My spreadsheet brain
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Hubstopher’s near death experience
Have I told you guys about Hubstopher’s near death experience? No? Gasp! Well, girlfriend, grab a chair, you need to sit down for this one! This story has become our party trick – you know, the story we share at parties, when everyone’s doing “show and tell”. Hubstopher loves telling it to people simply because of the sheer ridiculousness of the situation. It goes a little something ilke this:
One day, a couple of years before we got married (when Hubstopher was still Christopher) he asked me to get all dressed up, because he wanted to take me out. Normally I wouldn’t freak out about a dinner date but the dude specifically told me to “wear heels”. It immediately sparked my attention because he prefers me to wear flats and be comfortable. Being the rational, sane, female that I am, an immediate thought crossed my mind: “It’s about to go dowwwwwn! He’s going to propose!! AAAACK!!!”
Now, the thing about knowing when your man is going to propose is that you have to remember to be selfless and act as if you were not expecting it 😉 So that’s what I did! Well, I first (OBZ) had to tell my closest friends that homeboy ’bout to put a ring on it (okay, I don’t actually speak like that in real life) and then I got dressed in my recently purchased best, donned a pair of heels, applied make up and spritzed some perfume. I said a thank you to the heavens that my nails had recently been done because hello engagement ring photos. When Chris picked me up, he looked especially dashing and had a twinkle in his eye and I could tell that he appreciated the “extra care” I had put into looking good, that night.
We took a long drive and ended up at a really fancy shmancy restaurant. I swear when we got there the doorman looked at us as if he had been waiting for us… It was a set up! He knew something I did not know! Aaack! The waiter showed us to what appeared to be a specially thought out table, in the corner, where a freshly lit candle had aptly been waiting to welcome us. We sit down and I stare across at Chris, wondering how he was going to propose and what I was going to say. The restaurant wasn’t as full, so I knew not to expect a full on, everyone clapping hands, kind of reaction when he went down on his knee. I was prepared for it. But I wasn’t prepared. You know? Like, somewhere inbetween nervous and excited.
Anyways, Chris cooly opens his menu (mine was laying down in front of me) and scans the detail. For someone who usually is an energy ball, he was keeping his composure like an expert. I was super impressed! He then gestured to me, to open my menu. And that’s when it dawned on me… the ring was probably inside the menu!!! AAACK! Hot flushes, cold sweats, goosebumps on goosebumps, freaking out on the inside, keeping my cool on the outside…
He said: “Open your menu, and see what’s inside.”
I replied: “No, no thank you.” Because nerves.
He urged: “Please… open your menu… I want to show you something…”
I responded: “…uhhh… okay… ” I opened the menu, slowly, turning the cover back, to reveal the blank first page. What witchcraft is this? My heart could not take anymore!He encouraged: “Turn the page, it’s on the other side.”
I replied: “No, I really don’t want to!” I was scared. It was that realization that this could be it! My palms were sweaty and I felt a smile twitching, but I held it back because I knew that he had put a lot of work into this and I wanted him to think that I truely was surprised.He asked again: “Please, will you check the menu?”
Right. This could be it! I flipped the first page over, to reveal…..
Nothing. No ring.I pointed out: “There’s nothing here.”
He replied: “Scroll down, and see what it says at the bottom. “And then it dawned on me: The guy had printed a special menu!
He probably had the words WILL YOU MARRY ME, engraved at the bottom! AACK!!!!
I scanned the menu, excitedly, looking for those magic words… and found:Still nothing. Hmmm…
I said: “There’s still nothing here.” Maybe I missed it?
He replied: “Look! Right at the bottom!….
They sell chicken livers here!”
And that’s how Christopher Williams almost lost his life.
Just joking! But I was pretty peeved off for the rest of the night and I couldnt even tell him why. Needless to say, the ring did not make an appearance that night.
He did, however, propose a while later, on a stage! And this time it really was a surprise! And a big one at that! But you can read more about it here 🙂 Ahhh my spreadsheet brain… the gift that keeps on giving.
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Life changes when you hit 30
Life changes when you hit 30. Well, I’m convinced. I don’t know about all you other 30-somethings, but I could feel the change in season the year that I said good bye to my 20’s. (Which was not this year, btw) I mean, it’s not a popular way to think and you won’t find it on a Drake swag note or anything, but when you end your 20s, you kinda say goodbye to your youth… your wonder years, if I may. You grow up. You grow OLDER.
