Because I have just read this.

Mr. Hanington, I wish I knew you in person.

But I am very, very lucky to know your amazing daughter. For a little while, I was fortunate enough to share an experience (living in a foreign country) with her. I just wish that we got to hang out more when we had the chance...

Now we are back in our original, opposite corners of the world, each battling our own demons and trying our best to move on and gain momentum until, eventually (hopefully) we'll take off and fly.

She is doing so much better than I am!

And now I know exactly why: She has the unfair advantage of having your genes!

What would YOU do in the following situation?

Say a major international magazine (both online and print) offered you a blogging gig - at no pay - do you take it?

They are promising "Major exposure."

Please tell me, oh phantom readers!

After 12 hours (yes, I am counting!) of NO COMMENTS, updated to say: Seeing that the phantom readers aren't coming through for me, please tell me, oh real readers!! Please, please I need to give them an answer soon and I really don't know what to do!

Among 'real life' family and friends, the tally thus far is: 10 CONDITIONAL Ayes. Three No Pay No Work, definite Nays!

... And totally mystified as to how it could have happened to ME, of all people. But very, very grateful that it did.

I honestly can't believe this!!!!!

Thank you to everyone who voted for me. Where'd you all COME from?!? (And no, I don't mean those of you who voted under duress. Oh, right. That means everyone who voted for me, then.)

Seriously though, I've read all the other entries, therefore I know for a fact that this was DEFINITELY not a case of the best writer winning. You guys all wrote rings around me. I want to live in all your versions of Utopia too!

Congratulations to all of them - and especially Yebo and iMod, the runners-up.

And of course, a big thanks to Accelerate Cape Town and the great Web AddiCT(s) who allowed me to join the party (even though I was way more than fashionably late), without even deducting points for my procrastination! You guys have seriously made my year! Congrats on pulling off a successful contest and on your site's stylin' new design!

I know there are other people to thank (I believe that I've actually WON AWESOME STUFF!), but I'm so dizzy with delight that I'd better lie down right now before I faint on the spot!

Wow! Well, this will certainly go down as one of the highlights of my week!

Thank you, Jay. My readers (the three real ones and the legions of imaginary ones) swear that they won't tell you that you've made an awful mistake.

Exactly two years ago today, after I had heaved and pushed and struggled and spat out several words of little eloquence, she, assisted by her and her, delivered my baby.

It was love at first byte.

Like all new mothers, I was immediately enamoured by my child. I believed she* was the most beautiful in the world, unmatched by her peers. A lot of people agreed with me, and of course, I believed every one of them.

Quite a surprising amount of people took an interest in my newborn's life, but unfortunately that initial enthusiasm and popularity were short-lived.

For the first few months of her life, my babe had a healthy orange glow to her skin.

A few months later – on my birthday, in fact - I awoke to find that she had turned blue overnight! Since she had already been quite lethargic and unusually quiet at that point, no one was particularly alarmed. In fact, I was rather deelighted by her new look and thought it was an exciting change!

Her new hue was not due to what many had mistakenly thought to be a rare virus, and she survived, which is a good thing, since her skin has remained blue ever since. (But just in case - and some people might find this peculiar and slightly macabre - I have already composed a few epitaphs on her behalf.)

And speaking of survival. We've been through a lot together, the two of us.

She has tolerated my trips down memory lane, my rare travels away from her, and the general neglect she suffered when I ignored her, and when I was too lazy or too busy with other things to spend time with her.

Like a champ, she has endured my cooking attempts. She has been a faithful, uncritical witness every time I attempted a new hobby.

Together, we’ve survived an almost devastating blow, and every day, we are getting through the somewhat arduous, definitely strange process of repatriating to a homeland that she has never known before now, except through the stories she has heard from me.

But there have been good times too. A year ago, on her first birthday, we received well wishes from one of our heroes, none other than Pulitzer Prize winning columnist Connie Schultz!

And when she was a few months old, she miraculously won a contest!

I know I didn’t have her in my life for 29 years, but now I don’t know what I would do (and often would have done, over these past two years) without her. You have to believe me when I say that she has changed my life for the better.

