Bottomless Coffee

So… Divorce Care is not an easy place to do any catching up. You work hard there! Watching training videos and discussing the topics takes up all the available time. Since email is also a slow way in which to do any gossip, Werner and I made a coffee date.


Second Cup – makes good coffee, and has the added advantage of having a bottomless cup of coffee. Not my fault if they are “business sense challenged”! That day was not to be a profitable day for them!

As opposed to my previous date, where I had carefully picked up my friend in my car and dropped him back home on my terms, when Werner offered to pick me up, it somehow felt ok.

He arrived on time, opened and closed the car door for me and before you laugh at this chivalry – he does so till this day. I politely keep thanking him and we keep smiling in a secret, unspoken agreement which says – you open, I thank – we’ll carry on with this!

We lost count of the number of cups of coffee we had that day. We talked and talked and talked. Much of it went along the lines of… did you know that they….. or , hey – they actually went to Cape Town together…. Interspersed with exclamations on NO – did they really?

We must have been hilarious to watch from the outside looking in. We were not a dating couple, we were not old friends having coffee… who would have guessed that we were comparative strangers from opposite sides of affairs - busy hearing the other side of the story for the first time.

It took us many months to piece the story together. Not that we actively tried to do so, but many realizations only came much later. Puzzle pieces kept falling into place.

It was through Werner, that I realized that time the Prof drove off through the night – to Bronkhorstspruit – he actually went to Witbank, where Cream Puff spent weekends on her mother’s farm. Only recently did I hear, that her family on the farm, all thought the Prof was a divorced man. So that night did not seem so strange to them, I guess. One wonders what their excuses were for Cream Puff – whom they knew was married. In fact, I suspect that one of Werner’s greatest feelings of betrayal – aside from that of Cream Puff, was the silence of his in-laws on this matter. Those folks were more than his family, they were his friends. But – his mother-in-law was gravely ill at the time, and one can only wonder at the quandary her daughter’s affair put her into.

Eventually, regretfully, we had to leave. Werner dropped me at home, and wonder above wonders , consented to having yet another cup of coffee at home.

We were sitting on the stoep, drinking this cup of coffee when the Prof arrived to drop the children at home…. Oh dear!

Bits and pieces (Present)

This is a "tying up" of some loose ends type of post.


Do you remember when I wrote in one of the posts that Werner's X had pneumonia? Now that you know who Werner really is, do you realise the significance of that? I was praying very hard for Cream Puff, to get well again!!! This has all been brought back to mind, because we are hearing rumours that she is not well. We don't know exactly what is wrong with her, the little ones don't seem to know about it, and we are not "in the know", of course. But, as with most things, time has a way to tell.


On to other loose ends! (Hey I feel like a news reader!)





Last week was prize giving at Marielle and Arno's school. Marielle walked away with top honours - receiving 5 subject trophies and for getting the highest class average. I can't even remember what that average is - something like 92%. Remember - this is the one who says every evening during exam time: Mom I'm scared I don't know my work!

WOW Marielle, we are bursting at the seams with pride.



Now Arno, on the other hand, has us worried. He "always knows" the work when you ask him. I wish a bit of exam nerves would hit him, but he is blissfully ignorant of the term "nerves" - they don't figure anywhere in his little makeup! Well, he did do us proud as well. He got 80% for the Maths (yes - despite getting such a low mark for the exam due to not reading the questions properly), and he got 93% for his Afrikaans. Well done Arno!!!! We are so proud of you.



So, that puts the exam stress behind us and now we have a very loooong holiday. However, a tiny cloud on the horizon (but one with a silver lining - hopefully), is that one of the teachers spoke to us about Arno. Although most people say - he is a typical boy, we can't use this excuse for everything. He struggled through these exams mostly because he misread questions. Is this a concentration problem? Is it comprehension? This same teacher gave wonderful advice. We are starting a whole schedule of things with him today:

• Reading - lots of it,


• Crossword puzzles,


• Copying over of paragraphs within a certain time frame - needing accuracy and neatness


• A handwriting exercise program.

