The Gift

We need to backtrack a few days - back to December. There is a little story I would like to tell you about.

A funny thing happened in December. I only understood it's significance once I had read The Script. (I keep coming back to this book, but it is truly significant how the Prof had "memorised" it's scenes - he might as well have written it!!!! )

There is a chapter in this book entitled - The Expensive Gift.

Yup - he did this one too!

During December, we had once walked past a jewelery store. I am not a big jewelery person, and don't normally notice much of what is going on there. But on this occasion, as we walked past, a beautiful necklace caught my eye. I remember commenting on it, saying what an unusual design it had, and then we continued on. I didn't think about it again.

Toward the end of December, a brown paper package appeared in the dinning room. It was set on a table which stood in a corner. I used to do the ironing pretty close to that table. I don't know why I didn't notice the appearance of the package. Perhaps I was too preoccupied with our marital problems (at this stage I didn't know about Cream Puff yet, but it was after he had driven away the one night).

Be that as it may - I payed it no attention. This must have been wildly frustrating for the Prof - who notices EVERYTHING. He began dropping hints, and saying - did you see what is over there etc. I looked at it and duly asked - oh what is in there?

That is a surprise for you, he said. "Mmm nice".

I assumed it was a Christmas present, so I laid aside my curiosity - and got on with life. There was housework to do, ironing, kids to feed, and a marriage to save. Quite enough to keep my mind busy!

I really don't know what The Prof was expecting of me. Did he think I would take a peek, or that I would nag him about it? He eventually put it in my hands and told me to open it. Of course you can guess - the beautiful necklace I had remarked upon, was inside the package.

Of course I was thrilled, of course I was thankful, and told him so. Somehow, it felt like my words were just not enough.

He told me, that a friend of his (a lady friend whom he had met while studying his MBA), had said about me, that I don't deserve him, that he is too good for me and I don't appreciate what he does for me. My handling of the whole gift story was proof that she was right, he told me. (HUH? I guess to say it kinda spoilt the gift, would be a bit of an understatement!)

I truly did not understand this "attack". In light of The Script, however, it became clearer. A gift given under these circumstances (where the other person is having an affair), is meant to make you think - gosh look at this expensive, unexpected gift - it must mean he loves me. It is intended to say the following: See I am really a good guy, put you off the scent and prevent you from ever getting angry with me again.

In the Prof's case, he added an extra layer. He chose to take his friend's words to heart, became offended with me because I had not shown enough interest in THE GIFT, and was not thankful enough for the price it cost him. In short - he used it as a grand excuse to say - "see - I am right to leave her, she just doesn't appreciate me at all".

Well, from everything I have written, you must have gathered by now that The Prof (who truly was a Professor), had a whole string of degrees behind his name. I don't know who made this gorgeous quote - but today feels like just the right time to give it to you:

"You can have as many degrees as a thermometer, and still be a fool!"

As a footnote: I still have this necklace, and actually wear it with a lot of pleasure. I get a lot of compliments when I wear it, and then I think: Mmmm yes, it costs a dear price sometimes, to soothe a guilty conscience.

In Pursuit of Happiness

Could we take a slight detour in the story. One of the thoughts to come out of counseling is worth a "Stand still and take a closer look". Are you ready for a "heavy session"?


One of the discussions to come out of the counseling, was that of : do you believe you deserve happiness.


The Prof had been in pursuit of "happiness" for as long as I had known him. He sometimes said to me that he envied me because of my happiness. I think he had suffered from depression since his childhood.


If ever I can make a case for counseling, let me tell you this. The Prof witnessed his own father pack up his bags to leave. He was 6 or 7 at the time. Crying, he begged his dad to stay, but his dad just shook his head and said he could not stay. This little boy, should have received counseling. Although I am in no way able to give a diagnosis, my theory is that he suffered from depression as a child, and should have received professional help at that point. Thus happiness became an elusive shadow for him.


The counselor's thought provoking question led to the following reasoning by the Prof:


Everything about our marriage which had disappointed him - was chucked into this "happiness" basket. Everything which he had not agreed to, turned into the thought - I did this to make Yvonne happy, thereby sacrificing my own happiness for hers.