Whenever my life in the United States, so far away from home, seemed bleak, she gave me a reason to get up, to write my nonsense and in so doing, to connect with others. It has led to friendships in unexpected places, and even to a few exciting ‘real life’ encounters.

She has been a conversation starter, a secret, a passion, a load off, a joy, an amusement (well, to myself at least, even if not to others!), a haven, and a friend. But most importantly, she has been the one thing that has remained a faithful constant in my life at a point when so many other people and things and dreams turned out to be false and fickle.

Today she is officially entering her terrible two’s. Luckily, I’ve lived with my two-year old nephew, so I believe that I know a bit of what’s in store for me.

Besides, even before turning this infamous age, she has already displayed some shocking behaviour (like running up shocking phone and internet bills – granted, that happened with my help).

Dare we ask what could happen next**?

Happy birthday, blog. I love having you and I’ll be forever grateful to Emily for having that contest which brought you into my life, and for everyone who, for reasons utterly beyond my grasp, keeps on reading and egging us on with their comments.

* I'm sure there's a rule somewhere in the infinite cyber blogosphere stating that one's blog should be the same sex as you are. Which would therefore make Red a girl. (WHADOYOUMEAN Am I sure?!?)

* Swearing? Tantrums? Even MORE whining?!? Well, she can start cursing like a right sailor, for all I care, as long as she starts absorbing a LOT less spam.

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…

In this case, it's a bit of a belated Thanksgiving (as usual!).

Confused?

About a week ago (shame on me for waiting so long to acknowledge it!), I opened the front door and was greeted by a parcel from this lovely place. I almost didn't even look at the name on it, just naturally assuming that it was something that the boy had ordered for himself, but luckily my curiousity got the better of me and so imagine my joy when I saw MY name on the label!

This lovely boy had sent me the most longed for item from my wish list!

Thank you, Mike! That sweet and completely unexpected gesture has really made my month!

Apart from that lovely gift, I've also been receiving an amazing amount of support and words of encouragement through phone calls and e-mails from some of you to help me navigate these rough waters I'm going through at the moment. (For those of you who have no idea what I'm talking about, please be patient, I promise that you will find out soon enough. Don't worry though, although recent events in my life have been rather dramatic, it's nothing as serious as a death or an illness.)

Since today is Thanksgiving here in the U.S., I thought that it would be an appropriate time to say: "Thanks!" And: "You don't know how touched I am and how much your kindness means to me."

Blogging may be rather sparse for the next month, to which I hear you ask: "Oh, so what's new?"

Seriously though, I promise that for a change, I have a far better excuse for my silence than merely being The World's Laziest Blogger.

Thank you very much for sticking with me, and for your patience and unbelievable kindness.

P.S. Another thing to be grateful for: A dear friend took me to see "RENT" last night and although some of the songs from the broadway musical have been cut from the film (a time issue, methinks), the translation from stage to screen was, in my humble opinion, a very huge success. And yes, I did indeed manage to restrain myself from singing along, but I can tell you, it was REALLY difficult! So today I'm basking in the glow of my crush on Jesse L. Martin (who plays Tom Collins and whose smile lights up the screen) and the fact that it snowed when we left the movie theatre!

Here's "To days of inspiration, playing hookey, making something out of nothing, the need to express - to communicate, to going against the grain, going insane, going mad!"

The day before yesterday, during her brief but mighty fine guest appearance here at Redsaid's, the gorgeous Miss Dee was too modest to mention the fact that she was solely responsible for this here brand new Lady Liberty design! Well, she did, in a Seussical kind of way, allude to it, but she wasn't nearly as boastful as I would've liked her to be! (Had I been capable of creating such wondrously beautiful things on computers (or even just with my own two hands), I would've shouted it from the rooftops!)

And what's more... she gave it to me as a birthday present!!!!

She was quite stealth about it too. Asked me casually what design ideas I'd have in mind for a new skin for my blog, and proceeded to whip this up in her spare time. And I must tell you, this looks better than I ever could've imagined!

