Awesome people I know : The Weekend Wizzard

And that's "normal weekend fare"!

Some time ago I thought it might be a cool idea to highlight some of the wonderful friends I have. I could highlight each and every one of them as they all rock in their own way. Without them I would be nothing. I would probably also starve, not have anyone to confide in, not get to laugh as much, and lately, not get to go anywhere. But there are a few who I think I should tell you about. Promote, if you will. Because these guys are either working hard to achieve their dreams, have inspired me to achieve mine, hard workers who never complain, have risen above the odds to do amazing things, or are simply making our society a better place (and we all need more of those!)

First up we have The Weekend Wizzard. Who is actually none other than Mom Friend's other half. Between them they have a small curly-haired cherub of a daughter who is being groomed to be the next master-chef (or a really good wife with great dish washing and skills). Luckily for me, The Weekend Wizzard and family live down the road. Literally a 10 minute walk - which is even more fantastic right now as I am car-less. I am the most blessed person on the planet with this situation as not only can Mom Friend and I sit and yak for hours on end (whilst being interrupted intermittently by offers of tea in fairy-sized teacups by The Cherub), The Weekend Wizzard is a bloody amazing cook.

I have had the honour of scoffing the most delightful meals pretty much once a week for months now. And I am not talking toast and marmite folks, I am talking falafels with tzatziki, the best home-made pizzas (made from scratch, including the base), home-baked breads, not to mention tasty curries and braais where there were wonderfully innovative ideas instead of the usual dop n' chop. Ok, I have yet to try the Lamb fillet flambéed in tequila, but perhaps that's because I may polish off the tequila before he can cook with it. He has also promised to show me how to make pies using a muffin tray which will be most useful for my love of holding parties (and my love of pies).

The Weekend Wizzard isn't a chef by trade, but he should be. His love of cooking and coming up with recipes is evident in everything he does in the kitchen. They say you should cook with love and that's exactly what he does. He doesn't have the time or money to attend fancy cheffing courses or enter Master Chef, so he does the best he can with what he's got. Passion for food and cooking is a great start and I always maintain that anything you do with passion will be a success. Over time I have watched The Weekend Wizard expand his cooking repertoire and even start growing his own vegetables. I have had to listen to him passionately warble on about the different types of tomatoes (small price to pay).

Nowadays you can find him blogging for TASTE magazine. Yes, that fancy much-loved-by-foodies mag from the Woolworths crowd. That is no mean feat and worth a great big applause. And, TASTE are so damn impressed with him, they are now sponsoring ingredients for him to come up with recipes. But wait, there's more. The Weekend Wizzard entered into a competition for Pasella, involving film crews, much rushing around to set up venue for filming and lots of boerewors and dough. He was chosen as a finalist and tonight he will be on TV! Standing bloody ovation please...

The Weekend Wizzard is starting to live the dream and if that isn't bloody inspirational to those of us who are constantly trying to live the dream, then I don't know what is. Cynics be gone... he is proof that if you want something badly enough and follow it up with hard work and passion - it'll be yours for the taking. So here's to you my friend ... onwards and upwards. Tis the year ...

So, watch The Weekend Wizard on Pasella on SABC2 at 7.30pm tonight. He may only be on for 10 minutes, but a whole lot better than the 5 seconds most of us get in life. Watch him make his now-famous and supremely delicious Baked boerie rolls (which I was lucky enough to be treated to this weekend). Then go vote for him. He deserves to win (from sheer determination alone, besides the fact that he is an excellent cook).

I will definitely be watching... from the comfort of their couch scoffing (no doubt yummy) home-made burgers, yakking to Mom Friend and getting tea from The Cherub. Ah yes, I choose my friends well...

ps... It doesn't end there. He's been chatting to Justin Bonello (and Justin doesn't just chat to anyone) and there's a lot of work being done on a recipe book that where proceeds will go to charity. Watch this space!

