In between your thoughts I live #Wenchytude

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Dear friends and other interesting creatures,

Judging by my event calendar,  I interact with a vastly different people every day.

Most people are always lovely and polite some with crude jokes … accept me as quirky,  slightly eccentric,  creative, somewhat intelligent who needs a serious fashion intervention. They point and laugh with me when I do something stupid often but the real ones help me clear up my mess and suggest lipstick.

Others find that the Wench is just too much usually woman.  For instance,  does this woman EVER stop talking!!! She’s just overwhelming with the purple hair and the porn nails. Does she not know you should not wear flip flops to every occasion?

They don’t bother looking further than the loud,  tattooed personality that comes with huge laughter and deep sobbing pain.  Shame.  Their live will be poorer for it. Probably also more silent.  Bless.

Sometimes I am not sure who fits into which category. If the world is but a stage, some people should honestly just play the part as the pot plant.  No glitter for them.  No exit stage left.

Thankfully just when I think we may have to stage an intervention, I find sincere and true as a nun prayer for the Von Trapp family friends, who will take my call at 3pm.  Especially as we know I detest speaking on the phone.

I just wanted to say THANK you for seeing value in me. My abilities, strengths, my talents,  as well as my weaknesses emotionally  physically & bonkers.  You let my work speak for itself.  You are working with me out of choice as I am a freelance Social Media Diva & Blogger. You choose me to help develop your naked vision.  I am honoured.

To be accepted just as you are…  Without the dame’s stage makeup in the pantomime,  an outfit from Doobie BOOBIES and a script that may sometimes resemble the #DoubleBass because I’m very exotic that way… is quite the achievement for a little one girl who owned red tap shoes when she dreamed of being Judy Garland.  Sigh. I love you very much and I am grateful.

What we can learn from this entry is that I am an observer in my madness.  I see you,  when you don’t see me.  I’m a sentimental fool who may have been a gay man in my previous life attracted to bears.

I wish you enough light,  so the path don’t ever seem dark.
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@frankliwild about @kevinfriedman – a memory

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Dear friends and other interesting creatures,

Surprisingly, seeing how wonderfully balanced and zen I am today, I did not grow up with a white picket fence.

The fence was painted blue and white.  About waist height and had rose bushes planted along the fence. On the bordering walls grew sweat peas. I loved the smell of my Oupa Mike and Ouma Chrissie’s garden.  It was full of beauty and love. 

I did not grow up with my parents, although they were involved in my life.  Well,  until I was 11 when my father died.  Then life changed but this isn’t about that.

Although our house had many bedrooms, I did not have my own room.  I had a box.  Ouma Chrissie prided herself on her very clean, neat home so at night I put all my toys,  books and Dolly Parton LP back in the box,  into the brown cupboard which kept her stuff for fixing buttons or stopped your toes peeping out your socks.  You would never have suspected a child lived in that house.

Ouma Chrissie,  looking back, had some co-dependancy issues. She often said the day I was born, was the happiest day of her life, so maybe she just wanted to keep me very close. I slept on a mattress on the floor next to her bed. I held her hand until I could hear her heavy breathing and she was asleep. Then I would look at the clock that never seemed to move. I’ve never slept well.

While I characterise these formative years as happy ones,  I guess deep inside me, it left some strange shaped boxes.  Stuff.  I am obsessed with my stuff.  I’m want to be clear what belongs to me,  what others are not allowed to touch.  Things I do not want to use in case they get “finished”. We not talking the good dinner service here.

There has been many such items in my life.  I will take it out.  Touch it… and then I put it away so it can’t “finish”. I don’t want it to “end”.

I am not sure where or how I met Kevin Friedman.  Besides that his intellect is admirable and chatting to him challenges my mind, Kevin is  often the best dressed man in the room. There is a sincerity about him,  a vulnerability.  Should I be reading Jane Austen,  we could say Mr Friedman is not of my station. He will laugh and dismiss that statement. 🙂

Kevin is an artist.  A jeweller with flair. Doubt there is much in his collection I could ever afford but he would never make you feel anything but welcome and at ease.

