Please note that as part of the BlogHer contractual
stipulations, I am not allowed to accept the $20 Amazon gift voucher for
participating in the book tour. I am doing it out of love ;-)
The Daring Book For Girls is written by two fabulouswomen.One of whom happens to have written one of
best books of all time – MotherShock – Loving Every Other Minute. That book saved my sanity.
This book is a great book. It is
very well put together, well researched and an absolutely fabulous read for any
girl, no matter how big or small. The
contents page reads like a wish list for an absolutely fabulous adventure and includes
chapters on knots and stitches, how to tie a sari, slumber party games,
campfire songs, how to whistle with two fingers, etc. In other words, stuff that any Daring Girl
would love to know. It really is a
lovely book; both fun to read and beautifully illustrated.
Having said all of that, I am really pissed off that this book had to
be written in the first place. Really. This has nothing to do with the wonderful job
that the two authors did, or the book itself, but the fact that the book is
basically a result of the hoo-hah around an earlier book entitled “The
Dangerous Book For Boys”. People got
their self-righteous PC knickers in a knot because someone had DARED create
something that was aimed specifically at boys. It really chaps my arse. I don’t want to go off on a tangent here
(although seeing as this is a ‘for love’ review as opposed to a ‘for gift
voucher’ review, perhaps I am allowed to), but honestly, I am so sick and tired
of the ubiquitous beige that we enforce on everyone. It is all so PC, so sanctimonious and
frankly, all so very, very boring.
Not that I feel strongly about this or anything like that.
So, besides my little rant above, the bottom line is that this is a
fabulous book. For Daring Girls or
Dangerous Boys. Go read the other
reviews here. Or even better, buy the
book here.
You have to go do this test. It is a Myers-Briggs test thing. I can't believe how accurate it is. I made Marko do it too and his came out equally accurate. The funniest, funniest thing was that Marko's profile is known as "the field marshal". Hahahahaaaaa!
So, firstly go do the test here to find out what portrait / personality you are.
Then, click on this page to read more about yourself.
Then, find out what type of lover / friend / parent you are by typing in this URL (http://www.personalitypage.com/ESFP_rel.html), but change the letters to your profile. (Must be in caps) In other words, if you are a ENTJ, then enter http://www.personalitypage.com/ENTJ_rel.html instead of the ESFP (that is my one) I am sure there is an easier way but I haven't figured it out.
This is my profile (ESFP - The Performer) and this describes what I am like as a lover, friend and parent. Frighteningly accurate.
This is Marko's profile (ENTJ - The Executive) and this describes what he is like as a lover, friend and parent. Again, so spot on. Scary.
Warning: Jumping on the bed, running in the house, shouting, silky nightgown wearing and dummy sucking featured in this home movie. May offend stricter viewers. Featuring a cameo appearance by the lovely Rose.
A tip: Turn your volume down, click on play, open another window and do your banking or read other blogs etc while the movie runs through from start to finish. Then once it has run through entirely (and done that funny pause and go buffering thing), click on 'replay'. Hopefully it play without stopping and starting.
As part of my new acting loving / quality time approach, I spent a
little time with Marko watching whatever he was watching on TV (HATE TV! So boring, such a waste of time!) last night. He was watching a rerun (a rerun!! People watch
reruns!! WTF for??)
of a reality TV show called “The Block”.
Do you have it there? It started in
Australia and we had our own local version a while ago. In a nutshell, they give four couples a
certain budget to renovate an apartment from scratch. Sort of an Extreme Home
Makeover meets Survivor. With a bit of
Amazing Race thrown in.
Anyhow, the rerun (plus the gazebo incident on Sunday) got me thinking
how much it would suck doing a reality show with my husband. Firstly because I
would totally SUCK at something like Survivor. Not only do I consider anything less than four star accommodation (with
room service) as ‘roughing it’, but also because I don’t do ‘bush ablutions’
very well. I can hardly pee in the outdoors,
never mind do a number two. Never mind
outwit and outplay, I would outpoop everyone because I wouldn’t be able to do
it in the bush.
But besides the fact that I would suck at physical stuff, I would HATE
HATE HATE to play the game with my husband. He is SO competitive and he gets SO
worked up when he does stuff that it would never work. Plus he is a perfectionist. He would be yelling at me constantly. I would do everything wrong (according to
him), which would result in him yelling at me, which would result in me first
yelling back at him and then crying and then him making it up to me and then me
saying sorry and OMG the other team would have won AGES ago already!!
No, the thought of having to compete in any reality competition as a
husband and wife team is enough to make me want to poop (just not in the bush).
That man would stress me out more than
any immunity challenge or cross country race.