Am I a spoiled brat or what? (Update: Dee must be a mind reader. She must have sensed that I'm about to credit her for these gorgeous new digs, because I've just been e-mailed by her to thank my regular web-goddess Emily, without whose help this new skin apparently wouldn't have been up here! So Em, thanks for once AGAIN being part of my lovely surprise! I'm really touched at how many hours you guys have spent (wasted!) not only reading my drivel, but also just giving me sooo much in terms of tech support (a LOT. I'm a complete idiot when it comes to all things computer related) and yet another gorgeous design!

And whilst we're still on the subject of being spoiled... thank you all so very, very much for all the sweet birthday wishes!

Despite the screwy start to my day, what with the early morning combat with the Ikea furniture (I have since decided that putting Ikea furniture together should be classified as an official Olympic sport and that it should be called Swedish Wrestling) during which I invented new curse words in several languages and brushed up on a few golden oldies, the rest of the birthday was fantastic.

We were at the airport at seven in the morn' (WITHOUT COFFEE) and then I proceeded to play "spot the South Africans, but especially my sister."

I was SO excited, I could hardly contain myself. In fact, the boy had to use all of his strength to try and prevent me from jumping on every person who walked from the customs hall into the international arrivals lounge. You know, I had to... just in case the person turned out to be my sister. (So to the perplexed-looking guy into whose arms I flew at Dulles Airport two mornings ago: I'm sorry. It's just that I hadn't seen my sis in five years and she could've undergone many changes during that time, you know? I couldn't risk NOT giving you an enthusiastic greeting, just in case you DID turn out to be her. See? Very simple.)

After what felt like eons, my sis finally DID walk into the lounge. And in my frenzied search for her...
I
totally
overlooked
her.

It was the boy who spotted her first. He pointed to a blond* bomb-shell and said: "THERE she is!"

I didn't even double-check to make sure. I just ran into her arms and bawled and laughed and jumped and screamed and bawled some more. (She's married to an Italian, which of course gives me permission to get really embarrassingly emotional in public!)

It's now been almost two full days since her arrival and I still can't quite believe that she is actually here!

I'm convinced that she's given me some of her jet lag, because I'm so tired that I can't see straight...

More later when I'm more coherent. (Ha ha, as if I'm EVER coherent!)

* Her highlights are new to me. Looks fabulous on her though!

Today is this blog's first birthday!

And I had this whole entry planned out (really, I did) complete with the following bad poem (which I shall only give you the beginning of, since that's all I've written so far):

One year ago today, this blog was won
And one year later, this blog is one!*

* Take THAT, 9th Grade Mathematics teacher who swore that I would never be able to reason with logic when it comes to any number above zero and added that I will subsequently also never amount to anything!

So yeah, I really had this long post planned out (it was all perfectly crafted in my head, which is, sadly, where most of my perfectly crafted words forever remain) about how this blog was sponsored by Emily (who dreamed up the contest and gave me my domain, and who has consistently bailed me out of several jams related to my ill knowledge of anything remotely technological), Joelle (who designed this blog with her usual flair) and Christine (my gracious hostess) and how lovely it's been to have a blog of my very own and how utterly astounding it still is to have actual readers and comments that aren't spam!

And I was going to thank all three of you, my loyal readers, for wasting your precious time by reading and commenting on here.

And I was going to say how sorry I am that I'm so notoriously bad for not responding to all the lovely comments that I get, using the fact that I'm a forgetful procrastinator as an excuse for not replying.

And I was going to share my New Blog Year resolutions with you, including the resolution that I shall from now on reply to your comments IN the comments on the blog... that way you'll see that you're really NOT being ignored, and that way I won't run the risk of losing the e-mails notifying me of your comments in the sea of spam I have to wade through on a daily basis, and that way it will also look as if I have an impressive amount of comments on my blog even though the reality is that I don't.

And I was going to give a shout-out to Kalisa and Carmen, who were also winners in last year's Win-a-Blog contest.

And I was going to resolve to try and indulge in less parentheses (who am I kidding, though?) and I was going to promise to try and write better. (Again, who am I kidding!?)

And I was going to tell you that, in case you were hoping that this blog would go dark now that my freebie year is up, I'm sorry to disappoint you, but the boy has just bought the blog a birthday cake and renewed everything that had to be renewed (except for the hosting. Thanks for your e-mail and your assurance that you won't cut me off, Christine!), so I'll be up and running for at least another year.