For most, when you turn 30 years old, you acquire an amazing super power (some choose not to indulge in this super power, mind you). It’s called SENSIBILITY. You apply it to your everyday life and find yourself concerned with things that probably did not come up when you were younger. Things like: are you banking with the right financial institution and have you bought enough life cover. You take out insurance and pay school fees and make sure your drivers license is renewed. You try to eat healthy and value your parents more and notice when a young child says “please” and “thank you” because it’s so rare nowadays.
You also find yourself being super picky about who you surround yourself with. Life gets busy and you’re not the “stay awake until 3am” business anymore, so idly sitting around with people who you do not have a relationship with becomes less appealing.
You become so aware of time… the amount of hours you get to sleep and the amount of leave days you’ve accumulated at work and how long it will take you to drive to your kid’s school, from home, when your whole household woke up 20 minutes late. You learn to savor the fun moments, because it’s a break away from the norm. And you reach a point where you either long for the things you were passionate about in your late teens/twenties OR you find yourself eagerly pursuing them.
I think that 30 is where you realize that life is short and you have to make the most of it! It’s a season of reaping whatever you’ve sown in your 20s and for some, that could be a really scary harvest to reap. For the longest time I thought that I had to survive my 30s… because when you’re 40, it’s that much easier to accept the fact that you’re not 20 anymore (hahaha)… But hey, I don’t want to SURVIVE my 30s… I want to THRIVE in my 30s! How about you?
I mean, don’t get me wrong friend, 30 does not mean that your life is over and you need to start preparing for the grave. Rather, it’s a reminder that it’s not too late to do the things you said you’d do when you were a teenager. You know, writing that book, climbing that mountain, studying for that degree or starting that family. In fact, I dare you to do it!
So that’s where I’m at… regroup, regroup, reeeggrrroooouppp! Because life is too short to wonder about what could have been. Unless you’re Adele. Then you could just write a song about it and become a millionaire.
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I shouldn’t be alive: I could have been aborted {Birthday Celebrations}
Go shorty! It’s my birthday! Well not today, tomorrow. And I’m not short. But that’s not the point here. As you can tell, I’ve been living in a glass cage of emotion the past few days. As the 18th of March draws closer I’m filled with more emotion than I care to share. I guess it’s exciting to turn one year older when you’re like, 20, and you can’t wait to be 21. But after you reach that 30 year mark, it all becomes one big blur of birthday celebrations and you find a deeper meaning behind each year that God has blessed you with. -
I shouldn’t be alive: How I almost partied my life away {Birthday Celebrations}
So it’s my birthday in a couple of days time and I’m just chilling here like “whaaaaat”. Literally. I’m asking myself “What? It’s my birthday? Again?” I feel like I turned 30 just the other day. Life is but a breath and one should savor and appreciate every, single, moment. I’m still alive. And that means that I still have purpose and destiny.
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The day I fell out of a moving vehicle
So it’s my birthday in a few days time and instead of planning birthday celebrations, I find myself catching a whole bunch of feelings. I mean, guys, life is a gift! The very fact that we are still alive means that there is purpose and value and untapped potential in us, just waiting to be… well… tapped into! There are probably 100’s of reasons why I shouldn’t be alive today, but I’m still here, and that’s got to mean something. Allow me to elaborate…
The day I fell out of a moving vehicle.
My uncle was a backyard mechanic, with stained overalls and oily hands and car parts everywhere… He was a hero in our eyes. He told the best ghost stories and made everything seem more exciting somehow. He would often take my cousins and I (all in primary school and younger) with him when he went to test drive the cars that he would fix for clients and friends.One particular day, a boisterous bunch of cousins piled into a rather ancient vehicle, to “help” my uncle test drive it. It was school holidays and we had slept over at my grandma’s place, but we were bored. So even though he was only going for a short, slow drive around the block, we were excited to be doing something with him. We jumped into the old “skadonkie”, with 7 year old me claiming my place on the back seat behind the driver’s seat, and took off on our adventurous drive around the block. Everyone was chatting away and telling “knock knock” jokes or something – I can’t really remember because I was in my own imaginary Enid Blyton fueled world (as usual) – when a couple of minutes later, I found myself rolling in the street.
