So Close

Foot wrinkles

 I was chatting to Sister Mel on the weekend and we were talking about getting older. Aging, to be more precise. Sister Mel was saying that she wondered at what age / stage do you get to the point where you view the signs of your physical aging as matter of fact rather than with a tinge (or sometimes ‘wave’) of regret.

I said to Sister Mel that I think I am getting there. I am not quite there yet (where the fark did that middle aged spread come from??  Get thee away from me, you evil incarnate!), but I am getting there.  I look at my ageing hands and feet with almost wondrous disbelief. I can’t believe these are my feet. 

You know how when you are younger and you bend your ankle, the skin on your foot squishes up and then when you straighten your foot again, the skin all snaps back into shape without a line or a wrinkle? Well the skin on my foot is starting to look permanently squished. I have foot wrinkles. 

Ageing is a bitch. I don’t like getting older, I don’t like getting squishier, but I am starting to accept that it is inevitable and I might as well get used to it. It doesn’t mean I am going to start wearing oversized floral polyester blouses, but it does mean that I am going to think ‘so bloody what if my waistline is a bit thicker, I am almost bloody 40 you know’. 

I don’t want to be a frumpy middle-aged hausfrau, but even as much as I admire the woman, I can’t see myself working as hard as someone like Madonna does as I get older. I’d rather be a little squishy and have that glass of wine (or two), than be super toned and fabulously fit but living on bean sprouts and watercress.

So the answer to Mel’s question seems to be 39,5 years old. Or there about.

When you see the physical signs of ageing on your body, how do you feel? Would you rather be more hausfrau than Madonna, or are you going to fight the foot wrinkles for as long as you can? And don’t give me the politically correct answer; tell me what you really think. 

(As I had my foot in my sister's face, pointing out my foot wrinkles, my father came past and said that he has no idea what we are talking about as he has perfectly lovely youthful feet.  Thank god the man's eyesight isn't what it used to be because if I have wrinkles, the man has crevices the size of the Grand Canyon. I'm just saying.)
 

Dear you, love me xxx

Dear blog readers

You know what I’ve noticed, is that us South Africans are big kissers. We, or at least *I* often end my emails with xxx which is like your xoxox thingy. The kissy thing. I do it with my boss, with some of my work colleagues, all my friends and I even find myself doing it with my some of my recipients. I do sometimes take pause and think “I wonder what this person will think” but then I think ‘what the hell, I am an informal kisser, that’s just how I am’. And I really do like them. If I like you, you are getting a xxx*

I’ve noticed that South Africans do it quite a lot. And then I got an email from an Australian (possible) recipient and she did it first! Yay! I love Australians, I really do. Australians are the next best thing to South Africans. 

We also sign our emails ‘love, Tertia’. You guys not so much? Actually, now that I think about it, you guys don’t really use any salutation. We are all “Dear so and so”, and “love Tertia xxx”. You just start with “Tertia, ….” and end with just your name. No ‘regards’ or ‘love’.  Cold, unfeeling bastards! Next thing you’ll be putting your telephone number in your email signature with no dialling code!

Love,
Tertia
xxx

* If you haven’t got a xxx from me, it isn’t because I don’t like you, it’s probably because you are American and you guys aren’t into that type of thing. If I really like you, you’ll get an xxx with tongue.

Please note: I don’t do the xoxox thing because I am not a hugger. Kisses are fine. No hugging.

It’s a dog’s life

*Updated note below

Every time I think we are all just one big global village, I get reminded that cultural differences do exist. Like the barefoot thing. And the pet thing.

A while back I posted about my dogs and mentioned in passing that they were outside dogs. There were one or two pointed comments that expressed horror that my dogs slept outside and at the time I thought to myself “huh?” Dogs are animals, they were born to live outside and then as I read the various comments I began to realize that for many of you, dogs actually belong inside, not outside.

Now firstly, I have to say that I am a ‘kid person’. If there were two tins on the counter, one with a pic of a snotty-nosed starving kid and the other of an emaciated mangy dog, I would always choose the kid tin. (See example below)

Of course I am generalizing here, and although there are many Africans whose dogs live inside the house (my parents!), it is more common to have our pets outside. The house is for humans, animals belong outside. They are welcome inside (sometimes!) but they belong outside where their job is to protect the house and family. (She says while hearing Bruno bark in the background. Good hound!)

Last week I took the puppies for their third vaccination. I decided to bring the kids with me because they LOVE going to the Vet. But that meant I had to take Rose with as well because handling twin toddlers AND twin puppies on my own is a little beyond even me.

