Lunch Date, Wrong Spot !Caution: This story contains bad language. Parental Guidance Advised

I love peri peri prawns; I love the company of women; I love a cold glass of bubbly; I love the sunshine and when the promise of all of those things are on the cards, I dress up and show up.

Oh yes, and if this magical combo of things happens to come together on a work day, well then, I even swop my EDT for EDP.

So, I spritzed the good stuff on my pulse points. It felt so indulgent on a random Tuesday. I had been under enormous pressure at work. My special lunch date had been too.  She had also been recovering from a critical illness and I planned to tell her that I loved the fact that she still used words like “bitch” instead of offering me a passage from the bible during our chats about her health.

The word “bitch” was going to come up lots and lots during our lunch meeting. This I knew for sure. We had been dealing with a mutual service provider who I really thought should have considered a company name change. RIP: Rude, Incompetent, Pricey – Where Customers Come Last is what I had in mind. There would be total value alignment with her staff. I could not wait to share my genius over lunch.

But we had a teeny problem. My lunch date was sitting in a restaurant in one part of the city. Stupid tart!  Poor thing! She had already ordered something to drink. I was sitting in a restaurant by the same name in another part of the city, 30km away from her. I had also ordered a drink.

I had sunshine. I had prawns. I had a glass of bubbly. I was not moving.  So, I Skyped my date.

We had a blast talking about RIP!  I had to agree, I DID have a certain “way with words”.

© A Heart Full of Stories, 2015. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Lee-Ann Mayimele and with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Enlightenment is Hard Work!

They say that when what you FEEL, what you SAY and what you DO are aligned, that you are on your way to enlightenment.

I was a long way from enlightenment this weekend.  What I was feeling, what came out of my mouth and what I had to do, were all just one big yawn!

It was one of thoseeeee ones.  My son was teething and the rest of the family was feeling the pain. At 2 hour intervals throughout the night, he kept waking his sister. Each time I got him to close his eyes, my daughter would call my name and wake him up again.  My husband and I danced in the dark all night, from spot to spot, as and when the screams dictated.

And this movie continued all night long. 

Naturally, all of us woke up grumpy.  I knew that some coffee for me, a bottle for the baby and a glass of milk for the toddler would help. I walked to the fridge.  We had no milk. We ALL needed milk.

It was 6am on a Sunday after a party with lots of champagne.

I needed to wake my husband.  For milk.

The milk arrived and was served. Just as I sat down for my coffee, I saw it.  Projectile vomit from my teething son.  Directly on to his sister’s hair.  (Now, the hair story is one for another day but let’s just say that there are curls for days and lots of spaces for the pieces of vomit to hide)

I needed to give her a bath and a hair wash.  Naturally, she didn’t want her brother to join her.  Naturally, her brother wanted to join her.  Naturally, I lectured her about “sharing and caring”.  Naturally, there were more tears.

By 8am the sun came streaming into the living area, Barney was working his magic, the coffee starting doing its job and my husband returned from his run full of energy.  The kids ran to him and said “Papaaaaaa!”  I fell in love again.  Big time!

Breakfast at a beautiful organic market in the countryside was just what the doctor ordered.  Enlightenment was around the corner. 

Once out in the countryside, the kids were beautiful. They walked hand in hand, wore their hats and said their prayer before sharing a croissant. My daughter said “Mama, he’s cute hey?” as he sang a song.  Theseeeee were the kids I ordered from the catalogue, I thought.  These precious little gifts from God.

I didn’t want to return them afterall.  I decided I’d keep them.

My husband ordered some bubbly. We needed it.  We toasted to the sun, a crap night, a better day.

That’s when we saw the cutest couple.  Hand in hand with matching sunglasses.   They were looking for somewhere to sit down.  The guy agreed to talk to the manager while his girlfriend went to the loo.  The only table available was in our section.  The guy said “God no! We hate kids” and walked off, determined to find something farrrrrrrrrrrr away from the playground.

The girl returned from the loo and walked straight into my daughter pretending to be a horse, with her brother on her back.  She said “Oh my God! These kids are the cutest. I can’t wait to have some! I adoreeeeeee kids”.   She picked my son up, put him on her hip and held my daughter’s hand.  She was a natural. She was glowing.

The puppet show was about to start and the kids ran off.  We pretended to be looking at them but our ears were on high alert.  The guy returned and said “Oh, there you are! I told the manager how much we hate kids”. 

My husband and I were frozen.

My heart hoped that she would SAY what she was FEELING and then DO what those feelings desired.

But, like me.  Enlightenment evaded her.  She said “Oh great, honey.  Thanks for that” and gave him a big kiss.

Allow me to wish you well on your journey to enlightenment, friends.  May what you think and feel always find the right words and may you DO that which will take you towards the light.