He honestly thought that the source of my happiness was thanks to the "sacrifices" he had made for me. (By the way - happiness is something you must be from the inside out, not the other way around)


This led to the further thought process of : Cream Puff makes me happy, if I choose my marriage - I will be repeating the same pattern I have been doing since I got married, I will be sacrificing my happiness for Yvonne - AGAIN.

December was the first time in his life that he felt truly happy – according to him.


Only now, do I have a different view of this way of thinking. Time, friends, and lots of counseling have taught me the following crucial truths:

(more later about where I learnt it) :

The King and Queen of every relationship is Trust and Negotiation. Trust grows through time, and Negotiation means that my opinion is just as important as yours. It means that we will be willing to negotiate our differences to a settlement. In order to negotiate to a settlement - it means there must be a balance of power in the relationship. If one party has stopped talking - for e.g. - then the non talking partner - has the balance of power (ironically). Only when that person starts talking - do they return the ability to negotiate to the other person. Makes a strong case against "THE SILENT TREATMENT". Silent treatment is not a good way to negotiate things to a settlement.


Now, the Prof had thought himself into a "powerless" position with this logic. He threw away the "negotiation" tool - in order to make me happy. (This sounds noble - but in the end - did not lead to happiness in the marriage). I am not even talking about the fact that his remembrance and interpretation of events was not the same as mine. These issues had not been negotiated and correctly handled. Now - in trying to find happiness, his attempt to resolve / correct these issues - were about to make him choose one of the most certain ways of failing in his pursuit of happiness.


Unfortunately, once a 3rd party has become involved, the willingness to resolve issues, disappears. It becomes easier to choose the greener grass on the other side, than it does to figure out the issues on this side. They become blinded by the excitement of an affair - they reason with their hearts - reasons that the head knows nothing of.

Expectations, The hair thing and all that jazz

Remember the new job? Well, that was due to start in January. I seriously considered leaving the job, so that I could concentrate on my marriage. Luckily my parents said - YOU WILL TAKE THAT JOB.

I only realised in retrospect how God had blessed me with the retrenchment and the subsequent new job. This job had paid leave, medical aid and security. God had laid out the path before me, long before I knew I needed it. At the time, the retrenchment looked like such a bad thing, and now it was a path forward, to something better.

At last the counseling session arrived. All my hopes were pinned on that. But counseling is not an easy remedy for fixing up something so broken already.

A lot of heartache, unresolved issues and "Stuff" came out in the counseling. The Prof told the counselor that we were "incompatible" - probably in light of his new found compatibility with the Cream Puff - I suppose!!! I didn't know what I was hearing. Why was I still surprised. (I hadn't discovered that book - The Script - yet).

Here is an example of the STUFF.

The Prof likes long hair. Mine - was at best, medium length, and in the last few years, decidedly short. When I had cut my hair short the first time, he had told me he could not love me with short hair (and proceeded to prove his point!). I was not against long hair, but my personality and looks don't go together with long hair. The times I had tried to grow my hair, I ended up tying it up - something the Prof hated even more than short hair. The nature of my work with the children, housework etc, makes me very impatient of hair falling in my face all the time.

Only later would I realise that this constituted an act of defiance which flew in the face of his controlling manner. In just about everything, the Prof controlled me - but in this - I broke out - and it was one of the things he resented most fiercely of all. (Like I said before - not the type of stuff which causes a divorce). O - and remember the photo I now possessed of Cream Puff - well guess what - her hair was SHORT.

Then there were other unresolved issues. Things which I had forgotten about years before, were brought up. He did not want children, he did not agree to an English school, he did not choose the church , I didn't dress sexy for him, I refused to wear makeup and perfume etc etc. The list was endless and exhausting. I had not made him happy, and marriage had not given him what he had expected. Hey buddy - for me either - but build a bridge and get over it. (Don't cross that bridge to another woman though!)

PI Yvonne

Well, believe it or not, we are still between Christmas and New Year.

The Prof went to the university to set an exam for his students. Do I hear you say - YEAH RIGHT? Mmm - don't worry - me too. Universities (normally) close between Christmas and New Year.

But I was thankful for the "break".

I got onto the Internet - and discovered the wonderful world of - Private Investigation.

With a bit of common sense, it was really not hard to track her down, as well as her husband. Up to now, I only had her first name. However, I even got a photo of her, her email address, the location where she sat... I could go take a few pot shots at her!

