The parables of Skedonkie (Part1)

We have all had one of these, the very first car we started out with.  You know the one I am talking about, the one that drives but really by all the laws of physics and reason should not be able to.

One such legend was Skedonkie.  At the time she was a great source of humiliation/frustration and mayhem.  Now that I think about it, she was not all that different from a toddler.  But I digress.  It has been years since we parted and now that time has healed all the wounds she is an endless source of myrth.

Like the time she became a flame thrower….

There was always a number of things wrong with Skedonkie.

Like:  not starting in the morning, or the clutch not releasing or my personal favourite, the timing being out that resulted in backfiring. Like a canon. True Story. There was only one person in the whole of Cape Town that was able to get Skedonkie’s timing right and on this occasion he was not available, so I spent a very unhappy two weeks with a car that regularly backfired.  It was mortifying.  As these things go with temperamental cars the backfiring was worse at certain times, when heading uphill, downhill, straight, and also intensified when “gearing back”.

One late afternoon, on my way back from work, I was heading down the steep slope where Boyes Drive meets up with Main Road.  It was peak traffic and Skedonkie had been happily backfiring at two minute intervals when to my horror traffic had come to a complete standstill right on the steepest of slopes .  Let me add at this time the brakes weren’t all that keen on braking when asked to, so I had to gear back in order to ensure that I did not rear end the car in front of me, who even despite of having been keeping a very wide bearth from me was a mere metre away.

<All the other drivers had been keeping well clear because, I suspect, the fear of my car imploding.>

Along for this unhappy ride was a scooter a number of cars behind me, too scared to come closer.  It was at this time that my nemesis decided that in addition to backfiring big clouds of noxious black smoke (which I might add came in through the boot where there was a hole the size of a basket ball right above the exhaust pipe-I always had to have a window open for fear of inadvertently gasing myself while driving.), she would also, just for the sake of sport, throw in a flame or two.

It was at this juncture the scooter thought it would be a good time to get past this moving hazard violation. As I came to a standstill, I heard a loud crash and instantly thought someone had rear-ended me, only to see a metre and half long flame coming out of my exhaust pipe (and boot), just as the scooter was right behind me.

I could actually see the look of “holy shit did that car just throw a flame at me” on the terrified driver’s face. And the scooter? Well he thought he would rather brave a head on collision by passing me on a blind bend than spending another second behind my death trap. Wise move, if I could I probably would have gotten out too…

Nepotism and wine

I am not above nepotism, so if you are, I would suggest you stop reading.  Right Now.

I truly love the Bonnievale/Robertson/Ashton area.  I would move there in a heartbeat. Commuting to work may be a bit of a hassle, but move I will, just as soon as I can finally, successfully, apparate and dissapparate.

Just look at this website: http://www.farmerredbeard.co.za and see all that this wonderful Valley of Wine and Roses has to offer.  Just that name says it all.  Who wouldn’t want to visit a place with wine and roses?

So if you feel the need to break away for the weekend, or play truance for the week, this is definitely the place to go.

Sleepless in Marina

*CAUTION:

This post contains some vivid imagery, if you are at all like me, and think in pictures, I would suggest that you read no further. The author cannot and will not be held responsible for any therapy that you may need as a result of this post.*

This has been a week from hell in the sleeping department.  Somewhere during last weekend, my toddler has been replaced with someone else’s.  Can’t be mine, mine slept like an angel.

DH goes away every month for a week for work, he has done this since T’s birth, so there is nothing new, he has always taken it in his stride, and although I try to lessen the impact by spending extra quality time, this week it is simply not doing the trick.

He has been waking every night, without fail, at 2:00.  Not with the usual gurgling laughter and smiles, but with big crocodile tears and loud wails. He won’t take his bottle, dummy or even his beloved bunny (although Bunny’s shares have dropped decidedly since he donned some clothes-Gotta love Build a Bear).  The only way he calms down is by putting him in bed with me, which has left me with very little sleep as sharing a bed with him is the equivalent of sharing a bed with a hyperactive octopus or similar.

<I honestly don’t know how the co-sleeping parents do it, I am as ratty as a bear with toothache and it is been nary a week, I cannot imagine that this should be a permanent arrangement (apart from the fact of course that sharing a bed is as good as taking birth control-definitely not high on the list when TTC).>

Last night things got pretty out of hand.  He would not stop screaming, even when he was in the bed with me.  I was not even allowed to turn or move an inch.  As Murphy would have it that was about the same time that I had to go to the little girls room with the mother of all pee’s and there was just no getting up out of bed. Eventually, by the time that it felt I was about to spontaneously combust it seemed that he had finally fallen asleep.

I had barely gotten to the bathroom when he jumped up out of bed and proceeded to run about the house, frantically looking for me, while screaming at the top of his little lungs.  After a week of this it is little wonder the neighbours won’t greet me anymore. Any the way, this little tirade culminated, with him sitting on my lap, while I was on the loo.

I was really trying very hard at that point to hang onto the last dregs of sleep while trying to wipe and not have a complete sense of humour failure.  Alas twenty minutes later his was snoring his sweet cheeks off and I, was counting sheep.

Needless to say I am feeling rather green around the gills today and all would be well served to steer clear of me, as I am very likely to bite.