I found a wonderful article about handwriting, where they explain that handwriting is a function of muscle groups. You need strong arm and shoulder muscles in order to write properly. We now have an "exercise" routine for handwriting. Another interesting thing about this is: he needs to draw these shapes - over several lines: / O X \


These need to be drawn over 4 lines, and gradually through time, you start to make the shapes smaller.


The hand writing muscles got me thinking about another something : core muscle strength. Children with low core muscle strength, battle to sit up straight, and battle to concentrate, because their concentration goes into keeping them sitting upright. Typically they slouch, or lie down if they can. (Arno does this all the time. He looks like water - always flowing to the lowest point.)


So, as of today - Arno is sitting on an exercise ball. Doing homework, eating, watching TV - all on the exercise ball. This is very good for building core muscle strength. It also keeps you from slouching, because if you slouch - you roll off the ball. (That should wake him up!)


I will let you know if these ideas help.

Ah - another photo. This is what "farewell" to primary school looks like:


O dear, I am very heart sore - another phase has just finished. Can't we stop the clock somewhere - just for a little while?

"Windgat"

Just a very quick, and funny piece to tell.

Our household is hectic at the moment. Year end functions, prize givings. Last night was the prize giving at Arno and Marielle's school. I am fair bursting with pride today- but will wait for Werner to process the photos - then will tell that story tomorrow.

These events have their usual awkwardness, with the Prof being in attendance too.

The Prof phoned yesterday afternoon to find out the times of the prize giving. The girls were at ballet, so I was out with them, while Arno and Werner were home.

Arno answered the phoned and told his dad he "thought" the prize giving was at 7. The Prof then wanted to speak to "someone else, someone who knows" - he told Arno.

Arno was trying to explain that the only other person there was Werner, but before he could finish his sentence, the Prof got pretty insistent: Get me someone else on the line.
O well, Arno shrugged, if his dad does not want to listen, and since he did not specify a someone... Werner would have to do.

"Werner, phone for you", and so Arno gave the phone to poor ,unsuspecting Werner.

Silence from the other end, before the Prof mumbled - what time is it tonight. O, said Werner - at 7.

"You were very "windgat" the other day" - the Prof told him. That is an Afrikaans expression meaning - very "brave", but in a sarcastic way. Actually - the Prof was being "windgat". He is on the other end of the phone where Werner cannot throw cups of coffee at him!

As an aside: The Prof was referring to another incident where Werner walked out to the car and spoke to the Prof - face to face. This is a rare occasion, never pleasant - and in this case was necessary - for other stories which are still coming on the blog. Be that as it may, Werner kept his cool that day, and told the Prof what he needed to, before walking away again. There ended that "windgat" incident the Prof was talking about on the phone now.

Werner thought for a moment, then said - You know Prof, you messed up your own life - don't come taking it out on me...

The inevitable silence - the wheels sometimes turn slowly in that clever, high IQ brain. The Prof then resorted to his usual defence - I didn't phone to speak to you - CLICK - phone dead.

It takes a special kind of intelligence, to resort to putting down phones, don't you think. And that after the Prof was the one picking a fight.

My dear, wise friend, Lynette always says - he who looses his temper, looses the fight. I wonder if she has ever come across a special case like the Prof before. Me thinks not! There can only be one of him... I hope.

Marielle (Present)

Here are some photos we took of the girls on Sunday. Marielle had her farewell, and Marinda got dressed up for the fun.

Marielle keeps asking - am I on your blog yet? Then I shamefacedly shake my head and say "no".
Well, why not mom?
Ummm, because blog posts can't be forced - they just sort of happen.

Then she looks totally unconvinced and has decided her brother must be funnier than she is. In truth, she is an angle. She is the model child. Of the 3, when they are studying, she is the only one you don't see at all until the subject is done.

Every single night during exam time we have the same conversation, almost like a ritual:

Mom, I am scared I don't know the work for this exam.
But Marielle, you say that EVERY night.
I know - but this one I really don't know.
Well, then just do your best and pass.