Briefly- I considered telling "murderous hubby" about her activities, but decided not to stir in such a big unknown pot. Perhaps he would come after me too!

I continued my new found occupation as PI. I checked out The Professor's (cum Eeyore's) bank statements, cell phone statements and found out that he had a HORRENDOUS cell phone bill. What a surprise! The bank accounts were not very revealing.

At this stage, I was praying that God would show the Prof what a mistake he was making. That she was surely just as broken a person as he was himself, and how do you build happiness on 2 broken marriages? But, I was starting to wonder deep within myself, at what point does one give up? At what point do I start to drink the Prof's anti depressants - certainly felt like I needed a double dose of the stuff by this stage.

I decided, I would hold out until the marriage counseling session - scheduled for early in Jan.

Tigger and Eeyore

Well, the naming business was such fun, ... thought I could do it all over again....

I thought of some more names, I even typed them into Word and asked the thesaurus to look up synonyms - but then the thesaurus went and spoilt my fun and rather lamely told me it doesn't know synonyms for the words I typed in.... hey - are you kidding me?

Ok ok, so I have had my fun. Let's get to the serious part.

I realise of course, that it takes 2 to tango, that The Prof deserves the names too (except I couldn't think of any!) Furthermore, I have subsequently - and sadly - learnt that a marriage breaks down, before an affair happens, not the other way round. That lesson was a pretty hard pill to swallow.

So - no more jokes about the names. (Sigh!)

Before I got so side tracked, we were in December - looking for marriage counselors.

The Prof reluctantly told me more about The Cream Puff. She was married, had 2 children, no friends (mmm wonder how many friends' husbands she tried to steal!), she worked at the university too, and her marriage was on the rocks. Her husband also worked at the university. (oei what a mess). Her husband had no clue about his marriage's perilous status. Apparently Cream Puff was not as forthright with her spouse as the Prof was with me. Aside from that - Cream Puff's husband was a violent man - and should he find out about his wife's indiscretions - he would murder her, and probably the kids too.

Somewhere in that week - between Christmas and New Year, The Prof and The Cream Puff decided to "break up". He was extremely down - really the only other emotion I saw, other than anger. He told me it felt like someone had died. (Funny - that was to be my experience too - not too long from now).

I am proud to announce that since I was no longer in "blissfully ignorant" land - I was suspicious about the wording of the "break up". He told me they had decided to no longer "see" each other. Well, that left writing smses and phoning, wide open, didn't it. It turned out that my hunches were now correct and functioning. The contact via cell phone had not been broken.

When confronted about this, the Prof completely lost his temper, told me that I had been married to him for 16 years, and had been "stuffing it up for 16 years too, all the while, I pretend the sun shines out of my butt".

Awful stuff to repeat and tell you, but when people are in this situation, they turn it around and make it look like it's your fault. All according to the Script. (See my earlier posts about this book, which explain that men who have affairs all follow the same pattern of deceit).

I know that I have faults, that I did things wrong in this marriage, but, the mistakes I made, don't normally give grounds for an affair. That was my way of putting things in the correct perspective. During this time, my family's support was invaluable. If not for them, I think I would have believed the stuff I was being told.

While throwing his hissy fit, The Prof threw down his cell phone and told me to check it then. I don't know how I remained so calm, but I did. I refused to rise to the bait. I also realised that the cell would no longer have any incriminating evidence, so it was useless to check what they had been up to anyway. I walked away, not looking at it.

A day or so went by. The Prof was so depressed that he consented to go to the Dr, who prescribed anti depressants for him. The Prof took the pills, got into bed and slept - promptly forgetting his cell phone on the table.

Of course I picked up the cell phone! I searched in the messages under her name, but there was nothing under her real name. Instead, there were initials and it didn't take a rocket scientist (never mind an outdated programmer ) to figure that out! So - I had found the messages. The ones which had not been deleted went along the lines of - so nice to hear your voice again..., I am not as clever with words as you are... - all this sickly sweet stuff. They signed off with - "yours Tigger". So - they had pet names for each other - she was Tigger and he was Eeyore. If you know Winnie the Pooh - you will know that Eeyore is always melancholy. Very appropriate for the Professor.

Oeps - I have stumbled on some more names for them!

What's in a name!

