light. I didn't want to lose the texture in the mushroom, so I selectively erased using various opacities in my eraser tool.

I took a screenshot of my layer palette to make the whole thing at least halfway more understandable....




And here is the final product for disection ; )


Click on the image to view a larger version

Random silliness

Ok, no smarmy comments about the photo! It is disgusting. I was lamenting to Tat last night that I shied away from cameras for so many years, we have few photos of the two of us having any form of fun or bonding time. Add to that the fact that I'm usually the one behind the camera.

A few days ago, Tat was going through her wardrobe, sorting the clothes between keepers, donation, and tossing. She unearthed her old swimming cap and goggles (both regulation swimming items here).... if you can find a swimming pool. We were already laughing over the trying on of some really old out-grown clothes. I took the cap and goggles and... well.... Tat decided it was photo-worthy. I look gross, but the memories are good : )

Last night, Tat and I decided we were going to try Pilates. We survived the first 14 minutes, with me huffing and puffing, red faced, falling all over the show (I have no balance whatsoever and even less flexibility), but yes, we survived.... Tat survived rather more gracefully than I did. Our torturer then told us to lie down on a mat. Well... we only have one mat between the two of us. I had a good idea of what was coming next, so I said.... let's turn it sideways and share. Good idea! Then we had the problem of how to watch the screen while prostrating ourselves on the floor. We decided to watch first, then, if humanly possible, do the movement, while listening to her instructions. The space on the floor here barely fit the two of us side by side. The computer screen way up there out of sight. The %*$# woman wanted us to lift our heads and shoulders off the floor, and while keeping those in the air, we had to lift our legs... one directly in front and the other up in the air... straight too, mind you! She then started scissoring her legs, still with her shoulders off the ground, both legs straight as pins and never touching the ground. She knocked herself on the nose with her shins every time!! Methinks she wasn't made of plain ol' rubber, but of silicone! Ok, so we lose nothing by trying. I have no idea what happened next. Tat was on the floor on her part of the mat. I looked out the window and said, "Omg, the neighbour's window is open!" Tat looked over her knees, which were, by now, in the air (she is so good!). I just packed up laughing.... and laughed and laughed. My belly ached, I laughed so hard. Tat started laughing. The in-the-air legs were soon banished. There was no helping it. I had the giggles... no... I had the *caps lock* giggles. The tears were streaming. Tat kept stopping laughing and giving me a serious look to stop me laughing. It made me laugh harder. It was as though a mechanism was triggered that couldn't be untriggered. We never did get further into that workout. Needless to say, the idea of Pilates has been scrapped until I can learn to stand on one leg and wrap the other around my head....

Tonight, we'll do a workout called, "The hotpants workout." Makes you wonder, huh? It is a dance workout. You work out, rather vigorously, while dancing. There is a guy doing it with 4 slinky looking women around him. Good cardio stuff that, and fun. Now I just need to figure out which is my left leg and which is my right. We should get this right... right? Hey... I'm working out... what more do they want?

Happy Birthday, George!

Gelukkige verjaarsdag, George... waar ookal jy is.


Today is my brother's birthday. George Michael van der Merwe... the forgotten one... the one who got the least attention... the one who became the black sheep of the family, but was actually the gentlest and kindest. I got to know him so late.

George was the last of my mom's kids. The man who fathered us left before he was born, so George never did get to see him. He has always suffered over that. I remember telling him that the man wasn't worth it and the young teenager yelled back that at least I had the chance to decide that for myself. I was taken away from my mom at the age of 3. Hamish lived half between my gran's place and my mom's. My sister had all my mom's attention. George just had to muddle along as best he could... and best was rather hard for him. I remember his first grade report, "George keeps making funny noises in class." Ever the one calling for attention. The family thought the report card was amusing. Over the years, he found ways to get attention... few of them good. He was always up to some mischief or another. I just used to hear the tales. I never got to see him.

In 1982, I was sent to boarding school. No one told me I'd find my brother there. No one told me we would bond. No one warned me that I would miss him so much. The following year, I was sent to a different boarding school. George was the one thing from the old school I missed desperately. We wrote to each other regularly. I teased him that he had to become a doctor because his handwriting was so hard to read. After I got married, we got together again. It was during his obligatory tour with the army. He came to stay with Jorge and I for a while. That was good. One morning, when I was cleaning, I found a photo in among his things. I hated the photo and didn't want it, but I flew off the handle, accusing him of theft. I know why he took it. It was the only photo we had of our father. Eventually, Jorge took him back to the army base. I didn't see him again. I was so petty. I lost my brother over something so stupid. If only I could find him to tell him I'm sorry.

Family is precious. Relationships are precious. Why did I learn too late that words spoken can't be taken back? I wanted to post this as a private post, as it is of little interest to anyone but myself and, possibly, my brother, but I have decided to leave it public. Maybe... just maybe... he is looking too...

In the photo, I am the one on the tricycle. Next to me is my sister... a little less than a year younger than me. Then George, the youngest, sitting next to my mother. In the background is Jim's work van. Photo taken on Christmas day, 1971.

