We all lead busy lives right, and sometimes fitting it all in becomes rather hectic, and my schedule on most days consists of kids, husband, work, gym, shopping.   At least the cooking and cleaning (and yes, I have even taught my beloved Sekai how to bake bread) is generally outsourced, although I do try and at least pack lunchboxes myself.   So on Monday nights we usually stay home, Tuesday nights are spent Zumba-ing away at gym, Wednesdays home night, Thursdays are date night, this usually consists of our ballroom dancing lesson at Arthur Murray followed by dinner, or movies, or a show or whatever, Fridays are pig out pizza and movie nights, I also have a boxing lesson with my trainer at the gym, Saturday mornings are generally spent at gym, or I run a ten kilometre race, or sometimes play golf with Gerhard.   This is followed by visits with friends, shopping and the like and Sundays are spent in any manner that we like, mostly braaing quietly at home, chilling with a margar

SO, as I might have mentioned, I am rugby neutral, I know a scrum from a penalty kick, and I know that the fat guys generally hang around in scrums, wearing the low numbers, think one to about seven, if memory serves.   I also know that the better looking guys tend to be the ones with numbers from say 10 and up.   So formalities out of the way, I live with a true blue bulls supporter, born and bred, and I must be honest, the average blue bull and their supporters are not really my cup of tea. There is this one guy, I have no idea what his name is, but my oh my, the first time I saw him I thought that he took a sharpi pen to himself.   His arm is covered in tattoos from shoulder to wrist.   And he has a mullet like hairstyle, and he is neither here nor there in terms of the number he wears, I recon a 9 or a ten, so not a fatty, but not one of the fast athletic types either.   SO, I finally decided that I will pick a provincial team to support before I turn forty, that leaves m

So much has happened over the last couple of months, where to start…   It was my gran’s birthday, so I flew to Richards Bay to visit her on the day, and shock and horror, there were people with kids on the flight there, I mean come on, who flies with kids right.   So I of course gave the mother of a screaming toddler an absolute horror look, and willed this kid to stop screaming and ruining my moment of peace.   Safe to say, the kid never stopped screaming, and in an ironic twist of fate, Luka turned into that screaming toddler a mere three days later on the flight to Mauritius.   Oh the horror.   So yes, we went to Mauritius exactly seven years after honeymooning there and my oh my, how a couple of kids changes a vacation experience.   Seven years ago, afternoon naps where at the order of the day, this time round, not so much.   Previous time, watched the evening show, and partied afterwards, this time round, in bed by ten.   Something that did not change is th