Sensory Overload

Tastes I relish:
Chili, ginger and garlic combos; a rich and decadent chocolate anything; sturdy home cooking; peanut butter straight up off a teaspoon; coriander; melted cheese with mustard; the burn on my tongue of single malt scotch.

Smells that make me melt:
The Highveld after it rains; a heady perfume with spicy undertones; vanilla/ginger/milk bubble baths; babies just after they’ve been bathed; hair after its been washed; fresh bread being toasted; fabric softener that reminds me of my childhood; freshly laundered clothes; real leather; the smell of fresh fruit after its just been cut; a just showered man who smells like soap.

Sights that excite:
Thrashing lightning dancing across a black clouded sky; colours of autumn; good interior decorating; fresh flowers; the sky just before sunrise when its all pink.

Sounds that make me smile:
Silence; wind blowing through trees; giggling kids; music, music, music; the content sigh of a lover just before they fall asleep; water flowing; rain falling.

I like to touch & feel:
Soft skin; an expressionful face; fresh crisp linen on a bed that’s just been made up; soft grass under my bare feet; fleecy blankets in the winter.

Morning

I woke up to the feel of your warm skin next to mine, and my face nuzzled in your neck. The smell of your hair gently tickled my nose, and my arm wrapped over your waist rose and fell with your breathing. It feels so good to hold you again, your perfect body a blessing in my bed.
Your smile is infectious, and as you open your eyes it spreads warmly from your lips to mine. The sun rises outside. Your arms open and envelop me. As I lay my head on your chest I hear your heart beating steadily, and I feels like I am home.

If you are my reward for all the good stuff that I try to do in this world, then whomever it is who determines my fate, has recognized my efforts and has given me the greatest gift I could ever have dreamed of.

It's the end of the world as we know it (and I feel fine)

It's one of those mildly irritating songs. I can't remember the band's name that sang it, I can't remember any more of the lyrics other than the chorus, and I keep messing it up with another tune, but for some reason I always seem to sing those words to myself when the smelly stuff seems to be hitting the proverbial fan and slanking its way down the walls.

When I woke up on Sunday morning South Africa had a president. Granted, we can all say what we want about the country and its state of political affairs (chaos?), but I, like millions of the masses, managed to ignore it as things that seemed to be progressing in the way that we were used to. Then I read the papers. Oops. Seems we don't really have a president after all. I laughed it off after listening to his resignation address to the nation on Sunday night, and the subsequent reports by some intelligent nutty-looking professor type about how this is 'normal for a democracy' and how 'in other countries, heads of state come and go'. I felt much better, and shoved my head back in the sand and my arse high up in the air. After all, I have always been a keen supporter of noone but Uncle Trevor Manuel, and the man everybody loves to hate, Mr Tito Mboweni. No, I don't care what he earns either... do you see a sub-prime lending crisis in South Africa?!? As long as we had them, we were good to go for at least another 14 years of corruption, greed, and all other normal political playings in a fledgling democracy.

Imagine my suprise when I read that my favourite Uncle had resigned today. What? Somebody tell me that you are joking. Pretty please? The Rand plummeted through its own arsehole, the million remaining whites in the North Eastern suburbs started phoning emigration attornies and shipping companies, and I furiously tried to keep up with all the breaking news on every website I could think of. An hour later, he had said something like he is resigning as he was appointed at the pleasure of the (now, but only until Thursday) president, and in light of Mbeki's resignation that he had also resigned, but he would certainly be open to serving a new president and cabinet if asked to do so. Erm, I don't mean to jump the gun here, but for poo's sake, can somebody ask already? Quickly. Preferably with a smile.

Safe and secure with the 'knowledge' that Uncle Trev is going nowhere, and Mr Mboweni really likes his new salary so he ain't about to up and jump, I can gratefully assume the ostrich position. Don't slap my arse as you walk past please. It wobbles and makes me terribly upset.

PS. oooh! oooh! I googled it. How could I forget that it's classic R.E.M
PPS. What the hell did we do before Google?
PPPS. I really have no opinion on politics, I just find it fun to watch the effects on the rand performance everytime one of our dear politicians opens their mouths