Aluta Continua, as they say. The road is long (for me).

© A Heart Full of Stories, 2015. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Lee-Ann Mayimele and with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

The Vision

I was on my way to Dubai for an important meeting.  I had prepared well and looked forward to the finalising a strategic deal.

I planned to drink lots of champagne on the flight and make use of the pyjamas. Afterall, flying first class was not something I did every day.

My eyes started getting red soon after boarding.  By the time dinner was served they were on the colour of tomato soup.  The woman sitting next to me said “What are your eyes telling you? What do you not want to see?”.  I laughed, had my nightcap, ran over my notes for the meeting and went to sleep. Lying flat!

I had a plan in my head.  I was sticking to the vision.  (No pun intended).

I arrived safely at my hotel and when I finally got to look in a mirror, I panicked. Just a little bit. My eyes were blood red.  I went to see a doctor immediately.  I needed to sort my eyes out pronto.

When I returned to the hotel, I could not shake the feeling.  I felt awkward and scared.

But, I had a plan. A vision.  I planned to stick to it. 

The first day’s meetings went well but I had to excuse myself from an important dinner that night.  I had to.  My eyes needed rest.

I went to dinner alone.  I felt like someone was watching me.  All the time.

My vision did not include this stupid twist.

My food did not arrive despite two reminders. They apologised and told me that that had never happened in the history of the hotel. They agreed to send the food to my room.

That creepy feeling increased tenfold.  

I went to my room.  The doorbell rang and my heart jumped!  It was only the food arriving but for some reason I was freaked out. I tried to eat but could not relax.

So, I went downstairs to the hotel lobby.  I thought that perhaps a spot of people-watching would distract me. Help me return to normal.  Help me to stop acting crazy!

I was walking across the room when I heard someone making a sound. A catcall kind of sound.  I turned in the direction of the sound and it was a man. An Arab man in a long white cloak and a veil on his head.  He winked at me. 

I knew something was wrong.  I felt INSTANTLY nauseas.  My beautiful vision was gone.  Instead, I was filled with fear, disgust and paranoia. 

I decided to sit down.  For God’s sake! This was a famous hotel with cameras everywhere, plenty of tourists and my business associates were staying in the same damn hotel. What could go wrong?

So, I straightened my shoulders, gave myself a mental smack and walked across the room to another part of the hotel. I looked around for the man.  I did not see him.

I took two steps forward when I heard the man make the sound again.  By now I was officially freaked out!  He was hiding behind a plant and he stuck his tongue out and licked his lips.

Through my sore eyes I saw fear. Big time!

I planned to go straight to reception and alert them to my fears but my phone rang and I took the call.  When I looked around again, I saw the man talking to the people at reception, laughing and looking like they all knew one another.

I could not go to reception. I definitely did NOT want the bad pervert to know that I was scared of him. That was not an option.

So, I went to my room. Bolted the door. Texted my colleague in the room down the hall to find out how the dinner had gone. I didn’t care about the dinner, actually. I just wanted to know that he was there if I needed him.

My eyes insisted on closing. I could not sleep but my eyes needed to be closed.

About 3 hours later, the room phone rang.  I answered and there was no one there.

I called reception. I asked them if they had called.  They said no.  I check with my colleague. He had not called either.

Two minutes later, there was a knock at the door.

I did not answer.  My eyes refused to open. Literally.  

I did not know if it was the bad man, my colleague, reception, security or some other extra terrestrial!  I guess I will never know.

On the long flight back home, I let my emotions flow.  I just burst out crying!  Those tears acknowledged that I was pissed off that my body had failed me at such a crucial time, that I had let some stupid man play games with my mind when I was not feeling well and that as a woman, I was such a soft target.  Most of the tears were about the vision.  The vision that had gone wrong. Literally.

When I arrived in Johannesburg my eyes were cleared up.

And, instead of keeping an open mind, guess what I did?  Yes, another vision.  The vision I had was of eating hot dinner with my husband in the safety of my home, telling him my story with my eyes sparkly and white.


© A Heart Full of Stories, 2015. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Lee-Ann Mayimele and with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

I Believe in Champagne

I believe in Champagne

I believe that lasagne has super powers

I believe in pink

I believe in angels

I believe that good hair makes you feel like a princess

I believe in photo albums, walks on the beach and being silly

I believe that travel is the best university

I believe that hard work, modesty, good manners and a black pencil skirt will never go out of fashion

I believe in saying thank you

I believe that life is simple and that intimacy heals

I believe in mascara, drinking water, immersing myself in my lover’s warmth

I believe in taking risks, asking for directions, accepting gifts

I believe in change

I believe in avocado

I believe that God is in my children

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