The bill for their vaccination cost more than many South Africans earn in a month. There is something intrinsically wrong in a society where we spend more money on an injection for a pet than a family of four or more has to survive on in a month. I don’t know, I just felt…embarrassed? Ashamed actually. I felt the difference between the haves and have nots very profoundly.

It got me thinking again about this pet thing. About how in the first world many pets live better lives than many people on the African continent do. About how people raised their eyebrows at my dogs living outside where mothers and children here have to sleep outside with no food or shelter.

It is not that I think pets should suffer, at all. I think it is just a matter of perspective. It’s about how privilege and good fortune can shape your world view. And how it is easier to judge when you have choice.

Rose was cool about it. She just laughed. She said white people were crazy. In the townships (where the majority of black people lived under Apartheid and still do today), they didn’t do things like vaccinate their dogs or take them to puppy socializations classes. Aarggh, I feel so horrible just thinking about it. I know my sister feels the same way when she does her charity thing at the hospitals. Seeing so much poverty all around and then getting into her shiny new car to drive to her comfortable home.

I am not sure what the point of this post is, perhaps there isn’t one. All I know is I felt embarrassed and ashamed that day at the vet. And that I would probably almost always choose the kid tin over the dog tin.

The last poll I ran was in 2005, so let’s do another one. Here’s the scenario: There are two charity tins on the counter, both of them totally legit. One has a picture of a starving child, the other has a picture of an emaciated dog. You only have one dollar to give. Which tin gets your dollar? You are welcome to tell me why in the comments.

Updated: Don't be so literal about this! I know it doesn't have to be an either or choice, and that most of us would give to both. But what kind of a boring poll would that be?  Everyone would choose 'both'. I am trying to get a sense of which way you lean. For example, Marko and Best Friend Mel would choose the dog tin every time (for similar reasons to you).  Sister Mel and I would choose the kid tin every time.  Marko and Friend Mel don't hate kids and Sister Mel and I don't hate dogs. I have three dogs for goodness sake!

And then re the yard thing, that is a fair point. I didn't realize so many of you had wild animals in your backyard that could kill the dogs.  I would never leave my dogs outside if they were going to be attacked. Almost all our yards are totally fenced in with high walls and gates. To keep the baddies out.

I am having posting regret now. Gah.

Oh, how perfectly lovely

What do you do if you get a gift from someone that came with a lot of love and good thought, but that you really, really don’t like. Say for example an item of clothing or a piece of jewellery. Something that would be obviously noticeable by it’s absence if you didn’t use it / wear it. How do you handle that one? “Oh how perfectly lovely, let me save it for a really special occasion, like NEVER!”

I’m telling you, this whole gift giving, present wrapping, card sending business is fraught with danger! A veritable minefield of dangerous possibilities! Best avoided all together with a simple yet thoughtful gift certificate. 

Of course, then you get that whole angst about how much you should spend on the voucher…. Gah! I think what we need is a simple email saying “Congrats. Have a super day. Bye”. Much easier, less stress.

I hate April Fools Day

Do you do that there? We do, kind of. Well, some people do. I hate it. It goes to the root of everything I hate – surprises, making people feel stupid, finding humour in the embarrassment and discomfort of others.

I am not usually a big killjoy, I think I have a pretty ok sense of humour, but I really, REALLY hate things like prank calls, those stupid tricks they do on MTV or whatever, and April Fools Day jokes. I find totally unfunny. In fact I find them downright mean and bullying. Why on earth would you find it to funny to trick someone, to make them look stupid or to embarrass them? Try as I might, I simply can not find anything even remotely entertaining about that. Gah. I really hate it. With a passion.

Signed
Sour Puss Tertia

Wrapped

It is Sister Mel’s birthday soon which means it is again time to reflect how two people related by blood can be SO totally different when it comes to certain things. Like birthdays. And gifts. And more specifically, gift wrapping.

Sister Mel loves birthdays (especially her own), loves gifts and has this crazy thing where she likes, no EXPECTS her gifts to be gift wrapped. I don’t understand it. What is the point of spending an extra 10 or 20 bucks on fancy paper that someone is going to rip to shreds within 0.05 seconds of getting the gifts? Wouldn’t you rather have that extra money spent on the actual gift (i.e. the gift certificate I so lovingly picked out for you)?

And if you think Sister Mel is bad, you should meet little sister Nina. Not only does she expect the gift to be wrapped, but she also expects a card. Now THERE is a total waste of money if I’ve ever seen one. Why would anyone want to spend money on a piece of fancy cardboard with someone else’s words on it?

I asked both sisters why they insisted on having their gifts wrapped accompanied by a card. “It shows you care” they first said. But I do care! I don’t need fancy paper and cardboard to show I care, I replied. “Well, it shows you care enough to make an effort” was the next answer. Fine, but you both know I am wrapping the gift because you say it is important, not because I care any more or any less. Grumble grumble sticky tape scissors and paper grumble.

