Among the things in life I really find unfair (like animal abuse, war, corruption, the existence of certain U.S. Immigration lawyers, inflation, tax, throttled and capped broadband use… actually, let’s save some time and just say, the mere EXISTENCE of Hellkom) are women who dye their hair red and end up looking way better with red hair than some of us who are natural redheads. And those same women who then just happen to also be beautiful, AND clever, AND talented, AND funny… and so genuinely nice, you can’t even hate them for committing all the aforementioned sins.

And if you don’t think that such women exist, well… I know of ONE such specimen (er… speciwomen?). Like me, she is South African – but sadly, that’s where I should stop trying to find parallels between us. But I’m going to try anyway: the red hair, even though hers is just temporary. (But from the gray white strands appearing on my own head, so is mine, apparently.) And we’re both on a certain side of a certain decade… and… yes, well… sadly, that’s it.

Oh, and for further examination and intensive study, she can be found here.

I know those things about her, not only because I’ve been stalking her on her blog since… well, so far back, I don’t even remember. But because – and hold onto your hats for this one – I have MET her! In PERSON!

In other words, believe it or not, neither of us was grasping a mouse or tethered to a keyboard, our complexions illuminated by the soft glow of the computer screen. We were actually speaking to each other. FACE to FACE. In BROAD DAYLIGHT!

Apparently this archaic practice of interacting with other people without the assistance of some sort of computer or telephone was all the rage a long, long time ago. I must say, even though it was strange to communicate without typing and looking at a computer screen, I found the experience oddly PLEASANT. Weird, huh?

She braved Stellenbosch rush-hour traffic (consisting of fleets of BMWs, SUVs, and the odd mule, ostrich, and elephant) and my coffee-making skills (ha ha! I mentioned “skills” and myself in one sentence!), and she came all the way from the neighbouring town just because I was absolutely desperate and begged to meet her she wanted to meet me. Me!?!

She was awarded for her efforts with coffee so strong that it lurched out of her cup and curdled her blood, and a few lopsided cupcakes on the side. (I know nobody will believe me, since my lack of culinary knowledge is legendary, but those lopsided cupcakes were BOUGHT. And when they were bought, they were NOT lopsided. They only became a tad lopsided during the journey home.)

Oh, and she was also cursed rewarded for her efforts with me chatting her ear off. (So just call her Van Gogh. But depending on which side of her head she holds the phone to, she might not hear you. Har har.)

Seriously though, the girl is delightful. If you have never read her blog, you should know that you have been missing out. She exudes the same kind of restful vibe in person as she does through her writing and astonishing photography on her blog. At the same time, she is also funny and way too clever for her own good.

And now I shall exercise (ha ha! I used “exercise” and myself in one sentence!) great restraint and stop gushing.

P.S. She has been sworn to life-long secrecy (with an afterlife-long clause thrown in for good measure, in case she decides to have herself frozen and thawed in a million years’ time, or in case she has herself cloned, or in case she has an evil identical twin), and therefore no one will EVER know that I’m really just a crazy, erratic dirty old man who despises parentheses (really!) and who merely pretends on the web to be this crazy, yet gorgeous Nicole Kidman look-alike girl with legs for miles and an addiction to parentheses…