How would you do in a reality TV show like Survivor, or Amazing Race or
The Block etc? How do you think you
would do competing as a couple with your partner? Who would you take with you if you had to
compete as a team of two? If I wanted to
win, I would take Marko. Because there isn’t much he can’t do, and he is VERY
competitive. But if I wanted to have
lots and lots of fun, I would probably compete with Sister Mel. We might not win, but we would have loads of
fun!
I’ve never been one for parties. My own parties. I’ve always preferred to do something low
key, something were I didn’t have to be the centre of attention. Yes, believe it or not, I used to be
painfully shy when I was younger. And then I moved on to being just painfully self-conscious. I then graduated to being confident, yet
still preferring to shun the limelight. And then somehow along the way of
living the life I’ve been dished out, I got over all of that and I now am at
peace with who I am, warts and all. I
still don’t love being the centre of attention (I prefer chirping from the
sidelines (bloglines)), but if I must, then I am able to do it with relative
ease. Maybe I just care less what people
think of me. Maybe it is just called
growing older.
Speaking of which, it is my birthday today. In case you missed the
Facebook announcement, the Google chat notification, the diary entry I put in
your diary when we were drunk at last year’s Xmas bash, or the group SMS I sent
everyone. It is the last year I am able
to say (without lying), that I am in my thirties. My goodness, but this last decade flew past
at lightening speed. Whoosh.
(Just read a very sweet post by my sister where she gives an account of
our first few decades together. Don’t believe
everything she says. Ok, so I did stick my finger up her bum, but I am sure I
didn’t paint her nails?)
So, going back to the party thing. I never used to have birthday parties, but I decided to have a little
braai yesterday afternoon. I invited my
sisters and my neighbours. And my best friend Mel but she clearly hates me so much
that she couldn’t bare to be around me (she was away). It was great having everyone there but OH MY
GOD, it is so much hard work having people over. What was I thinking? I didn’t sit down once the entire day! What part of running around like a blue-arsed
fly is supposed to be fun? Marko braai’ed
and I did the salads and general kid duty (a typical South African tradition)
and my friends and family had a lovely time drinking champagne and
chatting. On my birthday. Can you spot the error?
Actually, it was divine. I drank lots of champagne and everyone*
did help and do their thing. But it was a lot of work. And cleaning the mess afterwards! Plus dealing with the sugar laden kids! (Adam
went to sleep at 9:30 last night!! Two hours after I put him in his bed!!) I think I remember why I don’t like to have parties
at my house – because the hostess ends up doing all the work!!! All I can say is thank goodness I married to Sergeant-Major
Analtyn because he worked like a Trojan the whole day.
30 minutes before the guests arrived he was still doing his thing:
(please note he also swept the driveway. The driveway!! Plus he put up the
entire gazebo himself. I did try to help
but he asked me not to. Apparently when I help, I make
it harder for him to do stuff. Ok then.)
30 minutes before the guests arrived, I was doing my thing:
All in all, a great time was had by all and it was v nice having my
friends (except for Ex-Friend Mel) and my family around. I think next year I am going to have my party
elsewhere though. Somewhere other people can cook and clean up afterwards ;-)
Anyway, there you have it. 39 years old. How the fuck did that happen!
(Marko annoyingly raised the bar this year in terms of gifts. Besides the new boobs (a gift for the both of
us really), he also got me some really nice underwear (ditto) and a jewellery
holder thingy that I wanted. Most
annoying because now I have to give him more the usual aftershave and blowjob for
his birthday next year. V tiresome)
*By "everyone" I mean all the women. All the men sat around the braai watching Marko turn the meat. This is what happens in South Africa. The men are responsible for braaiing, or supporting (ie sitting around) the person who is braaiing, plus drinking. The women have to make the salads and everything else, lay the table, get everything else ready, watch the kids, wash the kids when they poop in the garden and then stand in it ("Sweetheart! Your daughter has just pooped in the garden!"), pour drinks, set out the chips, tidy up etc. Watch this Youtube video for an excellent skit on the lovely South African tradition of braaiing.
A dear friend-in-the-computer sent me an email recently. A friend of a friend of hers had suffered a
terrible loss and she wanted to know from me what she should do. I forget the detail of her email to me, but she
was asking me what she should say. She
wanted to know whether she should talk about it or not, whether talking about
it would “fan the flames of their agony”. Whether she should just say “I am sorry” or whether she should offer to
do something for them. She is such a
sweet person, and she was really sweet to me when Ben died.
