Monday, January 9, 2012

slowing time...

i almost feel embarrassed stepping out onto this stage because i haven't been here for so long.
remember me? don't blame you if you don't.
oh yes! (holding hand above eyes, and peering hopefully beyond the single spot light into a dark auditorium) i see three of you out there. oh my! hello! (waving prettily) tap. tap. tap. is this mic working? hello? dipping hat graciously and gratefully in your various directions, hello.

i've flashed in and out of zanzibar on a small plane, skimming precariously over the Pares Mountains - green jungled slopes sliced with silver, thread thin mountain streams and water falls, surrounded by the blood red tapestry of a hungry humanity closing in. wild monsoon storms swept over the old spice island, curling bone deep thunder shaking the ground and giant lightning forks electrifying the sea. back inland, up on the northern highlands, we sped bumpily into the dark bowels of mt meru, my friends and i. i spent hours staring wide eyed at the ancient ash cone, listening to sweet forest rain drip onto my canvas tent roof and the grey misted mornings echo with the eery howls of the invisible colobus monkeys. we drove high up through the avataresque mountain forests as far as we could go, my friends and i, hanging out the windows and feeling fresh and high on love and mountain air.

after my friends left for zambia, i wept inconsolably for 2 and a half days and thought, excitedly i must confess, that i might need 'help'. i mused whimsically on the hill, for the last week of the year, feeling ever so small and contemplative. the new year slid in quietly, peacefully, prettily, in fact, as johnnie, sue and i (actually johnnie. sue and i watched.) lit a chinese lantern, heroically and flagrantly ignoring all danger warnings in the instruction manual. we watched it float a marvelous unwavering and glowing course southwards as though the Southern Cross were its compass, our hearts it's wake.

so? who's made their proverbial resolutions? i have. i'm going to slow time down which, if you think about it, makes more of the evasive stuff. it's my does not involve dangerously strapping myself to Big Ben's arms, if you're thinking along those lines. i know i'm a big girl and it'd likely work, but no. no smarty pantses. i can hear you laughing with disbelief. tsk tsk. if you want to know how, you're going to have to pay me a lot of money. if i miss the train, i'll catch the next one and if there isn't another one, i'll walk and if, by an unfortunate chain of events i'm cripple, you'll piggyback me. somehow i'll get there and it won't matter how or how long it took.

i'm going to say 'no' without apologies. i'm going to do, say, sing and wear the things i love most, regardless. anyone who makes me feel bad, i'll shoot with my silver pistols. anyone who makes me feel good as in happy, as in giddy whooping leaping into the air happy, i'll love to the end, truly, madly, deeply. and that's a fact. i'm trashing obligation and guilt. i'm sending them into the shredder. every time.
"i'm sorry? what was that? did you say i HAVE to? i've GOT to? into the shredder with you." ah. there. nice. how very satisfactory.

my heart shall remain open, true, forgiving and curious. i am training my mouth to remain curved upwards like mona lisa's, even when i cry. (wrinkles are worryingly permanent things these days, it seems.) in which case, i shall start to learn to accept the inevitability of my wrinkles and the disobedience of my unruly, thinning, hair. and, above all, i shall continue to raise my children the best way i know how until...until i rest my weary head amongst the daisies

all of this takes time, you see. so i'm slowing it down and making more.

what are yours?

ps: and the cushions are going to be re covered. i tell you. once and for all.

kitchen board: january 2012: ngorobob hill house (crappy) kitchen.

my kitchen needs a revamp. clearly. the grater is so blunt it couldn't even shred an over boiled, limp carrot. but some of the crunchiest potatoes this side of the equator still pop out the old oven and remain a hill favourite. so then, it ain't all that bayaad.
toodely toot, y'all and a happy new year to all you bloggin' firecrackers. bisous X.X.X. smack on yer lips slow ones and for a long time. yeah. x j