So, I have been gleefully waiting for this one - you've seen it coming haven't you??

I can't keep calling the other party to the affair a "HER", can I?

I've thought about this for a looooong time. O so many names come to mind - the "good" names rank along the lines of : The Other Woman - so we could try TOW (ha ha - he had another woman in TOW)
or

Floozie (oeps that is getting a bit naughty),

then VERY naughty would be Bi.... - gosh , that one almost slipped out!!
I am biting my tongue very hard now - or rather - my FINGERS. I promised myself my blog would be "nice" ......

OK so now I need a NICE name for Floozie. I thought about "Plus 1" . Here is my reasoning:

1 (me) + 1 (Prof) +1 (Floozie) = 3 and everyone knows that 3 is a crowd. And the Prof is big on Maths - so if he ever stumbles across this blog - he might appreciate that piece of humour. However, not QUITE it - but getting closer.

Ah HA - I've GOT IT. We will call her "The Cream Puff ". Why? - I hear you asking.

Well, follow the logic. My husband (new one - or rather - my last one!), says she is living inside a big fluffy puffy Cream Cake. She thinks this is heaven, but she cannot see past all the layers of cream. So - we have a name - honey - we are naming you: The Cream Puff!

How does that sound - The Prof and The Cream Puff. Has a bit of a ring to it don't you think!!!!

That's still on the nice side - isn't it?

Where's the cell phone darlin?

In the days following Christmas day, the Prof seemed to regain some semblance of sanity. (But not too much!)

He agreed to make a commitment to "try again", and that the "balance sheet of life" would be against him (his words) - in trying to make a new start with someone else. (Good thinking). He also agreed to go to marriage counseling.

From my side - I asked him to be transparent in terms of his friendship with HER.

By the way, do you know that it is impossible to find a marriage counselor between Christmas and New Year. Perhaps that was all part of the timing issue.

O well, now my "brain dead" had vanished - I was a whole lot smarter. Funny what a 'wake up' call can do to shake you out of complacency. I noticed that the Prof's cell phone was missing. I inadvertently stumbled on what I should have noticed LONG ago. That phone was never from his side. When I asked him about it, his clever answer was that his lady friend was not aware of the new situation (i.e. the fact that I was aware of the relationship), and so I might misconstrue the smses which she sent to him.

But darlin - how is that possible? After all - this is just an innocent friendship!

The Timing

The Prof's timing was spot on - straight out of The Script. Why do they choose such impossible times to break such news? I think the reason is that it makes you completely helpless, you have no one to confide in, no one to turn to for advice and help.

I don't think I slept much that night. The next day - Christmas day - was one of the darkest days I have ever experienced. I told myself - breathe, just get through this minute, then the next and the one thereafter.

Jack (a dear friend of mine), had told me not long before - sometimes we need to take life, one day at a time, sometimes we take it 1 hour at a time... I remembered his words, and I took it 1 minute at a time.

The whole family got together for that Christmas that year, his family, my family, even extended family. I was physically sick. I never knew stress could make you sick so quickly. Everyone assumed that I had gastro. I left them to think what they wanted. I was intent on keeping my horrific packet of news away from my loved ones, least I ruin every Christmas to come, for years from now.

Toward the end of that dreadful day, I accepted a glass of whiskey from my sister's father-in-law. I took some perverse pleasure in this - the Prof had tried for years to get me to like the stuff. I wasn't interested in "liking" it now, just thought it might dull some of this awful pain. I then told my sister what the Prof had told me the night before. Her face told a thousand stories - all of disbelieve - must have been what my face looked like, not 24 hours earlier.

At the end of this day, I was back to "talking" again. I was still trying to figure out this relationship thing. He told me that his relationship with her, was like mine with my darling friends, Muff and Jack. They understood and accept me - blah blah blah (These folk are like additional "parents" in my life.) I just couldn't help myself blurting out - well, I promise not to leave you for Muff and Jack. (How dare he compare such an innocent and wholesome friendship with his affair!)

Throughout this talking period, I stayed exceptionally calm. The Prof once said he wished I would become angry and chase him away. I think that that, is what he was aiming for - then he didn't have to make the decision to leave - I would have made it easy for him to leave.
I refused to give him such a gap, and I refused to believe this was the end....

The Problem gets a name

It is the 24th of December 2006.