But my plan to write all of this in a nice long post suddenly flew out the window, because this afternoon, out of the blue, I received the most astonishing e-mail!

Remember my latest hero, Pulitzer Prize winning columnist Connie Schultz? (If you don't, scroll down to the previous entry, because that's where I gushed about her.)

This afternoon, as I was performing my daily ritual of deleting thousands of spam mails, I suddenly saw an e-mail with a subject that caused me to do a double-take before causing me to launch into a long and high-pitched scream.

Many moons ago I started telling you about a new hero I've acquired, courtesy of Google. However, in what some of you may describe as typical behaviour from me, I digressed A LITTLE BIT (written in caps not to be yelled out loud, but merely for sheer emphasis and irony) and started rambling on about some of my other heroes instead, never revealing the person who inspired the post in the first place.

Well, being the queen of the anti-climax, I shall do so today.

Right now, in fact.

Her name is Connie Schultz and she's a columnist for The Plain Dealer in Cleveland.

I found out about her on that long ago day while I was poking around on Google and reading some news headlines. The Pulitzer Prize winners had just been announced and so I clicked on the link.

And boy am I glad I did, because that's how I found Connie Schultz, this year's Pulitzer Prize winner for commentary.

I can't remember exactly why I clicked to follow the links to The Plain Dealer and Connie's columns (I originally clickety-clicked on the Pulitzer link to see who won the prize for literature), but I did, and when I got there and started reading her columns, I was hooked.

Here's why:

The first column I laid eyes on was titled: Don't dismiss trailer parks.

And then she wrote: "I am descended from trailer trash.

I was in college the first time I ever heard the term "trailer trash," and it made my eyes sting. Nowadays, people don't throw that slur around with the same sloppy ease, but the stereotypes of those who choose to live in trailers endure."

And with those opening paragraphs, Connie Schultz unwittingly made a life-long (for yes, I'm very loyal to my heroes) fan out of me. So I settled in with a cup of coffee and I started delving into her archives.

Do you know what it feels like to read something someone has written and to think, "Wow, I would love to meet him/her?"

That's exactly how I feel about her. Read on. I'm sure you'll feel that way too.

Her columns are written with such eloquence, yet it reads with conversational ease.

Sometimes she writes about her personal life: husband, children, dogs and Thanksgiving dinner.

Here's her hilarious account about singing in the church choir during the Christmas season: "The choir members performing this Christmas Eve gave up precious family time and countless episodes of "CSI" for evening rehearsals. They stoically weathered simmering resentments of the musically challenged who (a) think they should be the soloists and (b) can't quite believe their ears that you-know-who got it instead. They've endured the tyranny of those who read music versus those who do not.

I am an alto. I didn't want to be an alto. I wanted to be frilly and feminine and hit something higher than middle C without sounding like a mating rooster, but alas, God took one look at me and said, "Nah."

Most of the time, though, she uses her platform in the newspaper to serve as a voice for those who don't have the ability or will to speak up for themselves, from children to single moms to animals and everyone in between.

In this way, she used her digital pen as sword to fight a Cleveland restaurant that had been forcing its coat check employees to hand over all of their tips to the management. That column received such an enormous reader response that the restaurant changed its policy one day after it was published.

But the issues addressed by her goes well beyond the Cleveland city limits. At the height of the frenzied debate surrounding Terry Schiavo, Connie Schultz remembered that: "There are 71 other patients at the Florida hospice where Terri Schiavo stays."

About Ohio's Issue 1, an amendment banning gay marriages in Ohio "and all civil unions and strips health benefits to unmarried couples gay or straight at public colleges, including Cleveland State and Ohio State," she wrote these words that took my breath away: "I learned from my mother that those who are most secure in their faith feel no need to hammer others with their certainty. The walk of faith begins and ends with the journey within, and that's a path fraught with mystery and best guesses. My own faith makes me neither right nor righteous because it demands so much of me that I am still trying to find. Empathy, forgiveness, compassion - I never have enough."

