It’s all about the Base…

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Dear friends and other interesting creatures,

I’ve become a loyal fan of Glamore Cosmetics over the past few months. Not only because Gael and Emma is truly exceptional in customer service, but because the products are in a class of their own.  Affordable, plenty variety and delivered to your door. There is always something new to look out for on their web site, so save it as a favourite.

One of my first orders was the Eyeshadow Base. I had no idea there even was such a thing! It is easy to apply, great longevity because you use a small amount at a time, but more than that, your eyeshadow is as fresh at nightfall as it was in the morning when you applied it.

I was thrilled to see @GlamoreSA currently has a special on their 5 shades compact, with a proper application brush and mirror included AND a full size Eyeshadow Base!

This got me thinking about Secret Santa. What a wonderful gift this would be and Glamore Cosmetics will even take care of delivery! Sorted!

Glamore Cosmetics was kind enough to gift one of my readers a 5 colour compact (there are three different colour sets to choose from) which will include the Eyeshadow Base.

In the comment section below, be sure to include your colour compact of choice and an email address to arrange delivery. :)

The winner of the Giveaway will be announced on 22 December 2015.

To be sure you definitely get a touch of Glamore, you may want to purchase the special, and gift another (to your Mom, Sister, Friend, Secret Santa…) with a touch of kindness, should you win…. letting them in on the secret of Eyeshadow Base and long lasting Eyeshadow.

I wish you enough,
Wenchy

Posted from the galaxy of Samsung from the second cloud on your left.

… love never ends, if you keep it alive.

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Dear friends and other interesting creatures,

14 December 1984. I always count until a second before 19h00 thinking…. I also had a Dad. After that, nothing.

At 19h05, I dry my face and resume life. I’ve done this ritual for as long as I remember.
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My life was forever changed from that moment. I was 11 years old. Oupa Mike was crying. I felt confused. Oupa Mike didn’t cry.

I remember just observing, not grasping the depth of what just happened. I do remember my Mammie’s desperate grief, the tears that made her physically ill, the hopelessness and the forever you were not going to come back for.

I remember how loudly you laughed, I do remember you playing the guitar and singing. I remember milkshake and biltong. I remember someone placed a guitar made from flowers on your grave. It reminded me of Elvis.

I remember you, but you voice is silent in my memories. I hate I can’t remember what you sound like.

Oupa Mike stepped in and became my Dad. Solid. Dependable. Protective. How very blessed I am! Then, Dad Alex took us all on his shoulders.
imageYou are the fallen leaf on my new tattoo, on the left. There are two falling to the ground in remembrance of Oupa Mike and Ouma Chrissie.

Ek onthou.
Stel.

Koek, tert en die beste oats ooit!

Dear friends and other interesting creatures,

My hart se punt, Louw Breytenbach and the gorgeous soul Stephan Akeci will be the first openly gay Afrikaans couple to feature on a Media 24 reality program, “Lek jou lippe af!”, that kicks off this Thursday evening. 

I know Louw would cringe at the tactlessness of how that sounds, die kind hou nie van kommin nie! :)

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Anyone who knows these men, will know how vulnerable they feel, living their truth in a world full of mirrors that blind us. Being a gay couple in the open, never mind on TV, has very real challenges. I should know, I married one, once. 

People as a collective have the capacity for great love, and much cruelty, with judgement to spare!! (I’m sure there is a special kind of hell for those who live in glass houses.)

These are my friends. These are my people. I applaud you for being true to yourselves, for the very real friendships we share and the love, grace, understanding and joy you have bestowed upon me since the moment we met some three or so years ago.

I got you.

#Lekjoulippeaf! Donderdag 10 Desember  2015 op @viatv, @DStv kanaal 147 om 16:30.

Go and follow the boys on Twitter! @louwbreytenbach @AkeciStephan #TurnUpTheHeat

I wish you enough,
Wenchy

Shut your eyes and see.

Dear friends and other interesting creatures, 

Every year,  I do my best to approach December as a passage of time, just another month. Some years I do better than others.

The anniversary of my father’s death is on the 14th, and my Oupa Mike on the 12th… Just before Christmas is Oupa Mike’s birthday.

I remember the eleven year old me running into the safety of Oupa Mike’s arms the night my father died.

I remember a 14 year old Kev holding me the morning Oupa Mike died. The unsure reassurance we offered each other.

December holds memories I don’t want to remember, but just can’t forget.

I have found Christmas more difficult since the kids moved out. At least when the kids were home,  I had a reason to go through the motions. They all have their own lives.  Own friends.  New traditions and memories to make. I never want to guilt them into visiting.

It leaves me yearning for a yesterday  when I would decorate the table, put gifts under the tree and we would pretend whatever I burnt,  undercooked or completely stuffed up was the best thing ever.  :) I usually would redeem myself with pudding at least!

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I know if we stay home it will be like any given Sunday.  I want to feel something, go somewhere, make my heart dance…. but going out is double the price for Christmas, and having the kids all together is near impossible. Besides,  wherever you go,  you take yourself with you.  :) 

How do YOU hold a moonbeam in your hand and have yourself a merry little Christmas?

I wish you enough,
Wenchy

Posted from the galaxy of Samsung from the second cloud on your left.