A brush with Basil

Remember Basil Brush? The fox with the wicked laugh... I do! Which of course shows my age, but am past worrying about that. I can out-party the youngsters out there any day. Ok, admittedly the recovery time is much longer, but staying power is what is important. The only people I have met who can probably out-party me are The Machine (who is older than me, gasp!), The Monster (he is an aging rockstar after all) and the gal who introduced me to the joys of tequila, Seamonster (who is also older than me, wahoo!). Put all four of us in a room with an unlimited supply of cactus juice and it will get wild. Just realised that two of those friends have the word monster in their names. It’s a sign ... monstrous good times!

Talking of fun and good times (two of my favourite things), the highlight of my weekend was having the company of Basil. And he was pretty foxy too. In a green gangstamobile way. Hailing from Mitchell’s Plain, he was kindly lent to me by Barmy Bernie. With a full tank to boot. Rocking friend huh! You better believe it (come to think of it, BB could probably out-party me too). So, cabin fever be banished, I had Ford Escort freedom!

After having tea at BB’s with Rose Thorn, who kindly came all the way from town to fetch me to take me back to town to collect Basil (I can definitely out-party RT by the way) I set off to the de Waterkant to do the first of my shoots (which is actually why I was borrowing the car – to do shoots and earn extra money for tequila). I met the most fabulous gay couple (as you do in the de Waterkant) who own a beautiful purple house and took an amble through this gay little suburb. It was like being in Greece, or Paris or Italy, but in a fabulously camp way. White shutters and hanging flower baskets mingled with shops selling wonderfully outrageous garments fit for a queen (see what I did there?). The smell of coffee drifted lazily through the air and people trotted by on their way to brunch dates or to the market. There was a wonderful ambience and I have made a vow to go back for a “day in the de Waterkant”. I shall attempt to pull out the “magazine I work for” trump card and get some free meals and if I am lucky, a night for free too. Damn I love my job ... and the de Waterkant.

After that it was off to Higgovale for my next shoot, which wasn’t really scheduled, but thought I would take a chance. Well, who would’ve thought ... a modern day hippie commune in the city. The first sign should’ve been in the directions – “turn left into the road that has a tree in the middle of it”. But it doesn’t really feel like the city as it is all wild and foresty up there. I was actually tempted to stay and probably could’ve as no one seemed to care about me wandering around this complex with it’s wild gardens (read, unkempt) and prayer flags (read, Buddhist types). Chimes with peace symbols tinkled in the trees (read, hippies) and there were tables made out of beer crates with board and poofs on tree stumps as chairs (read, definitely hippies). Needless to say I found the address of the house, but couldn’t find the key. He said I would find it under the pot plant. Upon reflection I am realising that I shouldn’t have been looking under the potted plants. Silly me...

After all that work, it was time for a bit of socialising. Popped into the Now Married Flatmate’s house for a beer to celebrate her son’s 4th birthday. Seemingly once you turn four you lose your mini rock n’ roll status as I didn’t recognise Big Tom sans afro. After a quick catch up and some pirate cake I went home for a nap with the remaining six-pack of Hunters Dry under my arm. Damn, my friends are good to me, they look after all my best interests ( I chose them well). The evening was spent at The Genie’s where we shared the spoils of my birthday boy visit. Paying it forward I think it’s called. Times are tight and one must share any good fortune. I got home at 10pm only to head out again an hour later to The Machine and Slappy’s where their braai was still in full swing. Yes, it was late, but have car, will travel to Constantia. The Monster was still there with The Young One and a good time (and chocolate tequila) was had. Basil and I got home in the wee hours. It was the first time I hadn’t been to bed before 11pm on a Saturday for weeks – I almost felt like my old self.

Sunday involved morning walkies in the park (Tino ran like the wind and rolled on the grass in leash-free bliss) some assignment work (free meals from trump cards come at a different sort of price) and cleaning house (maid is high on priority list right now, cleaning floors on hands and knees is not for an ex-colonial gal like me). Then Basil and I zooted off on a mini roadtrip to Simon’s Town for another shoot. I had grand plans to do the shoot and then treat myself to an ice cream and a walk on the beach in the sunshine. Those plans got swept out to sea with the gale force wind. But what amazed me was the sheer resilience of people determined to enjoy a hot summer’s day. There’s a howling gale where sand is being swept over the road and the beaches were full. I guess why spend a fortune in a salon when all you need is sun block and sand for a bit of light exfoliation.