I could spend a whole week rereading her columns and quoting them for you. Instead, settle in with your own beverage of choice and go and find her here. (You'll end up at a page asking your gender, date of birth, etc. Just three quick things. Slightly annoying, yes, but totally worth it. Then you'll be redirected to Connie's current columns and her archives.)

I bet that when you're done reading, you'll want to meet her too.

Just this past week, while going about my usual day-to-night-to-day business of alternating between the couch, the fridge, the bed and this here computer chair (not necessarily in that order), I acquired a new personal hero to add to my collection.

Just like that, without even leaving the house!

Well, to be completely honest: Typical of most modern-day hero-acquisitions, Yahoo! and Google helped me out.

You see, I was checking my Yahoo! e-mail (because like any semi-civilized person, I have an array of e-mail accounts. Anything to further complicate and clutter my life with! Besides, I'm telling you, having to remember two-hundred different passwords is a good way to jog the old memory and keep it in shape) when I skimmed the news headlines on the Yahoo! homepage.

My eye roamed across the line-up. All the usual suspects were present: The Michael Jackson trial; the war in Iraq...

I was just about to click away from the page when I saw another headline.

"Clickety-click."

Two clicks of the mouse later, and I knew that I had found myself a new hero to add to my collection.

My reason for making early-morning, high-pitched dolphin sounds is this!

I'm stunned, but unfortunately for everyone, not stunned enough to be quiet, ha ha ha!

I can't believe - well, so many things, really, but most of all - the category I won!! (But this is the last I'm saying about that, before they realise they've made a huge mistake, take it back, and give it to the correct person. So shhh. I'll ask the dog next door to bury it in the backyard.)

Also can't believe that people actually VOTED. For ME!?! So thank you all very, very much! Your cheques are in the mail. But even though it's only 5c (South African cents - and yes, it IS necessary to specify this), you'd better not try to cash it, unless you want to see some remarkable bouncing. (My cheques bounce higher than yooooouuuurrrrs, nah, nah, neh, NAAH naah!)

You realise of course that now, after all this voting going on on my behalf (Yeah, I KNOW that you never intended to vote for me; that your hand merely slipped on the keyboard and your mouse got stuck right when the little arrow was pointed to my name and that you merely clicked it out of anger to try and get it unstuck... Be more careful next time!), I'm seriously considering a career in politics. I'm aiming for complete and total control and domination of... Liechtenstein.

It's not that I'm lazy per se... Let's just say my ambitions might not be quite as advanced as that of people contemplating domination of the world's biggest countries. Or even - what a concept - global domination. (Just typing that made me tired.)

Yeah, okay... I'm totally lazy. In fact, I initially contemplated taking political control over Vatican City, since it's the smallest country and all (don't say you never learn anything on this site. WHADOYOUMEAN you already knew that?), but I've since gone off the idea. I mean, Dan Brown only wrote a measly little best-selling book, and look how much grief the Catholic highest-ups are giving HIM! I simply don't have the strength to wade through all that red tape while running the constant risk of being clobbered over the head with a Bishop's hat (and yeah, wise guys, I know that it's actually called a 'miter').

So maybe a career in politics isn't for me after all, but before you let out a sigh of relief... you're not rid of me yet, because I think I'll stick to this writing business.

Please don't groan so loudly... you're scaring all the small children and animals out there!

As for all the other winners and nominees - including him for visual stimulation and her for her blogilicious contributions to the world (Warning: Do not read on an empty stomach!) - congratulations!

Seriously, do yourselves a favour and click on the links to all the nominees and winners, and then you'll see that not all South Africans are savage barbarians like me.

That being said, to see photos of last night's utterly sophisticated ceremony held in Johannesburg (the Cape Town pics aren't up yet. Hung-over, Cherry? UPDATE: He promises they'll be up over the weekend), go here. As you'll be able to see, the moon(ing) was full and bright in Johannesburg last night.

Thanks to the Jo'bloggers for organising it. (No, not the moon(ing)... or did they? Well, they DID organise the event and rumour has it that they even picked up the bar tab, brave souls!)

Thanks again also to Cherryflava who decided that, in order to win anything, ever, South African bloggers needed their own awards.

But lastly, I would like to thank my own blogging benefactress Emily. If she didn't host the win-a-blog contest last year, I wouldn't even have this site right now. So thank you!!

