Posting with permission
Don’t ask what my mother did with our hair, but there you go, I was all of six once and a flower girl at my aunt’s wedding.
If you look close enough, you might spot the bubbles! Thought I would share it with anyone with a penchant for bubbles.
I worked till eleven last night (stuck on a challenge), and started again at six this morning. Challenge solved (who would think an incorrect Db config would result in a log interceptor exception)?
To celebrate the unhinged challenge, I decided on some retail therapy. At Sandton city for anyone who knows. And wow, did it hit the spot. I indulged in a pair of Guess jeans and top, and African egg cups (will post pics later), just because I can. I can so I did. Yay me!
Up tomorrow is dinner with my Year 4 teacher and her friend – “the grannies”, is how they are respectfully referred to. The past two nights I’ve been having an evening meal with my old man himself. I am being spoilt!
Poetry in pink
Love in the morning
Love in the evening
Love the whole day
Through
As the sun wss setting, the clouds were wrapped in the most beautiful silver linings, so ornate and bright that I couldn’t help exclaim – there is an actual silver lining! I tried to capture it in pics, but in a way am glad I couldn’t because instead the silver lining was a written on my heart. A brief moment of hope at the end of day.
Waiting, waiting, hesitating
Waiting, waiting, contemplating
Waiting, waiting, wasting time
Welcome to Africa, and African time. Where it takes an hour standing in the customs queue, because time be 5:10am, and skeleton staff to process all the people. But that’s okay, because we are not going anywhere (we got ya!), we just all be like, stand in the queue until it be our turn. Not going forward, not going back. Yeah, but I need the bathroom, people!
Yay, baggage collection time. But where is my luggage? Empty carousels everywhere, three with luggage, but none from Perth. Ask an ‘official’ and he be like – look at that one, if not there then look over there, otherwise go that side. No. None. Eventually I saw – a couple stray bags on an empty carousel. Hey that’s mine! A man called to me – those are the last from Perth. Huh? What did I miss? I came off the same flight and stood in the same queue, how come I’m the last to get my luggage? Everyone else been and left? Ah, I get it. I stood in the ‘foreign passport’ queue. Loser.
Poems and Petals 