We went back and forth on email, with me telling giving her my input,
and as we were going back and forth, I realized that everyone is
different. That will work for me wont
work for someone else, and then I got to thinking about asking a few of my
fellow bloggers to write about their experiences with grief. What it was like for them. What helped and
what didn’t. Please read their
experiences as well and perhaps we can all learn a little more from each
other. I would love to hear your
experience as well.
Most of you know Cecily. She lost
her twin boys and almost lost her life due to severe pre-eclampsia.
Some of you know Billie, who has to deal with reality of raising twin
girls who were born extremely early (24w) and who have varying special needs.
Snickollet lost her husband to cancer when her twins were just a few months old
I’ve spoken about my friend Alida, who was recently diagnosed with
stage 3B ovarian cancer and is currently undergoing chemotherapy.
And then my friend Vanessa, mom to Kendra who was born with a very rare
chromosomal abnormality, and who tragically passed away at 11 months old.
I urge to read their views on grief as well. But for what it is worth, here is mine.
I am not often in a bad mood. I
do get irritated fairly quickly, or I might feel a little down, but I am not
often in an out and out bad mood. You
know those moods where even you can see the black thunder clouds above your own
head? But when I am in a bad mood, I like
to warn people in advance. I say “I am
just warning you that I am in a bad mood. It has nothing to do with you or
anything you have done wrong; I am just in a bad mood”. I do this so that they
know to leave me alone and let me get over it on my own. Which I usually do fairly quickly. At least the other person knows that it is
not them, it is me and if they leave me alone to wallow in my misery, I will be
fine in a while.
Simple, right?
Not for Marko and Rose. They can’t
handle it if I am in a bad mood. Or rather,
if I tell them I am in a bad mood. They
hover. They want to know why. And even though I have explicitly told both
of them that it has nothing to do with either of them, they can’t seem to let
it go. I am not allowed to be in a bad
mood. I must have a reason. It drives me crazy!
I was in a bad mood on Friday night. I told Marko when he got home “I am in a bad mood. It has nothing to do
with you, you’ve done nothing wrong, nothing has happened, I am just in a bad
mood”. I could see he was dying to ask
me more questions (‘but there must be a reason why’) but he let it go. Rose however hasn’t been around as long, so
she still has to learn.
I told her the same thing. She
hovered, she um’ed and ah’ed. Eventually
she couldn’t help herself. “I know you
said you were in a bad mood, but I just want to know whether I can ask you
something when you are ok”.
Sigh.
“It’s fine Rose, you can ask me now”. “No, you said you were in a bad mood, I will ask you another time” “Rose, it is fine. What do you want to know?” “No, don’t worry. I just wanted to know whether I could ask you
something when you were feeling better”
SIGH. Has she ever not been able to ask me anything? Never. The two of us are usually jabbering on all day, we talk about anything and everything.
“Rose, it really is fine. Ask me. How can I help you?” “No, it’s fine. It is not important. I will ask you another time”
Somehow it is worse for Rose and Marko if I tell them I am in a bad
mood. I can’t understand that. If they tell me they are in a bad mood (they don’t,
they just get moody), then I respect that and I leave them alone. I don’t pick
fights, I don’t try and have deep and meaningful talks, I just let them
be. It is too much to ask that they just
let me be in a bad mood???
Luckily (for all of us) I woke up on Saturday morning in a far better
mood. Perhaps next time I will just be in a bad mood and not say it out
loud.
Don’t you think it is much better to admit to being in a bad mood rather
than just being moody and blaming everyone else? Would it also drive you crazy if I warned you
I was in a bad mood? Would you also
hover? Would you want to know ‘why’?
(I am usually better at concluding my blog posts but I've had that last glass of champagne and it was either the sudden ending or no post at all.)
1. He doesn't drink b. We have no social life. So it is not as if we often have people over for drinks. In fact, we recently had to throw out a whole lot of alcohol because it had expired.
Please note: This has never happened with any bottle of white wine.
(This is our drinks fridge. Why do we have a drinks fridge? Because Marko insisted on buying a new fancy silver fridge when we moved into our new house four years ago. Even though there was absolutely nothing wrong with the old one. The old fridge's only crime? It didn't match the new microwave. Why did we get a new microwave? Because even though the old one was working perfectly well, it didn't fit in with the new kitchen cupboards. Somebody give the man a drink. Just don't mess up the order in the drinks fridge.)
Edited to add: Hahaha! Can't believe you picked up on the Sprite / Fanta thing - guess who put the Sprite and Fanta in the fridge ....ME!! I didn't even notice. You guys are worse than he is.
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The Daring Book For Girls is written by two fabulous women. One of whom happens to have written one of
best books of all time – MotherShock – Loving Every Other Minute. That book saved my sanity. 