Basil got returned to his rightful owner in one piece and minus a quarter of a tank of fuel that evening. I feel very honoured to have had the pleasure of his company. Here’s to you my green gangstamobile friend, you gave me back my freedom for a weekend. May you have many more years on the road and may your tank never run dry.

(Cue wicked foxy laugh)

I have a fever

"Cabin fever: A type of hysteria brought on by spending too much time indoors." - Urban Dictionary 


Cabin fever has struck. Being car-less and cash-less has left me with little option but to stay at home and behave. And my God, I swear it could kill you. OK, I agree that some time spent at home is a good thing, as with spending time with yourself. Getting stuff done. Being alone, but not lonely and all that. Time out from the world is good for you, blah blah ....Yes, but only for a while. A very short while! I know everything is for a reason, but there is only so much wiring of plugs and reading I can do. When you start asking your dogs if they would like a cup of tea with their biscuit then you know it is time to get out and about. What's even scarier is that I have even started washing the dishes on a regular basis. Eeeeek! Somebody come take me out to the pub, pleaaaaaaaaaaaase!!!

The good side of all this is that I have found my inner interior designer and have been doing all sorts of creative things in my new home. Like putting lights into a bowl creating a pretty bowl full of light. Sticking with the lights theme I have also put lights on the Frangipani tree which took great skill and patience. Skill to climb up on chairs to get to the end of branches and patience to find the faulty bulb which caused a section to be unlit. Naturally it was the last bulb I checked out of about 30. And then ... to top it all, I put up the chilli lights in the kitchen. Cool huh! So now I have enough light effects to hold an epic housewarming party, which must happen soon. I have managed to put everything away in the cupboards and can finally see my dining room table. Great, now I can have epic dinner parties (with 3 chairs). I have been able to take a nap every day, along with reading a chapter of my latest Margie Orford book. I am feeling more well read and rested and my skin looks fabulous. My dogs have been taken on walks every day which has been a wonderful way to get some exercise and discover our new hood. Thanks to being so busy titivating and playing house with not much time found for eating and drinking (nor the money to buy booze and fast food treats) I have lost 4kgs. Over the festive season??! Whooooot!!! So all in all, not bad. Quite blissful I suppose. Sounds idyllic to friends with children! And I shouldn't complain as I love my new home, but dammit, I need to get out!!

But, I shouldn't really be whining so much. Lucky for me, I did manage to get two fab outings over the past few days. I popped out on Sunday to Mom Friend's house where I loafed about drinking Savanna and scoffing home-made pizza. Her hubbie is quite the chef and making a name for himself too. He even blogs for TASTE magazine! Smart stuffs huh? You bet ... read The Weekend Wizard's blogs and get some yummy recipes here. I was also treated to some "tea" (aka splash pool water) in the most delightful little Snow White teacup and saucer by their gorgeous cherub of a daughter. Actually she wasn't being so gorgeous to her parents that day and there was much mention of "thank goodness creche starts tomorrow" and "she is so out of her routine thanks to the holidays". This of course just further proves that having children should not be taken lightly and those who continue to do so after watching the demise of their parent friends are just plain crazy. But singleton here had a wonderful time and got very spoilt as I always do when I go there. Then with a full tummy and pizza takeaways (and teabags, yes, it's THAT bad) I ambled home to have a nap. Which you can't do if you have children...

Last night I went to a braai at Monster's house. A braai on a school night! Wahoo! I love my friends. I managed to get a lift with Rockstar Friend and scraped up the last of my pennies to buy a piece of steak (no braai is complete without a piece of steak). Armed with potatoes (no braai is complete without a potato salad), a piece of cow and a coca cola (sad, I know) I arrived in the gale-force wind at his house in Salt River to find him watering his tomato plants and sweeping the braai area. I was shown the new patch of lawn and I witnessed him SOAK the braai grids. My dear Monster has seemingly gone from rock god to a male version of Martha Stewart (he says it himself). Whilst the guitars and other band apparel (including framed groupie underwear) is still there, I fear it is being overshadowed by trays of herb seedlings, compost and a weed-eater. Any minute now he will start a new blog called A Guide to Homemaking and Gardening for the Modern Man. I can't wait!