Wrapping a gift for children I understand. Adds to the element of surprise and excitement. “What could it be” they marvel while they wastefully rip the paper off. Fine, you want surprise; I’ll wrap it in the store bag it came in. Look! Surprise!

A mutual friend of Friend Mel and mine recently had a baby shower and I offered to buy the gift. I sent a text message to Friend Mel saying that I had got the goods and she replied “I hope you’ve wrapped the gift”, to which I replied “obviously not”. The curt response via text was “WRAP THE FUCKING GIFT YOU ASSHOLE. OR ELSE”. So I went out and bought the damn paper and wrapped the damn gift. (I am almost more scared of Friend Mel than Sister Mel. Both Mels are extremely bossy). I have to say, I didn't care any more about our friend after the gift was wrapped than before.  I did care that Friend Mel had SHOUTED at me.  Scary assed bossy boots.

As our friend was opening the various beautifully wrapped gifts, the woman next to me sighed and said “look how beautifully that gift is wrapped (clearly NOT talking about my gift). Doesn’t presentation make all the difference?” I nodded vaguely and gulped down my champagne.

I am clearly in the minority here. To me, presentation makes absolutely no difference at all. The gift could come in a brown paper bag or a sterling silver gift box – it isn’t important. But it clearly is to others. Most people. Enlighten me. Does it really matter whether your gift comes wrapped or unwrapped? Does presentation really make that much difference after all?

Filling her love tank

You were right, this is about Rose. And just so you know, I am not speaking behind her back. I’ve had this discussion with her at our last coffee date. 

Sigh. Where to start.

For those who have read “The Five Love Languages” by Gary Chapman, the easiest way to explain it is to say that Rose’s ‘love tank’ is empty, and I am not sure I can, and should be filling it.

Rose is a pretty intense person. Not in a bad way, it is just who she is. She reminds me a lot of Marko actually, and my sister and best friend. I guess I am attracted to people who have strong, ‘strict’ views on life. Rose has very high standards, for friendship, or fairness, for life. She lives life with intensity, with passion and with 100% commitment, and she expects the same in return.  Which means that she is often disappointed by people. And lonely.

She has been through a really tough time recently, and just about everyone in her life has fallen short of her expectations. Not only have her friends disappointed her, but so has some of her extended family, most of who live really far away. Even her religion has let her down. Which makes her feel quite alone.

Rose’s love language is ‘quality time’. She loves to spend time with people, bonding, talking, sharing, laughing. She lives with me, she has no transport and so she gets very little opportunity to talk, share and bond with anyone other than me during the week.

Out of all the love languages, ‘quality time’ scores second lowest on my list (‘gifts’ comes last). Not only do I really, really not have the time to spend quality time with anyone other than my children, the ‘quality time’ thing just doesn’t do it for me.

But of course, I do understand that it is important to other people. My husband, for example, has ‘quality time’ as his love language.  He wants nothing more than to spend time with me. I want nothing more than to spend time on my own!!

I am a people pleaser of note. I want people to be happy, and if they aren’t, it makes me feel terrible. And yet…..

My day is so full. When I get home from work, all I want to do is spend time with the children. Then, once I have put them to bed, I have a few hours in which to do the million other things I have to do. Work on work stuff, work on my new project, write for my blog, write for my weekly column. Try and squeeze some time for my poor husband who gets hardly anything of me. Any spare time I might have left over, I want to be alone. I need to be alone. Quiet. I need to have the time and space to unwind, to settle my crazy insides, to slowly and quietly recharge my bits so that I can start all again the next day.

But I know Rose’s love tank is empty. I know she is lonely. I know she needs to spend time with someone. To talk. About important stuff; about everything and nothing at all. Talk. And it makes me feel so guilty because no one else is filling her love tank, and so perhaps it should be me. And then I get resentful because I can’t be there for her emotionally as well. I take care of her in every other way. I pay her three times what other people get. I take and fetch her from the shops, I drive her around. I sort out her financial mess. I buy her gifts. I do things for her. I tell her how much I appreciate her. I do all the other love languages, but I just can’t do the quality time thing. I can’t. And to be honest, I don’t want to..

Because quality time is her love language, all these other things have not been meaningless, but they have not filled her love tank. She feels let down by me. And so she too has been resentful. Things have not been great.

Eventually it came to a head and we spoke about it. I agreed that we would go on a once a week coffee date and that would be her time to talk. She would have my undivided attention for that time.