Rolling… my head in sync with a passing vehicle’s wheel. I remember watching its hub caps rotate as I spin next to it. I eventually rolled down a grassy embankment, totally dazed, not realizing what had just happened. As I got up to try to make my way back to the road, I noticed that my shoe had slipped further down the small hill. I rationalised that I simply could not leave my shoe behind! So I made my way further down the hill to get my shoe, before I hiked back up, trying to get back to the road.
Funny enough, the car was still in sight (he was driving that slow) but my dear uncle had still not realized that quiet Luchae was missing. You see, the door of the vehicle had been faulty and had not closed properly. It seems, as I leaned against, it quickly snapped open, creating a gap big enough for tiny me to slip through, and then slammed shut again. So there I was, limping along the side of road, watching the beat up “skadonkie” indicate as it was about to turn a corner and disappear into oblivion. All I could think was “must I really walk home alone?” I wasn’t allowed to roam around alone. What would my mom say? I eventually burst out crying, limping my way in the direction of home, with a shoe in my hand.The “skadonkie” then came to a halt, as my uncle and cousins realized that I was gone, and I watched it make a u-turn, relief washing over me. A trip to the doctor and an injection later and I was a legend. By the grace of God there were no broken bones and no concussion! Besides for not having any injuries, the mere fact that another car did not flatten me, is a miracle in itself!
Needless to say, I pretty much made it into one of the top 10 family stories repeated at family functions. Which is not always a good thing.
Have you survived an accident, or event, in your childhood that is best described as a miracle? Please do share 🙂
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My week in pics: micro fashion, bridesmaid dresses and nail art
This week feels like someone literally took a drive down to a garbage dump, chose a few items, wrapped it up and wrote “Luchae’s week” on it. But then I check out my week in pics and realize that I am being an Aunty Moana – I am blessed, God is good and I have so much to be thankful for!
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My week in pics: Weddings, Dresses and Growing Up
As far as these things go, this week has been especially tiring. I have pics to prove it. We seem to be over the top busy lately! So, couple that with excitement and bleughness and coffee (lots of coffee) and you’ll probably be slap dab in the middle of my week. BTW I just spelt “coffee” – COUGHY and sat here staring at the word for a couple of minutes trying to figure out why it looks wrong. Yeah, tiredness level: Mushy Brain.
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My nanny thinks she’s Leon Schuster
I love my baby’s nanny. Let’s call her Maria, for privacy reasons. Maria is in her late 50’s and is a wonderful woman. I love the way she looks after our girl – I’ve even walked in on her, with a toy on her head, trying to make Kari laugh. You can’t buy that kind of devotion. But she’s not that clued up when it comes to technology – which is no train smash… I know a few older folk who think that Whatsapp is pure evil anyways. So it’s not a shocker.But ey, this woman has a really weird way of calling me. By “calling”, I mean phoning. And by “weird”, I mean she gets other people to speak on her behalf – which is okay, but then, get this, they pretend to be HER! “Hi Luchae, it’s Maria here!” – when the voice clearly belongs to a 20 year old. I’ve had older ladies call, pretending to be her. I’ve had younger ones call in, saying they are her. But yesterday, she just took the whole cake!
It first started off as a random phone call from someone who wanted to remind me that they aren’t coming to work because they are going for their check up at the hospital. Usually by now I’d piece together that this is another Maria impersonator, calling on her behalf. And friends, I normally play along. I’m that person. But this time was different. This time, the impersonator was a MAN! This MAN is now phoning me, as Maria, to say that “she” isn’t coming in. After a few shocked minutes of silence I was like, “Uhmmm no I dont know who you are!” and ended the call.
He then called back to say that he is, in fact, calling on her behalf.
*insert cricket chirps*So yes, that was confirmation: our dear Maria has a thing about talking on cellphones. She’s not keen. But this “whose voice is it anyways” is freaking me out!
It makes me feel like someones going to jump out from behind the couch and point me to a cleverly hidden camera.
Is… is this a joke? Ahhh Maria, you jokester you!