Our Mr Friedman makes exquisite pieces.  Earrings,  necklaces,  broaches – you name it. It is all very unconventional and delectable…. It makes me dream of flying to NYC in a private plane. (I seriously wouldn’t know what to do with myself. 😁)

For my birthday last year in June,  some friends and family came together at my favourite pizza restaurant. Everyone paid for themselves as a party was not in the budget.  I invited some people whom I know must have laughed at the pay as you go concept but (wealthy people’s opinions of me are not my reality),  I was so happy when Kevin came, purple dress code intact!

I always make a gift wishlist and it is never a Caribbean cruise.  A pedicure would be nice kinda thing.  I had made reference to an item Kevin had made and said I would love “something” like that on my birthday wish.

When I opened a gift with wrapping that looked like a gift in itself,  I looked at him and said you didn’t have to do that!  He laughed and said “… But it is what you wanted!”  I’m big on tears.

Well, my @frankliwild original by @kevinfriedman is a special gift.  I unwrap it carefully,  I touch it softly.  Sometimes a tear… could be ever so near… and then I pack it away so that it may never finish. 

Thank you Kevin for who you are.  That you proved that real friends don’t mind paying for their own pizza,  but more than that… You always pay attention to my details.

I treasure your gift, your genuine happy eyes when you see me and I thank you a gift that makes me feel enough!

Wenchy

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Rocking the 3am #Wenchytude

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Dear friends and other interesting creatures,

The past week I’ve averaged three hours sleep a night.  It’s been exhausting but the days and evenings exciting. I don’t know how I made it through each day but I did, smiling for most of it.

My son Liam James came to visit for the first time in months. I enjoyed spending more than 5 minutes with him.  I felt sad that he had to leave.

Our geyser gave in the week before,  this week our downstairs flooded with a burst pipe in the wall behind a the bath.  Cold showers are underrated but then it is summer here and hot. @SirNoid and I each have our own bathroom and mine is affected, making me feel like I am camping.  lol 😁 Yes that is Diva behaviour…  #justsaying

I went to see a play, a premier of a movie,  attended a number of greatly successful business meetings,  did numerous costing exercises,  I attend two media briefings with multitude of celebrities,  I received a wonderful stat report unexpectedly that just made my day, did a corporate interview,  knitted for @67Blankets, worked on numerous social media accounts, visited The Saxon twice in one week, visited my mom and Tayla-Jade (my niece who had a heart attack at 17 very recently) for a short while, attended  a wedding with my daughter Victoria,  wrote for publication, played #ClashOfClans,  #HayDay and #CandyCrush when I couldn’t sleep,  wore actual business attire more than usual,  updated my purple hair,  went to the optometrist,  did some banking,  took a selfie with Mr. Mandela’s statue in broad daylight in Sandton Square… and still have 1 000 unread emails in my inbox and a mountain of admin that awaits.  Yikes!

I love “Suits”, but I cannot stand Lewis.  No amount of pity thrown his way,  ever makes me feel sorry for him.

My friend Melany introduced me to a special coffee many, many years ago, Enrista , the weak one. I love it. I decided to give it up after looking at the carb content. It has been one week. I miss my coffee,  my brand – but my weight loss has moved in the right direction. I MISS MY COFFEE.

My husband has been long suffering this week. (Trying to make it sound dramatic) He attended two events with me which is most unusual but made me happy.  On Monday evening we were at a cocktail function in Sandton. 20th floor.  It was spectacular! First the sunset and then the lights. Wow #Jozi!

By Friday evening…  I could not walk.  Ankolysing Spondylitis and Fibromyalgia kicked in.  My husband had to park my car.

I WANTED to spend the afternoon with my husband,  instead after I came back from The Norwood Niche Market and I promptly fell asleep.  He woke me up at 19h00 wanting me to still sleep tonight.

Included in the week was showing the next generation how to make a duck face…  Don’t say I don’t give back.  #Wenchytude

What are you looking to this coming week?

I wish you enough.
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