It was our first ‘quality time’ date on Wednesday and we spoke about the love language thing. (She has read the book too, which helps us chat about what is going one). We spoke about why we were both feeling so resentful towards each other. It really helped.

There is a part of me that says that I can’t, and shouldn’t be responsible for filling her love tank. That as her employer, I am not responsible for happiness (in that way). But then there is the other part of me that says for whatever reason, whether she is right or wrong, she has no one else. And so it has to be me.

I don’t know. I really don’t. As you can see, I am trying. I have agreed to the once a week coffee date, even though I am so, so SO busy. And even though I can’t even manage a once a week date with my husband!!! (Something that I am going to do something about, promise). But because I care about her, I want her to be happy. I just wish it didn’t depend on me.

What do you think? I haven't had time to check this through for holes, opportunities for misunderstanding, possible offense taking or other land mines so please be gentle.   

(Edited to add: re the driving licence thing, that is not going to happen for a long while. She needs lots and lots more practice. So that is a long term solution, not a short term one)

Are we responsible for the emotional wellbeing of others?

Ok, enough of that sex talk. For now. Will be back shortly with conversations about libido, frequency, orgasms and the G spot. 

On to more serious matters. I have a question (another!) to ask you, one that I need you to give serious thought to.

“Are we (you, me) responsible for the emotional wellbeing of others?”

Before you answer a yes or not, let me refine the question a little more.

“If someone (partner, parent, child, boss, friend, employee, spouse, stranger, sibling) had an emotional need that you could meet, should you? Do we have an ethical, social or moral obligation to do what we can to ensure the emotional wellbeing of others?”

I don’t think this is a strictly black or white issue, I think that like many other life questions, there are various shades of grey.

If I asked you whether you were responsible for the emotional wellbeing of your children, I suppose you would lean towards yes.

If I asked you whether you were responsible for the emotional wellbeing of your spouse, perhaps you would say a conditional yes.

What about your friends? Your employees?

If your child is sad, is it your duty to comfort them?  If your partner is feeling down, is it your responsibility to try and make them feel better? If your friend is lonely, should you make sure you spend time with them? If you are going through a difficult time at home, should your boss be understanding and make allowances (up to a point of course) at work to accommodate you?

How much responsibility do we have towards the emotional wellbeing of others?

I have a very specific situation that I want to discuss with you, but I first want to get your unbiased, uninfluenced view on the subject before I give you the details. 

(Hope you don’t mind me asking your opinion on all these things. It is not that I don’t have opinions of my own; it is just that I am sometimes not sure how fair my opinions and expectations are. Sometimes I am right (the puppies) and other times you’ve pointed out how wrong I was (my kids being bratty towards their cousin). As I said, you are my sounding board. Hope you don’t mind. It is your job, you know.)

The mass debate on oral gets deeper

(BTW, your comments on the BJ post have been VERY entertaining. You really are a very entertaining bunch of women.)

Right all you olive lovers and ‘no thank yous’, I need you to go do some field research into this very important topic of blowjob giving.

I need to go ask your man, or any man (if you are a man yourself, pls provide feedback directly) what their view on the matter is. How do they feel about the spitting vs swallowing debate? No big deal or very big deal? Why do they love it (the BJ and the swallowing thing) so much? (One word answers like ‘nice’ or ‘fine’ are not allowed. Dig a bit deeper guys) Are there men out there who have a ‘take it or leave it’ attitude towards BJs? If they could choose between a BJ (with swallowing), a (pleasant, but not blow your socks off) shag or a (smallish yet with reasonably good picture clarity) flat screen TV, which one would they choose?

Then, in the interests of all things fair. We will do a poll on receiving oral. How much do you love it? Lots? Fair to mild? Not for you? Prefer just plain (non oral) sex? Or would you rather choose that lovely flat screen TV?

Spit or swallow or No Thank You, not for me

I know this is a little risqué, but its not as if you are a bunch of blushing virgins, now are you!

A friend of mine (truly!) wants to know the answer to this question, and I said I would ask all of you. Because, besides the one or two assholes that lurk on this blog, I would say you probably represent the ‘average’ (incredibly good looking, witty and charming) woman out there.

My friend’s (seriously, it is not me who wants to know, I really do have a friend who wants to know this stuff) husband is trying to convince her that there are women out there who really, truly love giving copious amounts of oral sex to their husbands and who, according to him, actually love like don’t mind swallowing.

So dear average woman, is my friend’s husband a lying bastard, or does he have a point? (no pun intended)

Edited to add: My friend and her husband were laughing and teasing each other when they asked me to post this question. It was more about teasing each other than him making her do something she didn't want to do, promise. It was a tongue in cheek (penis in mouth?) type of thing.