I have spent a week talking (since the night trip to Bronkhorst Spruit). At this point I have missed some crucial clues. The fact that the Prof's cell phone had completely disappeared from sight, passed me by. He was looking after that phone better than he looked after the kids when they were babies!

Marinda (eldest daughter) had sent me a beautiful bible verse on my cell phone a few days before: Deut 31:8
It promises that the Lord goes before you and will not leave you. I read it over and over, looking at each word of that verse. Marinda, by the way, had no clue of what was happening. The children were oblivious to it all.

Although I was too brain dead to realise what was actually happening, I do believe I TALKED the problem out of the Professor. What I mean by that is - I talked him to death, and he gave up and told me the partial truth!

On the night of the 24th , he could no longer bear it and suddenly blurted out - I have met someone else, I don't love you anymore, she understands me like you never did....

No...............

At this point, words failed me (hey - I can hear you laughing, I can hear you say - rare occurrence for you Yvonne).

The devastation of that moment... is hard to describe.

Every dream and belief I had held dear, slipped away like sand through my fingers. The disbelieve, heartache ... even the -" I don't understand what is happening - please let me wake up from this awful dream"... feeling, is all part of it, but really tells only a slice of what goes through your mind in those moments.

It feels like, what I imagine it is, to find out you have cancer, after having suffered from an illness with no name or face. The news is devastating, but the problem gets a name - AFFAIR.

A word about the timing. I so wanted to give you some quotes from the book - The Script - the 100% absolutely predictable things men do when they cheat. But the wheels of copyright approval turn slowly apparently. The best I can do, is to give you a link to their website. You can download a free chapter and get the idea.
According to the script (written to show that men who cheat all follow the same recipe - and in my case - SO TRUE), I was in good company regarding the wretched timing. Henry Ford II, grandson of the the founder of Ford Motor Company, chose the evening before their daughter's glitzy "coming out" party, (a huge social event), to tell his wife of 23 years, that he was leaving.

Not Funny

I am feeling decidedly "Not Funny". Our geyser burst, and the ceiling fell down etc etc.

Now this story has a funny spin - linked to THE PROF, which I will tell you later, once I have regained my sense of humour about this (not today). Amongst other things, we suddenly understand the horrific R4000 water and lights bill - THANKS GEYSER!

Since I can't be funny on my own, here is a link to someone else's funny story. She writes for Jo-burg connect, and made the mistake to journal her experience through a wine tasting :
Don't drink and facebook


Tomorrow I continue with December 2006.

Insider Trading - Part 2

Mo ooo m - a long drawn out "mom" sound - like a sigh. This is Arno of course, getting into the car this afternoon. My heart sinks as I think - mmm what NOW.

"Well, mom, today I like talked to Kevin about the bet - AGAIN hey. You know, I like explained it to him, in different language, because I thought maybe he didn't like understand it ..hey."

I'm listening to this in silence, wondering LIKE if I can tell him to stop with the "LIKE" and the "HEY" business. I decide the grammar lesson had better wait... there is a moral lesson coming right up in the next 10 seconds or so. Too many lessons in one go, when I am clearly having a hard time with this one...

He continues: Well, Kevin listened to the whole story hey, and then he was quiet for a while. So I thought like - he understood me. Then Kevin says to me - "ok I get it- let's sweeten the deal and make it R21"!!

I start to feel this giggle starting way down, and know I am losing this fight. The thoughts are coming fast and furious into my head, don't know which one to pay attention to first. Driving becomes just one task too many. It is sounding something like this:

• Not a full box of chocolates
• "sweeten the deal"????
• calculations as to the growth of this bet (if only add earnings on blogs would escalate at rates like this bet)
• and finally - why the R1 at the end of R20? I can "get" the R5, R10 and even R20 - but what made Kevin say twenty ONE rand in particular?

I catch myself and try to compose my face into the moral objection face I had intended to put on originally. Arno looks at me and we both start laughing.

"M o oom", he tries again, "I don't get it. I really told him. "

So how did you tell him - I ask.
"I told him that the teacher comes to our house and gives us guitar lessons, and that she told me my mark right after we had written the test. "
Sounds logical to me. "I know he LISTENS to me other times"!

Really? Now how do you know that, I ask.

"Easy, I like tested him".