Seemingly he is not the only one in this bunch of once-debaucherous group of friends (I have heard tales of kettles up arses and seen some interesting photos) who has started growing up. One of the most illustrious members of this group has recently become a dad (to twins at that) and he was all excited about his six-pack of beer shandy that only had 0.9% alcohol. Aah, how times have changed - bet he never thought he would be drinking low-alcohol beer shandy whilst chugging down his tenth pint of Napier beer a few years ago! Madcap Menno and Barmy Bernie were there having returned from a fabulous roadtrip in Mozambique where one has to take photos of your food at night so you can see what you are eating because there is no electricity. Filmaker Friend, who is now embarking on creating a TV series, was there with his chick, The Madonna with the Big Boobies. Rose Thorn told me all about her midlife crisis (at 33) and at some point suggested we become lesbians. And she was sober. Yikes. For the record, no thanks. Gay Street or no Gay Street. TDB and The Swift also arrived and I was relieved to hear that The Swift has also blown a car engine and also never listens to anyone's advice when it comes to cars. And last, but not least, I got to spend some time with Monster's new girlfriend, The Young One. Lovely girl - very willing and helpful, eager to please and good at taking instructions (which of course is why men like them young). She's quite pretty too. She also apparently makes an awesome blue cheese and onion braaibroodtjie. I wouldn't know as they were so popular that I never got one. Probably because I was too busy getting stuck into the wine (I soon ditched the soft drinks in favour of alcohol). After a fabulous evening catching up with everyone, drinking copious amounts wine and scoffing dead animals I got a lift home with TDB and The Swift and fell into my bed feeling half smashed and deliriously happy.

Tonight is a home night and I have an assignment to finish. Must go and check with IT how my loan laptop is coming along. I made "use of modern device history" the other day when I completed an assignment on my Blackberry and emailed it to myself. Savvy yes, but not inclined to do it again! Tomorrow night is also a home night. So is Friday. And Saturday. And Sunday.

O.M.G...

The year that ended in a bunch of tissues, a sink full of crayfish, a bearing knock and half a bottle of rum

So we are six days into the new year and apparently our last year on earth as we know it. How exciting! What's even more exciting is that I have some simple resolutions (which I seldom keep) and one of them is to blog at least once a week. Nowhere near as dedicated as Monster, but a damn-side better than blogging four times a year... so watch this space. Through this I may even manage to wangle some sponsorship of some kind. A year long supply of tequila would be a good start ... after the end of last year I need it!

Moving it and shaking it

I moved house in December. The planets clearly moved alignment at the same time as everything that could go wrong did. My car broke down on the day of the move, I chipped off my front tooth, my cat turned into something out of Pet Cemetary and my previous landlady turned into a bitch and stole all my deposit. It wasn't fun and I had a mini nervous breakdown. But I now live in a fantastic little cottage with a blue door and blue window frames. It's so cute dammit! Everyone has a good snigger when they hear it is in Gay Street. But back when the street was named, "gay" orignally meant "gleeful, jovial, glad, joyous, happy, cheerful, light-hearted, vivacious, frolicsome". So there. Just like my personality (most of the time). Besides, everyone who lives there is "straight".... life is ironic like that.

What I learnt:
Don't move house at all costs - squat if you have to. If you do decide to move house, start packing the day you get or give notice to move out. Don't make friends with your landlord/lady - they are not your friend, you are merely a source of income. Deposits are good for funding renovations. Don't mix pets and carpets - it's a recipe for disaster. Ask for help if you need it. Help often comes from those you least expect.