Her pass is usually 90%.

On Sunday was her grade 7 Farewell party. I am feeling very sad in my heart for her. She is moving from a private English school, to a public Afrikaans school. Her friends are remaining behind to continue high school in the private school. (One of the stipulations of the divorce agreement is that the Prof pays only if they go to a public high school). This is not as bad as it sounds. The school she is going to is very excellent - and the change worked very well for Marinda.

Standing still to think about this change over, I remember mom crying when Joan and I went to high school. I remember a total incomprehension at this, from my 13 year old perspective:

What is your problem, mom.

Now I am there, and am tempted to cry too. Hey- what am I doing with 2 grown up kids already, who are in high school. Where did life go to?

Divorce Care

NMH was in a much better place than when I started writing originally.  We continued to email. He had done a lot of soul searching, had plenty of time to himself to start sorting out his head since I had originally written to him. I was beginning to understand his sometimes strange way of writing – like learning to decipher a child’s speech. Too much in a hurry to write, his words often left a letter behind in the previous word. Obviously he did not re-read his mail. He punched it out and clicked send!


I had enrolled myself in Divorce Care. This is a very excellent program run by many churches.  Anyone going through divorce should consider going to Divorce Care. That was a smart move!
I invited Werner to come along too.

At first he declined: I don’t need “counseling”, but then on second thought, he decided to come after all.

Divorce Care was the first time I met Werner face to face. He was easy to recognize. He was the only man there! He was waiting for me in the parking lot. How he recognized me, I have no idea, but he walked up to me and shook my hand. Some strange allegiance was born. We had this quick discussion: We don’t tell the folks inside how we are connected, right. Right!

So – in a room full of strangers I solemnly said: my husband ran off with another woman, and Werner said – my wife went off with another man. End of story.

The folks from divorce care assumed we were friends. It was obvious that we knew each other somehow, but they could not quite connect the dots: and we didn’t help them.

This started a very hilarious part of our story- in some respects. Divorce Care was not even 500 meters from the Prof’s new house. It was held on Monday evenings, and since the Prof wanted to see the children on more than just weekends, I arranged with him for Monday evenings. I didn’t tell him about Divorce Care, just asked him to drop the children at home again at 8, so that they could get to bed on time for school, when it became apparent that Divorce Care did not end early enough.

Werner on the other hand, did not see his children often, he didn't even have a place to let them sleep over for weekends (he was in the process of selling his house), so he arranged to visit his children on Monday evenings. As his visit finished up, I dropped my kids off, and from there we went to Divorce Care.

We had many a laugh about the fact that we had free baby sitting services, while we were busy with the “healing” process. It seemed fitting somehow.

The revenge of the unrelenting exam timetable (present)

I don't have much to say today. In fact there is only one thing I am battling VERY hard not to say: I told you so. I think I have bitten my tongue right through by now.

Why? Well, at 8 o'clock last night Marielle looked at the book Arno was carrying around. "Why are you studying LO", she asked, "you are writing SS tomorrow"!

WHAT????????? Huge consternation, some frantic phone calls to his friend Kevin (the one from the betting fame post earlier), only to find out that his sister was right.

I am standing like a big horrible hag, frowning at him.
"This, Arno, is what happens if you loose your time table."
If I could draw myself as a cartoon, I would paint some big, awful, thunderous clouds spitting lightning in every direction, above my head. The music will be JAWS music.

So, he sits down again and starts over with the learning, while I sit by fuming. I had told him, after the discovery of the "lost timetable", that he had better get another one, by hook or by crook. So, he diligently copied the teacher's one, which was stuck up on the wall. To give him his due, he did copy it down correctly.

Who knows where his head was, when he decided what he needed to learn. I no longer know or care if it is the time tables fault or not. In fact... why am I still worrying if I will get him through Matric? He may have been kicked out of the house long before then.... to be a street sweeper.