I am almost too scared to ask - o now how did you do that?

"I told him that I packed 6 provitas , 2 tennis biscuits and chocolate sticks for lunch. Then later I like went , so ... I packed 6 provitas, chocolate sticks and .....", Arno lets his voice trail into silence, then puts on his "Kevin" voice and completes the thought - "2 tennis biscuits" .

"Now how did he know that if he didn't listen? "

I am still trying to think about the details of that lunch (the lecture I should give him), and decide to give this one up.

Upon hearing their test marks, Kevin had said - I guess I owe you R21 then.

The "jury" in our car (the girls) voted unanimously in favour of the defendant. They decided that perhaps Kevin deserves to "pay up".

The daffodils (present)

My life is made up of a myriad of people, ideas, places etc. I am sharing them with you - because it is what makes my life such a colourful patchwork and so full of fun!

Look what is in my garden! Daffodils!!!!

My grandfather was a grand old man. He had a happy, round face and always smiled. His head was completely bald, except for a band of hair round the rim of his head. You know the idea where you put a pot on a child's head, and cut around the pot - and then they are then left with some hair on the top of their heads? Grandfather got the inverted pot treatment! He lost his hair (on top of his head) when he was a young man in his 20's. It never bothered him though.

Opa (as we called him) was a well known daffodil grower. He cross bred daffodils, he got to name his creations (one he named after his daughter - Susy), and had a passion for them his whole life long.

He was already well into his 80's when they caught him riding his bicycle (in Holland) - to his beloved patch of land where the daffodils bloomed. He was a danger on that bike at his age, but you just could not keep him away.

I have not inherited his green fingers or his precious knowledge of growing these gorgeous flowers. But a strange thing has happened. Through the years, dad passed along daffodil bulbs (as gifts) from his work - he worked here in South Africa in the same industry as Opa. Of all the bulbs he passed along, the only ones which keep coming up year after year, are the daffodils. The other kinds of bulbs just wither away after they have bloomed 1 year, but the daffodils keep coming back every year.

And every year, when they show their sunny faces in my garden, I am reminded - perhaps I am more of my grandfathers offspring, than even I realised.

The Professor

Well, let’s name and shame the guy – and call my then husband – The Professor. (He actually really was a professor at the time, working at a local university). So – from now on I will call him The Prof.

We are now in December of 2006. The Prof was acting very strangely. I put it down to the depression he had suffered from for years. He would sleep late, keep even later nights, not come to bed when I went to sleep. Probably the most telling of all is that I could no longer do anything right. He got mad about the smallest of things.

There is a very funny and excellent book which I read much later – The 100% absolutely predictable things men do when they cheat. If I had had a sneak preview of that book, I would have realised that The Prof had apparently read it too (or at least attended classes about it) – because he followed the pattern spelled out by the book – down to a T.

So –true to form, everything I now did was sub standard and wrong.

A case in point. Somewhere around the middle of December, I was frantically trying to fold and iron washing – to get it out of the way. Ironically, this was because I knew The Profs hatred of a messy house. His pet hate was the washing lying around.

He was highly offended that I chose to do washing rather than spend time with him - his argument was that I cared more about the washing than I did about him. Huh???? (Just by the way - how about some help with that washing?)

No amount of logic from my part (and please remember – I am a programmer – I have PLENTY of logic in my arsenal), could persuade The Prof as to my good intentions.

I went to bed , forgetting my cell phone in the kitchen – BIG mistake. The Prof sat on the porch and consoled himself with a glass of whiskey. By midnight he sent an sms from his cell to mine (yeah – believe it – the porch is only about 5 metres from the bedroom), to say that since I had not come to speak to him about the situation, he could only assume I am not interested, this is no longer working – he is leaving. He got in his car and left.

The very first I knew about all this, was when I got up the next morning ...to find the Prof gone, and a message on my cell – in the kitchen.

I phoned him and talked nicely (another good trait of programmers – we think fast, talk fast – and the LOGIC of course). On a serious note, my plea to him was – surely one does not get in your car and drive off over WASHING? And by the way – WHERE are you?

He told me he was in Bronkhorst Spruit . Well, that is probably about 2 hours drive away from our home. (It was also ever such a slight twist of the truth). Witbank, and Bronkhorst Spruit are ever so slightly NEXT DOOR to each other.
Enough for today. We pick up in Bronkhorst Spruit / Witbank tomorrow!