Hobby - A Picture Perfect Theme

I know I'm breaking one of the first rules here, but I couldn't resist this postcard from South Africa. I think a few of my photography friends can relate ; )

Deltiology...

The hobby isn't mine, but Tatiana's. It started when she was being homeschooled. As a social science/geography project, she had a goal to collect at least one card from every country and one per state from the larger countries. The project involved writing and organisational skills too. We both thoroughly enjoyed it. In fact, we enjoyed the project as a family. A huge wall map marked where the postcards were from. The highlight of our day was visiting the post office to see if another card had arrived. Tat's collection is now huge and we've slowed down with the collection somewhat, but looking through the albums is enough to revive interest.



Unlike regular deltiologists, we collected cards of all shapes and sizes. At first, we prefered the cards to be written on and stamped. It made it more personal. An added bonus was if the person wrote a little about themselves and their country. Later, we went through a phase of preferring mint postcards in envelopes, as the post office was damaging them. The photo above is just a tiny sample of her collection. She now has 717, excluding those that aren't sorted into folders. There are some very old postcards in there now, from the early 1900's and some really unique ones, like the emboidered Spanish one pictured here and one with a sample of South African beach sand. One last photo ; ) This just to show how much work went into the collection. Each postcard is set onto the page with cutouts - no tape or glue involved, so as not to damage the card. Alongside, Tat would write details about the card, where it is from and who sent it with any extra information if there is any.



I was just thinking that the postcard collection is much like a Picture Perfect by snail mail. What a thought : )

Police given 'shoot to kill' order - news article

Link

April 10, 2008 06:33pm

Article from: Reuters

SOUTH African police must shoot to kill and ignore regulations in the battle against one of the worst rates of violent crime in the world, a government minister says.

"You must kill the bastards (criminals) if they threaten you or the community. You must not worry about the regulations," said Deputy Safety and Security Minister Susan Shabangu.

"I want no warning shots, you have one shot and it must be a kill shot," she told police officers, according to the Star newspaper today.

South Africa suffers some of the highest levels of violent crime in the world, with murders, hijackings and rape an everyday occurrence.

Police figures show nearly 20,000 people are murdered a year, sparking public anger at the inability of authorities to ensure safety.

Ms Shabangu told an anti-crime meeting in the capital Pretoria: "I want to assure the police station commissioners and policemen and women from these areas that they have permission to kill these criminals," she said.

"I will not tolerate any pathetic excuses for you not being able to deal with crime, you have been given guns, now use them ... If criminals dare to threaten the police or the livelihood or lives of innocent men, women and children, then they must be killed."

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This news article was sent to me this morning. For my newer friends, if there is one thing I am passionate about, it is my homeland, South Africa. I left very reluctantly. It is no secret, though, that South Africa has one of the highest crime rates in the world, with rape and hijacking being at the top of the list. I was there when neighbours were being gunned down. I was there when girls were dragged into public ablutions and gang raped. According to friends and family, it is worse now. Killing is done for the sake of killing. Then I read an article like this. Those who know me, know that I am opposed to violence, even for the 'greater good'. I don't believe so much in the abolishing of guns simply because that puts the guns into the hands of the criminals, leaving citizen Joe Soap defenceless.

I still have to form an opinion about this article though. What do you think?

I know an article like this brings about strong opinions. I'm game for that, but please keep it clean and respectful.

I touched history

There is a black lady working at the pub Jorge frequents. She makes the most heavenly coxinha's. She asked if I could work on a photo of hers. It had a corner torn off and was heavily finger printed, where the finger prints appeared to have removed ink. The photo was a 2 x 3 inch print. She wanted a large print out of it. For me, the challenge was a relatively unique one. This is the first black face I have worked on. I found that... well... noteworthy. What was more noteworthy though, was that this photo is of her father, one of Brazil's last slaves. He is pictured here, sitting in front of his slave hut. Now that, to me, is a unique experience, restoring a photo of a slave for his daughter. There is a whole time perspective thing going on in my head too. He looks to be around 40 here. She is 65. When I think of slavery, I think of 'very long ago', but not really if this photo is anything to go by.

Anyone here give time management lessons? This is harder than it sounds... the whole time management thing. I start my day checking mail. Someone sends me a link to look at. I open the link. Then another friend contacts me with a "What do you think of...?" and I start a reply. I remember that I wanted to post a blog on "The wisdom of flings" and open a post before I forget. Just then, I remember I haven't eaten yet, so I amble to the kitchen. I come back with a plate and Jorge will say, "Have you started on that photo of John Doe yet?" I open the photo, so I don't forget to work on it and remember the first link I was meant to be looking at. I look at the link and go to reply. While I'm replying, I see an e-mail from Someone Important. I start a reply to that e-mail because, after all, it is from Someone Important. By the time I'm into my second hour of my day, my pc desktop looks a mess and I have no idea any more what I was going to originally do. I often just end up giving up on the lot of them. How is that for productive? My off-pc activities are pretty much the same. So if you find that I'm not 100% *there*, you know why. It is because I'm not 100% *there*. Where I am.... well, that is anyone's guess ; )

 

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