Breakdowns and meltdowns

Most people know me as the happy-go-lucky gal without a care in the world. Turns out my Happiness Fairy decided to go on holiday in December (probably to the North Pole to seek a job as the Christmas Fairy) and the Ogre of Misery moved in instead. The last few weeks of 2011 were one disaster after the next and I think friends started dreading asking how things were going. On the day of the move the moving crew arrived almost 2 hours early, resulting in my menagerie being chucked into the bathroom (as opposed to being whisked off to the safety and calm of the parlour), my fridge being moved with the food in it and I was still chucking clothes into black bags at 1am in the morning. My car started giving trouble on the day of the move, resulting in a tearful visit to the mechanic which resulted in all attention being paid immediately to my car. My beloved Tino almost got ran over 2 days after the move, resulting in me chasing a terrified dog down the road and chipping my front tooth. No pain, but not so pretty. I will never make jokes about white trash again. Then, on very same day, my computer at work crashed. All my precious photos and memories were about to go down the hard drive drain. This was the final straw and I fell apart, much to the concern of fellow workmates. Dosed up on Rescue Remedy I was sent home and stayed there for 2 days. In my bed...

What I learnt
It does eventually get better. I am stronger than I thought. Breakdowns happen to happy people too. Crying and shaking uncontrollably is your body's way of saying "enough". You cannot overdose on Rescue Remedy. Pets can have Rescue Remedy too. It's OK to cry. Backup your work. Don't store everything on your desktop. Teeth can be fixed, at a price. One should start saving from childhood for dental work (if you don't use it, you can retire on it).

All I want for Christmas ....

... is a new car. Having been assured that my car was fine and good to go (which I guess it was at the time) I decided to drive it to Hermanus to spend Christmas with my pals there. Not only was I going to catch up with old friends who had been somewhat neglected over the year, I was looking forward to having a break and enjoying delightful Christmas fare. Half way there the oil buzzer came on. Rush into a garage to find that there was indeed oil in my car. Thinking that the oil buzzer was simply playing up again I pushed on with a screaming oil buzzer making me feel like I was stuck in a bell tower. I made it to my friends' house, but only just. I was half demented and my engine sounded even more so. Determined to have a good time in spite of this, I pushed the car out of my mind as much as possible and got immersed in the festivities. I ate enough to keep me going for months. The seafood extravaganza on Christmas Day was fit for kings (there were mountains of prawns and calamari, a freshly caught cob and we had an entire crayfish to ourselves!) It was all quite fabulous and the weather played along too. But by Boxing Day I decided it was time to sort out the car. Luckily for me The Machine knew a mechanic in town and the man was kind enough to come check out the car. Verdict: bearing knock in the engine caused by collapsed oil pump. Estimated cost: Anything between R3 000 to R8 000 depending on damage. So the car wasn's shreiking at me for nothing. The oil was there, but not going through to where it should. If only we had've changed the oil pump... R300 is a lot less than what I am about to fork out. Sigh ...

But that aside a far bigger problem was looming. My pets were at home with no-one to feed them as I had the only key. Using social networking I tried to find a lift and people tried to help. Word went out, phone calls were made, some offered to jump the walls to get to my critters and The Genie even offered to come from Cape Town to get me. Thankfully my new landlady was able to go in and halt starvation and some good friends came from Betty's Bay to save me. I got home two days later than anticipated to some very happy animals who don't care if I have a car or not, they just want to be fed and to see me. And being car-less for a while, that they definitely will.

What I learnt
If your car is shouting at you, listen. Make sure someone has spare keys to your house. Disaster can happen at any given moment. Afrikaans people definitely know about food. Seafood on Christmas Day under an African sun is the best way to spend the day. Getting the meat out of a crayfish leg takes skill. True friends will be with you during the bad as well as the good and those are the friends to nurture and keep. Cars have a sell-by date. So do some friends.

And so there you have it. Thank goodness that year is over. It's a new year and I shall press on with renewed faith and optimism. As we tend to do. I have to say it started pretty well... I woke up in the posh suburb of Constantia on New Year's Day with a mild hangover thanks to a fun rum-filled evening with The Machine and Slappy (good name there Monster) and have been getting lifts to work in the finest vehicles known to man. The latest Audi A1 ranks as my favourite so far (the new Mini is ugly with retro overkill as far as I am concerned). I have a new office and a new job. I have a new home.

Now all I need is a new tooth, a new car, a new figure, a new boyfriend and a new attitude. Will let you know how that goes...

Here's to 2012 ... may it be our finest yet!