Garage Doors and Hi-jacking risks

I had long wanted electrical garage doors. The Prof had always said it could not be done because the garage roof was flat.

Well, Handy Heinz disagreed. He came and put in beautiful garage doors.


After changing the alarm code on the house, it became apparent that the Prof was misusing his privileges. He would fetch the kids in the mornings, to take them to school and then watch them put in the alarm code. I had to keep changing the code.
I got Heinz to put a new control onto the gate motor. It now got channel hopping remotes – and the Prof did not get one – of course.

His bad behavior got him banished into the street. Not happy with this situation, he tried to threaten me with: if you don’t let me drive into the drive way – I will stop taking the kids to school in the mornings. I am a hi-jacking risk in the street.

He even got my neighbour (my Pro-Professor neighbour), to come speak to me about it.
Yvonne, you must remember, he can be hi-jacked or killed waiting in the street – he is still the father of your children, she told me. I tried to explain the concept of – bad choices lead to bad consequences etc – but she didn’t get that.

To the Prof I wrote the following:
I am at equal risk, standing outside your house to pick up the children. I also don’t have access to your property. Furthermore, stop threatening me. IF you don’t take the children to school, I will make alternative arrangements. You will be cutting your nose to spite your face.

I never knew that my words had an almost prophetic prediction in them.

Arno update - halleluja!

This is too good not to pass on.

The Prof phoned the school, and just happened to get the Maths teacher picking up the phone - Murphy's Law? (Or as my friend says - Karma - can be a real b..ch!)

A very "subdued" Prof then told her that he now understands the situation, and he no longer wishes the principle to respond. Well, knock me over with a feather!
Yippee. OR maybe... he has stumbled across the blog?

Er... NAH - I think not - he would have been flipping some lids!

The one and only - Arno (present tense)

Well, Arno seems to be the subject of many a post. He is usually cute and sweet, but these exam times have stretched our relationship and my patience to the very limit.

He doesn't sit for 5 minutes to study. Yesterday, I caught him sneaking around outside, so I sent him back to his room to study. A few minutes later I went to check up on him (thank goodness), and found him hanging out the window - "to get fresh air, mom".

I think the final straw was when I discovered "we" have been learning (and I say "we" - because I have also actively been learning his work - don't you know!), according to Marielle's time table. WHY? Well, because mister has lost his - so he thought it a good idea to learn according to what his sister is writing. What is the problem with that, mom?

I sat for a full minute with my head on my arms at the dinner table last night, trying hard to process this information. Finally, I prayed, Lord, please don't give me strength - I might just misuse that, just give me endurance....

Well now, here is the dilemma. He wrote Maths the day before yesterday. Maths is his best subject. We had taken worksheets from the Internet, and practiced until he finally said - why do you keep giving me stuff I know how to do?

Maths teacher, is also his guitar teacher, so with "insider trading information", she told us he got a mere, terrible 45%. WHY? Well, because he was not concentrating, and so he did not read the vital instruction which said: show ALL you workings out on the exam paper.

He just wrote down the answers. Now, BEFORE you are tempted into thinking that this is a very harsh lesson for a little, cute boy to have to learn, let me put this in perspective. If he had shown his working out, he would have got 60%. Still not a good mark for his Maths. It turns out, just as badly as he read the beginning of the paper, just as badly did he continue. He misread the questions throughout - costing him precious marks.

Here is the reason for my story. The Professor - who himself is an A student, and perfectionist beyond perfectionists, heard of Arno's mark. He got on his high horse and wrote the principle an email demanding answers, and saying that this is highly unfair - when Arno has met the criteria.

I was then forced to write my own email, stating that I felt very strongly that Arno's marks remain the same. Arno needs to learn the consequences of his bad learning style, as well as his lack-sa-daisy attitude to reading the questions. He needs to learn those lessons NOW - rather than later. He must also not get the idea that when things go badly, his dad will bail him out. Imagine he misreads his Matric  Exams (do I think he will ever REACH matric???) , then what? The Professor will phone the moderator and say: hey - my son actually is just a bit misguided, I insist that you adjust his marks so that he passes? I somehow don't think so...