So funny! Noooot. -
So what’s up with Black Friday? {True Story}
So Black Friday is upon us and we anxiously await to see what type of promotions some of our favorite stores will be running this time around. And let’s be honest Patricia, we can get really into it. Like, really really into it. Like, abandon all pride and dignity for a sale into it. Kidding! But hey, Black Friday is probably the biggest shopping day of the year and people end up queuing for days (exaggerating a tad bit) to be able to grab pretty decent specials.
It got me thinking: what’s up with Black Friday? I mean… how’d it start? We know that it originated in America. But what does the name “Black Friday” mean? So I Googled and cross checked my sources and dug a bit deeper and this is what I found:
The truth behind Black Friday
Some people believe that Black Friday got it’s name from American retailers. These business owners supposedly gave it the nickname after anticipating the move of profits that were “in the red” to “in the black” (after Thanksgiving). But that’s not the entire story though.Apparently the term “Black Friday” was first used in 1869 when 2 greedy financiers, Jay Gould and Jim Fisk, bought up all the nation’s gold supply, in order to up it’s price and sell it at a huge profit. This resulted in the market crashing and hundreds of people losing their lives savings.
The term popped up again in the 1950’s in Philadelphia when police offers started using it to refer to the day after Thanksgiving.
The American holiday saw hordes of people flooding the city’s shopping district before the yearly Army-Navy football game, on the Saturday after Thanksgiving. Because of this police officers were forced to work on that day. So it has always been a pretty bleak time for them, thus dubbed “Black Friday.”
The nickname was remixed when merchants jumped in to claim it as a day that they would run specials. It was changed to “Big Friday”, but that did not stick.
“Black Friday” soon spread all across America and gave birth to other shopping days, such as Cyber Monday and Gray Thursday. Stores try to capitalize on the Thanksgiving holiday by keeping it’s doors open, much to the dismay of its workers. Shame.
So, there you have it. You’re welcome.
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Throwback Thursday: Re-introducing Eliza Foogle
I’ve been blogging for many years.
I think 1Direction still attended primary school when I created this account.
But I did not start off as a “public blogger”. In fact, I only started sharing my posts via social media at the beginning of this year, when I blogged about breastfeeding and thought that other moms would appreciate my positive angle on it.The more I think about it, the more I realize how down I was on myself, with regards to writing.
I mean, I wanted to write. I wanted to be a writer. But I did not deem myself worthy enough.
Even after my great revelation in 2011 where I realized that all I need to do to be a writer is to WRITE (so profound hey) I still held myself back, with doubt and negative “stinking thinking”.I had started writing my first book in 2008 (I mentioned it here) – a quirky story about a nerdy teenager, Eliza Foogle, who, just like me, had the most randomest life ever. But alas, as with most things I start, I lost vooma. I mean, I had a lot going on in my life. So my focus shifted and I kinda just ditched the project.
And then after my “great writers revelation” I tried to pick up where I left off and wrote another chapter or 2. I decided to post it on my blog (even though no one would read it), as a way to hold myself accountable to finishing it. That never happened.
Today, while looking for something else, I discovered Eliza Foogle again. What a huge throwback for me!
It reminded me of the fearful girl I was back then and the brave woman I am today. (Self proclaimed).
I don’t know if I will ever finish Eliza Foogle. I may never write another chapter again. But I believe that sharing this draft is the first step towards unleashing whatever has been placed inside of me. As I’ve said in a previous throwback post, every passion planted in your heart, was put there on purpose. And it is our great responsibility to do something purposeful with it!So, dear friends, it is with great joy and much trepidation and a lot of “I’m so scared right now”, that I reintroduce Eliza Foogle to you. Please be kind 🙂
Here’s a little snippet with a link to the rest of the original post, which I published on my blog in July 2011.
“All my life, I thought of myself as being fairly smart. Not especially clever, but not stupid either. I knew the right side of up and could figure out most of the cryptic crosswords in my weekly glossy magazine. I was the kind of girl who shouted out all the answers while watching The Weakest Link every Tuesday night, but would stutter when asked a simple question, like: What is your name? But today, as I lay here on my kitchen floor with apple pie clinging to my long dark hair, surrounded by broken records, torn photographs and an aging Beetles t-shirt, I realize that I am not smart at all. I, Eliza Foogle, am a silly silly woman…” to the original post