And to all of you (yeah, I know I said 'lastly' up there... don't get so technical with me!), my readers (here she makes a sweeping arm gesture to include all three)... thank you for coming back here every day... or every week... or every month... whatever. You must REALLY be bored at work! Or is it a matter of not being able to take your eyes off a horrible car accident?

Never mind. I don't think I want to know.

Whatever your reasons are for coming back here, I'm sooo grateful that you do.

I know many bloggers out there claim not to do this for anyone but themselves, but that is certainly not me. Sure, I wish I could act all cool and nonchalant about it, but the truth is, I can't WAIT to check my e-mail to see if you've decided to comment on my drivel, because I often wonder if what I've written is making you laugh (at best) or cringe. (And if it's the latter, I DON'T WANT TO HEAR ABOUT IT!)

Your comments are often the highlight of my day (which probably doesn't say much about my life! What do you mean go outside and play? You mean a world exists outside of this glowing monitor?!? Impossible... you MUST be making it up! Go declare your science fiction elsewhere!).

I know I'm terrible at replying to comments from you, but I promise you that I read them all (it's hard not to when you average 2 comments a day, ha ha). So thank you, and thanks for wading through my verbosity and bad puns and my gross misuse of parentheses and somehow making sense out of it all.

Okay, this is the end of today's sappiness. But - and come on, you KNOW I can't resist - it is merely the beginning of my happiness!

I nearly sent the UPS guy back, telling him that surely, he must have the wrong address.

But there it was. A box with MY name and the logo of this amazing place on it. Oh, this logo which always causes me to salivate (attractive, 'eh?) with longing and lust whenever my eyes glide over it.

Still, I couldn't quite grasp that it was for me. (Yes, I'm quick on the uptake like that.) But it was my name indeed, right there, on the label, yet the eternal optimist in me still believed that it must've been an error.

The UPS guy must still think that I'm a bit daft or something, because I never even saw him leave. I just stood there in the doorway, clutching the precious cargo, mouth agape and yes... salivating.

I'm sure Pavlov's dogs displayed more grace whenever they heard that bell ring.

About four hours later, a state of complete dehydration caused me to finally snap out of my drooling trance.

And then I couldn't open that box quickly enough.

I ripped it open as fast as I could, only to find yet another box...

JUST kidding! (Ha! And a few entries ago I had you believing that I couldn't possibly drag any story out more than I did this one!)

Inside I found "The Hip Girl's Handbook for Home, Car & Money Stuff" by Jennifer Musselman & Patty DeGregori, a delightful how-to book (and you know what a sucker I am for a how-to book) I've been coveting for a long time!

But it's not just any old, run-of-the-mill how-to book! For one, I've always wanted to be hip, but I was starting to think that I'd have to wait a few years - like until I have a hip replacement - for any hipness to occur in my life.

Also, this how-to book actually teaches you many, many useful things (as opposed to the less practical subjects, such as a primer on writing a modern novel... in Hieroglyphics): from grilling like a girl (but a HIP girl, of course), to changing a tyre and unclogging a loo. All of those things that I've always been a real helpless female about while secretly wishing I knew how to do it.

Besides, you KNOW the book is going to be irresistible and highly entertaining when it's dedicated to "the two consistent men in our lives: Ben and Jerry's."

After skimming through it a bit (and finally having the whole matter of 401(K) plans demystified), it finally occurred to me to look at the receipt.

I saw a pretty and non-internet name (meaning a real person name as opposed to a blog name) which left me a bit bewildered and also, ironically, none the wiser as to the identity of my benefactress.

Until my eye caught this message: "Happy February!" Sent with love from HER!

And then I knew who she was!

Thank you, sweetest Mac, for this out-of-the-pale-blue-winter-sky, "just because" gift! I'm utterly undeserving and spoiled, but also VERY giddy, totally floored... and completely dehydrated!

And yes, you are correct, an unexpected Pesky'Apostrophe is indeed always better than an unexpected period and WAY more pleasant too!

P.S. Suddenly I LOVE February. I suppose it's safe to say that you've made my month! Even though it's YOUR birthday month. Is this some sort of an American tradition that I'm not aware of yet? This giving gifts to other people when it's your own birthday?

