these things are not supposed to happen. i shall sue the bastards. i thought birkenstocks were the most healthiest shoes on the entire planet. so how come i got blisters then?
maybe my feet are simply too sinful for them.
my car is home. smooth. faultless. and alive. oh joy. what a magnificent machine, i say.
miranda and i were stopped by the police this morning on our way home, in My Car. the cracked bloody windscreen all over again. yawn yawn. miranda frantically telling me to smile smile smile...she knows how i can be.
(note: the below conversation was all in swahili until the end)
police: cracked window. got to fine you. (both heads stuck through mo's window and me smiling like a mental person)
me; (smiling some more and looking prettily helpless like we allegedly and unconsciously - OF COURSE - train ourselves to do ... i rather think it's cunningly contrived, the helplessness thingy) um oh yes indeed officer, it is. um. cracked. clearly. ahem.
police: well. how did that happen?
me: oh you know those big blue trucks, loaded with stones?? well one stone fell off the truck and hit my windscreen...er, near coffee lodge. late one evening. excuse me officer? the police report? oh dear. yes yes lost of course. (ssssssssssmiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiling away)
police: when did this accident happen?
me: oh um about, um, eergh...
police: a few years ago? hah hah. you are so busted and we are going to fine the hell out of you.
me and mo: righto then. yes yes of course. on our way to ikwans anyway so no problem we can pop into the police station en route. (mo grappling around with the lock on the back door smiling all the time) what a fabulous idea hooray... ( really really smiling a LOT now with teddy bears picnic music playing in the background)
oh blah blah blah..they let us go with a warning, us smiling like two escapees from the looney bin, smiling insanely until our cheeks hurt, whilst they gargled on in swahili about something pertaining to presents in a chinese restaurant and milk? LOTS of milk? our swahili fortunately failed us in the translation. it was beginning to sound, well, sordid.
had a boozy sunday christening yesterday. i felt so honored as was asked to sing a song during the ceremony. i chose angel from Montgomery (a john prine song, my favourite version sung by bonnie rait) which is a song close to my heart. and i think one of hope yet cuttingly real. of course i was as nervous as a pig on the way to the abattoir. for two reasons: i worried that the cowboy song wasn;t entirely appropriate and also, obviously, that i wasn't up to the task of singing solo in front of people i know, mostly. i alleviated this with the odd swig from a mini tequila bottle hidden amongst the christening gift, my new little elegant handbag and my one and only lipstick. my voice wobbled emotionally about quite a lot. first born said it was ok but a bit embarrassing when i closed my eyes and sort of threw myself about in a rolling stones fashion, near the alter. rubbish.
i was particularly proud of little natalia who, unlike her sweet brother, adamantly refused to be anointed. she squirmed about in her father's arms saying " i won't i won't i won't!" anointed she was not to be, short of tying her down, which would have been really embarrassing and not to say, unequivocally unfair.
after the ceremony, i proceeded to get pleasantly and entirely drunk. yesterday was a lazy sunny sunday of blessings, good friends and most excellent champagne, wine, food and inspiring conversations about which i have vague recollections. apart from the one about chocolate brown underwear. it was particularly unforgettable. or forgettable, if you were me.
obviously fashionably underweared person recently returned from america and latest victoria secret shops: "..you know, there are so many unusual designs and COLOURS out there now... you know, not your usual tan and black.." while i quickly tucked away my rude black bra strap and widened my eyes in solemn interest
me; " or flaming red..." uncomfortable pause, " ...no? oh."
never knowing when to go home i continued, "well everytime i have worn my flaming red bra i have had an outrageously good time.. . . oooergh, sorry um, what were you saying?"
keep up, janelle, keep up. godsakes.
anyway. chucked out that old bra years ago....
where are my birkkies?
Kitchen Board: Monday Evening: 11 AUGUST 2008.(actually this was taken last night. its more interesting. tonight's is blank and kind of pointless)
Contributors: Veronica, the illustrious Ms Natasha Illum Berg and one Daniel Doria
Comments: you know, they just can't take me and my blogging seriously. . .
toodely pip and xxx bisous xxx janelle