Tuesday, May 20, 2008

dark, very dark places and little dark secrets....

The Road Not Taken by Robert Frost

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood

And sorry I couldn't travel both

and be one traveler, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth.

Then took the other one, as just as fair

And having perhaps the better claim

because it was grassy and wanted wear;

Though as for that the passing there

Had worn them really about the same.

And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I kept the first for another day.

Yet knowing how way leads on to way,

I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,

I took the one less travelled by,

And that has made all the difference.

what on earth did we do that for, huh? take the less travelled road in this bloody quagmire? (see above pic)

for the adventure? the romance? to learn something? because it's more interesting? because we were young once and that's what you did? well. we ended up getting so bloody stuck it's not true. (although heroic bush husband craig never gets stuck - he gets temporarily delayed...) . this is the road which leads to our hill, ngorobob. this is what the effing factory has done to the road, by using tractors and trailers on it after like 2 inches of rain. this mud is called black cotton soil. you get stuck in this kind of mud. especially when there are craters in the tracks in which you could hide ten volksie beetles...and hell, maybe even a cattle truck or two. i shouldn't complain. really i shouldn't because we have a tarmac road all the way to this point, built by the Effing Factory. sal thinks we would be better off without the factory and the tar road. and i agree with her. even if it meant getting stuck more often. anyway. we have the tarmac road, the factory and this chocolate mousse mess to consider on a daily basis. and such is life. because it leads home. home high on the hill.

fortunately for me it did not rain last night. (remember i wrote a piece called "spring has finally sprung"? well. i lied. it hasn't. its been frigging freezing and grey and wet since then but the yellow flowers and flame lillies burn bravely on in the cold grey of what seems to be a sly winter sneaking in the back door earlier than usual. and we have officially started lighting fires at night!) anyway. yes. it did not rain last night so the road below was dry ish. no 4 wheel drive neccessary en route to the salon today, or rather The Saloon as salons are called in these parts. this is a rare and divine treat.

call me jen now. as in jennifer arniston. get it? my hair is all blond and straight and flappy and even if i say so myself, totally vogue and glam. LOVE it. this lasts, along with my euphoria, precisely 24 hours, before i go back to being janelle and frizzy haired. in fact, i went to the saloon because i needed that wax, which i mentioned last week already! so you can imagine?? well. don't. it's nasty. i felt and looked not too dissimilar to babette the baboon spider previously blogged about. um - very hairy. i reckon i lost about 2 kgs in body hair.

i love the saloon. i love everyone who works there and the atmosphere and all the people you meet as you sit there looking like an astronaut who has just stuck his silver helmet through the cheese grater, with all those foils in your hair....or some strange sea person from the city of atlantis, trying to deal with webbed feet (like in training your toes to stay seperate so you too can be an earthling) , with those yellow rubber things between your toes and that big black batman cloak. no wonder i made a scene in the little shop when i went to buy myself a chocolate for lunch. yellow rubbers, foils, my batman cloak. i scare people. (god. i do. and mostly without the costume.)

i had to confess to T (our highly regarded hair executive and owner of saloon, who has the dubious task of making sure we all look presentable and jouge) that indeed we had a lice problem at home and maybe she should just check before she infested the entire saloon . thank god no-one else was there at the time. and thank god i was clean. massively relieved! tra la.

but it's the magazines! oh joy. to have the time to idly flip through pages and pages of "Style" and what's "in" and glossy "Blah" whilst your feet are massaged and painted is beyond bliss. i read a piece about men's G Spots. (why are they called G as opposed to "O!" Spots?) anyway. apart from the obvious, the other main "G" spot is in a dark, very dark place. and i throw flowers in the path of any girl brave enough to dig deep enough to hit it. (oh and it said make sure your nails are trimmed before you, you know,you um, insert ......oooooooooooeeeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrrgh) . S pointed out that there was an article on what to do to your girl, if you are a guy, of course, well i assume.

sigh sigh. haven't we all had enough? can't we just stop? i say, rolling my eyes to the back of my foiled head.

at the saloon you get to meet all your mates...hastily rushing in to de hair, re hair, paint their nails and have a coffee and a chin wag. it's all delectably girly and warm hearted. and men are more than welcome. saw M this morning looking all sporty in her trainers and track suit. she has recently walked out of her job, and rightly so. she had to endure some weird psycho who was constantly stalking her to check up she wasn't stealing or something crazy like that..so she decided to walk the plank rather than stay on psycho's sinking (and stinking) ship. i adored her facebook update which said ," Mental Men Should Be Kept In Dark, Very Dark Places." we discussed the various options; her container in her garden which gets so hot it can burn your hair right off seemed to be the most reasonable one. and it's dark. very dark. i mentioned this to one of T's customers in the saloon, the only man in fact. he shyly replied that he wasn't sure whether he should be scared or not.

he should be scared. and act sane at all times, especially when M is around.

gabby managed to ride her little blue peugeot bicycle in a straight line, well, almost, towards the rain gauge. we had to stop suddenly because she had this very very dark secret she had to tell and i promised not to tell anyone.( i shall be struck down, i know it.) so i leant down (not too close because i don't want to catch her lice although i think i have combed them all away...but still not chancing it now that I have a clean bill of hair..) and she whispered:

GABBY: "Do you know that the easter bunny really isn't a bunny?" round eyed and deeply sincere.

ME: "God! No! Really? Then who brings the eggs?"

GABBY: staring around to make sure no-one is in the near vicinity to partake in this deep secret, " It's Paul Oliver. He is the bunny. He makes all the eggs."

Paul is a dear friend of ours. Another bush hero. (http://www.pauloliversafaris.com/) and i had NO idea that he doubled up as The Universal Easter Bunny. But now i do and everything falls into place and it makes so much sense.

received an sms all the way from pangani from daniel's teacher. i have to share it with you. it makes my heart burst from its straps in my chest, burst into a riot of flowers of love:

Congratulations.your son is a joy 2 b with. u shd be very proud.

more than anyone can possibly imagine. my sweet golden gentle danu pops. you see. that camping training down in lake eyasi is paying off.....

1 comment:

tam said...

oh that dear Danu. I would go camping with him anytime.