memoirs of a kangaroo in the sun.

It was all because we had moved once again, my family and me. After some significant ups and downs, with more downs if we are being completely honest, we finally settled in an amazing place where we could all be together at peace. While looking for a place to eat one day, a friend of mine suggested a recently opened restaurant called Raves that was about a five minutes drive from my house. I was not disappointed at all. Not only was it very very close to my house, it was just my kind of place. Warm and homely, with dimmed yellow lights, soft music, great location, not too many of the people I know and it had really good food. I didn't know it then when my friend suggested that I try the mocca milkshake that a tradition had just started.  Not only did Raves become my go to place, the mocca milk shake became my drink. Before long, I was having all my first dates with the various pursuers at Raves. Then, all the waiters were asking if I wanted ‘the usual’, and ...

How long until that thing that looks shiny from afar becomes a dull dump pile of clay in your hands? Once, when you didn't have it yet,it was all you could think about. Day and night, you plotted and planned how to acquire this very valuable piece. You jumped through hoops and bent over backward for just a chance to bask in its glory. Then, on that fateful day, the stars smiled down upon you. Finally,it was yours... Yes, it was all bliss at first. all your hopes and dreams had come true. it was everything you had ever thought it was and so much more, and this was the best time of your life. And then not so much anymore. Suddenly,you noticed the leaks and cracks. You noticed that the surface wasn't as smooth and as even as you thought it was. The colors weren't as bright and glittery as they seemed before and the hinges were rusty and creaky. I guess the question is; how long does it take for the shiny and smooth to become cracked and dirty?Will you still want it af...

First off, let me start by saying I’m not a worrier. It’s my best and worst trait. Not worrying means I keep a straight face when the traffic officers stop us for overtaking and I don’t have my license with me, but then it also means I kept that same straight face when I came home with an E on my report card for chemistry. Needless to say, my “lack of concern” was not taken kindly by my parents. It also helps that the Bible has 365 “worry not’s” altogether, one for each day. So when I googled ‘causes of insomnia’, I was quite perturbed when each of the 376,590 results showed worry as one of the causes. Then came the self assessment, trying to see if indeed there were things in my life that people in general tend to worry about and the answer was a big fat no; my life is great and I have many many blessings to be thankful for. It took me a while to realize that the sneaky bastard had indeed found a crevice to crawl through into my life and once inside, went on to get c...

'Its funny how we always know its all in our heads and have to work our minds out of it. . .' I guess I just wanted to be perfect. I wanted to be the perfect person, the perfect friend, perfect sister, daughter, girlfriend, wife, mother, and most recently perfect aunt. Whenever people said that it's too hard, that it's almost impossible to balance this with that and still have time for the other, I thought they just weren't trying hard enough. I would be the one that went the extra mile. I would put more effort until I got there. No matter what. I would do it. Things don't always go the way we plan. Case in point; Wednesday of the week that's just ended; I decided to take my nephews and niece for a movie. It would be fun, we would laugh and eat popcorn and high five each other and I'd be the best aunt ever. The perfect aunt. In   preparation to be the perfect mother. I had it all planned out, every little detail, from the movie to the food to the ga...

I have two terrible habits, and each one compliments the other and magnifies it. The first one involves giving up on people too easily. When someone, especially someone I consider a friend does something insensitive, cruel or downright evil, at the back of my head something snaps and that person’s name is immediately transferred to the black book in my mind. Now I know what you’re thinking; everybody makes mistakes once in a while, and I know that too! I just can’t help myself.  Maybe I should explain that the black book doesn't necessarily mean that I spit whenever I see you… it just means that from now on, I have to watch what I say or do around you very closely, which might as well be the end of our friendship because once I have to watch what I say and do around you, I’m not going to see the point in hanging around you anymore because i) I can’t be bothered. Ii) I don’t have that energy and iii) I’m all about genuine. So all in all, in the long run, I will still have ...

Got this foward today and it spoke to me so much, I thought I'd share it... When I say... "I am a Christian" I'm not shouting "I'm clean living." I'm whispering "I was lost," Now I'm found and forgiven. When I say..."I am a Christian" I don't speak of this with pride. I'm confessing that I stumble and need CHRIST to be my guide. When I say... "I am a Christian" I'm not trying to be strong. I'm professing that I'm weak and need HIS strength to carry on. When I say... "I am a Christian" I'm not bragging of success. I'm admitting I have failed and need God to clean my mess. When I say... "I am a Christian" I'm not claiming to be perfect, My flaws are far too visible but, God believes I am worth it. When I say... "I am a Christian" I still feel the sting of pain, I have my share of heartaches So I call upon His name. When I say... ...

I miss those Saturday afternoons where you combed your hair, dressed your best and your parents took you with them to a wedding Those Sunday evenings where immediately after church, you drove to your aunt's place to visit and play with your cousins. I miss those Saturday afternoons where you stayed in the dormitory sleeping or went boys end just do to nothing. Those Sunday evenings where you reacted spaghetti in percolator and shared with all your classmates or went for 'entertainment' just to see your crush and hope he says hi to you I miss those Saturday afternoons where you closed shop at 4pm instead of 6 pm to meet your friends at Nandos and prayed your boss wouldn't choose that day to pass by. Those Sunday evenings where you got home and went straight to your room praying your parents wouldn't notice how late it is. I miss those Saturday afternoons where you woke up at 2pm after a wild Friday night just to shower, eat and then head back to sleep. Those ...