Not that she needs any MORE plugging (but hey, since I only have three readers, no risk of that happening).

Dooce the DORK. Nice ring to it!

CONGRATULATIONS, Dork! So THAT’s what a girl needs to do around here to be famous! Start a website, talk about your boss molesting the air around your head, get squealed on about said website, get fired, and ABC, NPR, NYT and all the other letters of the alphabet will come running and filming you typing DORK.

Are you ready for your close-up, Mrs. Armstrong?

(Update: The segment just aired over here. Okay, not JUST, but I had to watch the former Jeopardy! champions return straight from the vaults of genius, where they've been stored all of these years. Anyway, Leta made it on as well (that kid is going to use up her 15 minutes long before her second birthday rolls around if she keeps this up) and Heather is as articulate an orator as she is a writer. Now, the only question that remains is: Just how skinny IS that woman?!? I mean, isn't the camera supposed to make you gain like a 100 pounds?!?)

Now I can finally say that I knew her way back when.

Okay, so I never actually MET her, but I DID touch her boat, leaving my very own South African fingerprints on it, and chatted to some members of her crew. So surely that counts for SOMETHING, yes?

Maybe in a Six Nautical Miles of Ellen MacArthur kind of way..?

... then start a blog of your own!

Seriously, few people seem to be as generous as other bloggers. Of course, unlike yesterday, I have no confusing mathematical formula to back me up in this claim.

But when you consider the fact that I received this blog, the domain, the gorgeous design and the hosting for free (GRATIS, people!), plus a whole host of other fun goodies thanks to Emily and Joelle and Christine and Joz x 3 and Eve and Lomara and Deltus... then really, you have to agree that I don't need much more proof than that to be able to make the sweeping statement that BLOGGERS ARE GENEROUS.

But alas, I have even MORE evidence to back me up: A few months ago, after making a passing but probably very lame comment on Mice's blog about his incredible knowledge of vintage horror flicks, and pretending to be an expert myself just because I used to stay up late on Friday nights a million years ago when I was six to watch Dracula and Hitchcock Presents (yes, my parents allowed it, because they were fascinated with their youngest daughter's hypnotic fascination with blood, guts and gore. I think they were hoping that my unchildlike taste for thrillers were some sort of a belated sign of intelligence. By the time they finally realised their mistake - probably around the time I flunked first grade math - and that all the gratuitous exposure to violence in my formative years could possibly turn me into a serial killer, I was hooked), so Mice sent me a whole bunch of vintage horror movies! Just like that! For no reason whatsoever other than the fact that he is a generous blogger!

And you know, he could've just thanked me for commenting on his blog like a normal person would've done (and yes, that is something I don't even do myself, but then, I'm not normal am I? So for all of you who have bothered to comment on this blog and who rarely if ever get a reply on your witty comments: THANK YOU FOR COMMENTING ON MY BLOG and for continuing to do so even though I rarely write back. That in itself is enough proof that bloggers are generous! I'm afraid I'm not going to send any of you a horror movie, although I really wish I could scare the living daylights out of you in order to show my gratitude. My horrific writing will have to suffice).

By the way, Mice, I've managed to watch one of the movies so far and I WAS PETRIFIED! Review to follow soon. I'm working up my nerve to watch the rest, because I'm not as brave anymore as I was when I was six.

Anyway, so one would think that now I REALLY have enough evidence to back up my claim that bloggers are generous, right?

Wrong! Because I have yet another example.

During my recent dabble in depression, I actually went away for a few days to visit a friend* (because yes, believe it or not but even the likes of me have real life, non-imaginary friends. Although I've nothing against imaginary friends and believe that every person above the age of 21 should have at LEAST one of their own). When I returned home, a package was awaiting me. All the way from sunny Australia! From her! And it wasn't ticking, but even if it HAD been ticking I still would've opened it because that's how excited I was. Inside the box was a beautiful card and my FAVOURITE chocolates of all time. And not just one bag, but TWO bags of the golden, Crunchie goodness!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! And I was surprised at that, of course, but I was even more surprised because up until that moment I had never imagined that my favourite chocolate isn't just a South African treat, because according to the wrappers (mostly empty wrappers now, I should sheepishly add) they are manufactured in Malaysia, Australia and New Zealand too!