Get your kicks on Route 62*

Dear friends and other interesting creatures,

Founded in 1853, Robertson (named after the Dutch Reformed Minister Dr William Robertson) lingers in the long shadows of the Langeberg mountains, gently persuading the Breede River to share in the bounty of the land.

Today, Robertson is a sleepy little town by night but as as the largest of the neighbouring towns of McGregor, Ashton, Bonnievale and Montagu which all fall in a 160km radius of Robertson, supplies are mostly collected from Robertson.

I was invited to join Mira Weiner from McGregor Country Getaways for a boutique breakfast at the very stylish and excessively upmarket restaurant under the watchful eye of Chef Reuben Riffel (see Masterchef) situated at the Robertson Small Hotel.

The area in which breakfast was served was beautifully lit with natural rays. Servers ready to provide you with your every need and a smile. I had a salmon omelette which was very tasty, but the flapjacks were the item that made everyone around me order the same.

Rich in colour, light and fluffy and beautifully presented. The most photographed flapjack of the day!

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Robetson Small Hotel

Robertson Small Hotel won the “World Luxury Hotel award” in 2011, 2012, 2013 and 2014. Think intimate, private, plush, pleasurable, stylishly being spoiled and pampered.

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I was delighted to get a tour of the rooms. My favourite being the accommodation that opened up onto the pool. A slice of heaven, literally just sliding into refreshing blue water.

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I could curl up with my book and let the hours pass me by in the luxury that surrounded me. Beautiful scenery, Inviting smells of freshly baked goods and friendly staff…

I wish you enough,

Be The Change

Email: reservations@therobertsonsmallhotel.com for reservations and do sign up for their newsletter as they do have regular specials.

*Robertson Wine Valley forms part of the longest wine route in the world, Route 62.

A name, I call myself…

Dear friends and other interesting creature,

My parents shared they were desperately wanting a little girl when they were pregnant with me.  Which is awesomeness cause I never wanted to be a boy.

As I understand it, my almost 20 year old father went to register me and decided Christine, the name they had chosen, after my Ouma Chrissie is not for me. See, he clearly already understood me them.

My mom tells me that my father was very much like my son Liam James. Charming.  Good looking. Always busy with a budding business idea.

My father and the lady behind the counter decided Christel is a gorgeous name. My father thought my Oupa Mike also needed acknowledgement and added Michel. ( … a Beetles song I’ve had both sober and drunk men sing to me. #bless) Having dyslexia, my father did not go for the usual spelling of either name.

It was the age of the double barrel name, and when the lady behind the counter suggested it to my father, he could probably just hear how fanTy that truly is.
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Christel-Michel is one name. One initial.  Its not Christel.  It’s Christel-Michel. Force yourself. The people behind my father in line is owed at least that.

Wenchy is who I am or who I became as life happened.  If you love me and can’t imagine your life without me, then it’s Stel. I’m am Afrikaanse boeremeisie at heart and its Aunty Stel if you remotely younger than me and I am very old. 

I do love the name my parents gave me. I do love Wenchy because it holds very dear memories for me. Most of all I just love how you say my name as if it’s just been born.

I wish you enough,
Wenchy

He traveled very far, over land and sea…

Dear friends and other interesting creatures,

I wanted this child so very much. I prayed him down from heaven, including asking God that please,  I do not want a boy with red hair! Have mercy. I never found out the gender,  but I was having a boy. My boy.

I wanted to give him the world but my ruby slippers was dusty and instead life dished us a bone crushing of a white picket fence.

My Kev was there for every happy and every sad…. Every sunshine and every rain,  every peanut butter sandwich and every one with chreese.  I cringe with heartache when he casually shares what he remembers. I wish he didn’t.

Not long ago I was once again apologising for something I felt I could have done better in his life.  He looked at me with empathy (which he reserves for few, mind you) and said :

“Nancy,  thank you for leaving my father. If it wasn’t for your bravery I would never be where I am today. Those experiences made me who I am now. I am grateful. Thank you. You did good. “

Besides that I still don’t know why the kid calls me Nancy… I cried. What do you say to that? Sure? Anytime!? Twice on Sunday?

None of my biological or adopted by heart kids are wall flowers. They are all opinionated.  Loud in happiness and sorrow. Very me,  but don’t tell them.  They want to be their own people. #dammit

Be Kev’s principles right or wrong… or at very least extremely questionable,  you can forget about him changing his mind.  Wonder where he got the stubborn streak from?

Kev did not mention his intention,  nor design of this tattoo with me. I stumbled across it on Instagram in the middle of the night and looked at it for a long time,  a lonely tear falling down my cheek.

The bear paw (an easy nod amongst to the Gay community) Kev got in remembrance of his Daddy Brian (the second in my long list of husbands – which sounds less exciting than it is), who came into Kev’s life when he was four years old. You do not need DNA to be a Dad.

The butterfly inside the bear paw is for me.  I have a huge butterfly on my right arm representing my kids which is why Kev decided upon the butterfly. Skin colour,  no ink. Thank you Kev. It means so much to me.

Kev did laugh and say he was thankful we were at least both born in 1973!

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Love is patient,  love is kind and love never questions another man’s ink.

I love you my boy.

I wish you enough,
Wenchy