Insider Trading (present)

Well, I've decided it is hard to catch up all the history and then tell you all my fun stories later on, when they have become dull and part of history too. So, I am going to add the bits and pieces in as they come up. I will show these present tense pieces by adding PRESENT to the title.

Last week I was trying to help Arno (youngest son -11) to study clouds. By the end of the week we were both sick of it. I searched on the Internet and found some nice diagrams showing pictures of the different clouds as well as the height at which they occur. This helped a bit. But the break through came when I taught him the meaning of the words for e.g. Cirrus means "wisp of hair", cumulus means "heaps" etc.

The teacher who gives him this subject, also comes to our home to give him guitar lessons. Great was our excitement when she told us that he had the highest mark in the class- he had 70%.
WOW.

About a day after this news, Arno arrives home to inform me that he had made a very "safe" bet with his best friend Kevin. He had bet Kevin that he (Arno), had got the highest mark in the class!!!!

Trying hard not to laugh, I seriously informed him that he needs to reverse that bet, since he had "insider trading information".

We pretty much left it at that, but yesterday this conversation started up AGAIN. Only this time - the bet had escalated from R5 to R10. The difference? - well this time Arno had told Kevin that he was the possessor of privileged info via guitar lessons. Somehow Kevin didn't understand / missed this crucial information. Arno figured it was now OK to take that money from him - he had told Kevin the truth .... not his problem if Kevin doesn't listen!

Delayed

Apologies if you are waiting for the next installment! Turns out a programmer can have a heck of a hard time trying to figure out how to enable ADS and understand the instructions for all this stuff.
Oi!
Tomorrow I am visiting Nan (remember the granny I visit once a month). Her stories are coming too - they are awesome.
Till the weekend, by which time I hope I have figured it out, and had some time to write.

The Start

It is rather embarrassing to admit that I am a programmer, but have never blogged. Never even tried it. Humph. Guess I could add that I have 3 kids, sometimes 5, part time job (programming), full time job (running kids around), and time is limited....
Well, never a time like now.

Want to know about the name? 2412Towers? I really rather hoped so... because that is where the story starts.

I hope that people the world over will forgive me, because the name is stolen - sort of. It is a variation of the 9/11 Twin Towers. 2412 stands for the 24th of Dec 2006, and is the day my personal world collapsed as unexpectedly as the trade centre on the fateful 9/11. I in no way want to diminish what happened there, and in no way want to say that I suffered a loss, like the families of the people who died in 9/11. It is merely reference to the huge tragedy it was in my life, and the unexpectedness of it all.

Let me tell you more.

I was happily married to a difficult man (as I would have told the story then). I had 3 beautiful children, 2 girls and a boy. They were 13, 10 and 8. I worked as a part time computer teacher for a local college and was a housewife the rest of the time. I went to bible school, visited some darling old people, had hobbies, time to read... and I guess in retrospect, I was lonely and empty. My husband worked long hours and suffered from depression. Our weekends where spent sleeping (him), working (me). (HA HA - of COURSE!)

2006 sure turned into an eventful year. By the end of Oct I was retrenched from the teaching job, a position I had held for 8 years.

I started looking for a new job - as a teacher (note - not my trained profession). I had stopped programming 10 years before - with the birth of my 2 nd daughter. Who would take on a programmer who was wildly out of date experience wise? Anyway - I didn't need a full time job - so a teaching job would suit me fine.

One door after another closed. No one wanted a computer teacher who was not really a computer teacher by training. A friend asked me to send my CV to the company where she worked - they needed programmers.

I went for an interview. I remember being heck of a cheeky too. Well, I said, I want to work - but really not too hard... I have kids to look after, I fetch granny for coffee once a month, (in my mind I was saying - hey I want a job, but really I don;t have time for work!!!)
Can you believe I got a job - with that awful attitude? Well, I did! I had prayed about it. Asked God, let them offer me this job in the interview - if this is the one I must take. Well, that is exactly what did happen. I must admit, my own amazement that I was hired. They said - OK, you can work 7 to 1, and you can have Thursdays off, to visit granny.

I must sign off, the kids are calling. I will continue my story tomorrow.