Thank you, thank you thank you sooo much sweetest Dee! These choccies are sweet, but you are sweeter!

So there. I've received all of these gifts from perfect strangers (well, I read their blogs and they read mine, so I suppose we know each other better than some people who we deal with face to face and on a daily basis know us) and I didn't even DO anything to deserve it.

All just because BLOGGERS ARE GENEROUS.

* Saying that I went away "to visit a friend" during my depression really wasn't a euphemism for being institutionalised, even though many people would probably argue that my friend does indeed live in a mad house.

And by today's subject title I'm NOT referring to the scurrying rodents! Make no mistake, I do harbour strong feelings towards them too, but I assure you, those feelings fall on quite the opposite side of the emotional spectrum as love!

So in this instance, I'm referring to him of course! (But tell Mrs. Mice and Little Bit not to be jealous, because my affection includes all of you.)

And why do I love thee so much to-day, Mr. Mice?

Because I got the movies that you sent me! Yes, readers, that's movieS - plural!

Mice and I were talking the other day (around Halloween, methinks) and although I can't remember exactly what was said, we did at some point chat about the fact that the boy and I... brace yerselves... don't have satellite or even CABLE T.V.!!!!!!!

So Mice did what any civilized person with a heart will do and he promptly took pity on me.

And since he is the King of Horror movies, he decided that I desperately needed some entertainment and education (also known, in some very high-ranking U.S. government circles, as edumefication) and thus he offered to send me any horror movie of my choice.

Now, since I don't know much (okay, anything! I don't know anything) about the genre, I left it up to him. And so, last night I received not one, not even two, but THREE WHOLE (AND CLASSIC) HORROR MOVIES!!!!!

Their terrifying titles are: The Brides of Dracula, Black Christmas (what better way to kick off the season?) and Aaaaaaoooooooooooooowwwwwwww: She-Wolf of London.

THANK YOU, Mice, Mrs. Mice and Little Bit! The boy and I are already shivering in antici......... PATION and can't wait to start watching it.

So readers, stay tuned for some real amateurish reviews from me over the next few weeks.

He is!

Thank you so much Simon and Showcase for deeming me worthy of this!

Hey, you guys?

Come back here!

Yeah, you and you and... mmm, we seem to have lost the other one.

I know I've been quiet lately (and note that I didn't receive any complaints about that from any of my three loyal readers.* I'm sooo touched, y'all!), but there is a good - actually, an excellent - explanation for it.

Yay! For some reason Simon has deemed me worthy of his blog showcase.

Thank you, Simon! I feel incredibly flattered, especially since I've been checking out the other showcased blogs and wow... the writing talent on display is completely mind-bloggingly (yes, pun intended!) amazing. (And see, all I manage to come up with are these lame puns, ha ha.)

Anyway, here are just some of the other sites I've discovered via the showcase:

When I heard him talk on the news for the first time, I knew...

Mike Melvill, the 63-year old guy who successfully piloted the very first privately-financed aircraft into space in a historic mission, is a South African!

Formerly from Durban where his sister still resides, Mike, who is also the very first civilian astronaut, and his wife (also South African) now live close to the Mojave Desert in California.

But what makes the story even more remarkable is that Mike never finished high school.

Despite not being the crowd favourite, he still won today!

And even though I'm not the biggest golf fan that's ever lived, as a fellow South African I'm really proud of Retief Goosen tonight, or, as the American announcers referred to him throughout the tournament, the "unflappable goose."

I find that nickname quite charming but also very humourous, since his Afrikaans surname is really not pronounced like that at all. It is rather difficult for English-speakers to say "Goosen" correctly, though, so I like that he has become known as The Goose around these parts.

But anyway, he has proven that he can still play golf, no matter what anyone decides to call him.

Has anyone in the States been watching Jeopardy lately? (Yeah, yeah... go ahead. Mock the shameless geek in me. Actually, I doubt that watching a certain quiz show is enough to turn me into a geek, but then... what do I know?)

In case you haven't been watching ...