Well, would love your opinion, words of wisdom, advice - whatever! Did I do right? Arno by the way - will still get a good mark for his maths - because he had a high term mark.

One Email

Is it possible, for 1 action, or 1 word, or perhaps 1 Email , to change the course of your life…..?

It did in mine.

As with most such things, it happened without emphasis, without loud announcements and without any fan fare. It happened on a quiet day, in a quiet way. The earth did not shake, and the stars did not fall from the sky – but looking back, I realise it might as well have – so great was the effect in my life, and the children’s lives. It happened with 1 email.

This is what landed in my inbox, about 2 months after I had stopped writing to NMH (Not Murderous Husband)

Hi Yvonne


I know that I don’t know you or your children, but I was wondering how you are doing? I find you and the children occuring in my prayers more and more.


NMH


So – now I guess you can put 2 and 2 together and jump straight to the end of the story! Can we “rename” Not Murderous Husband and call him Now My Husband? (NMH gets a brand new meaning.)

Let me introduce you to Werner – Cream Puff’s X husband.

In the posts to come, I will tell you how our friendship grew, and how this one email became such an important one. For after this email – I began to writing him, and no one’s disapproval made any difference. We write each other, to this day!

Being Sought After

I am friends with a very dear couple from my previous church. He used to be the deacon, and would come visit me every month. He had a fatherly attitude over me, and often helped me out when things were broken around the house. I am talking about the time before the Prof left.

These darlings, have a divorced son who lives in the Cape. One weekend he was up here visiting them, and I think they decided on the spot who would make him a good wife. So, late-ish one Friday evening, they phoned me asking if they could come over for coffee. No mention of the son!  The kids were at the Professor for that evening - so I was alone.

Once they arrived, son in tow, I realised what this was about . I remember feeling like wanting to sink into the ground. I was not dressed nicely, it was all so sudden and unexpected. What a gastly feeling : being  set up for “market”. It felt like I was being paraded. Strange thing is – you feel guilty - as though you had a part in their ploy.

He was a nice enough man – his biggest drawback being that he had the same name as the Prof! He looked about as uncomfortable as I felt.

The humorous part of me was still able to smile. I imagined myself outside this situation – looking in. I was able to take a huge complement from this – and thought something along the lines of: these friends looked at me – and saw potential. They had thought to themselves – if we don’t get them hooked up – someone else will snap her up!

So in that vein– I accepted their visit in good grace.

The next day, their son phoned and asked  me if I would come out with him and the family the following day – Sunday. I was completely taken aback. In my fluster I said yes.

Luckily – that day Jonathan and his family were visiting me.

They sat and talked things through with me. Why would such a person be in such a hurry.  I phoned back and very politely declined. To top it all, the children would be very freaked out by the potential of such a relationship.

Well that "decline" was the death knell to that little escapade! I never heard from them again (no, not the parents either).

I decided that THIS scene (being "set up" by friends), was just as yukkie as the singles scene. I said a "NO thank you" in my heart to this too.

I have a life you know

One of the other things the Prof nagged me about was wine glasses. He wanted them back – or at least a fair share of them.

I looked at all the wine glasses, and in a temper – packed the whole lot. Thought to myself – you have the whole jolly lot you know – drink yourself to death with them. The Prof did drink. Not what you would call an alcoholic – but certainly every night.

So, the wine glasses went to the Prof.

Some time after this – can’t remember how long, I began to think to myself… if people come here – for dinner say – then they will think I don’t have a life. I have not 1 bottle of wine to my name i.e. I have no life.

So, I took to buying a bottle of wine a month.
Now, what I know about wine is scary. I know what tastes nice and what doesn’t – but that is where it ends. The Prof took about 14 years to get me to drink red wine. When I finally discovered one I liked, it turned out to be a jolly expensive bottle of red wine – o please don’t ask me what – because I have no clue.

So, how do you buy good wine, when you know diddles about it? I stood and pondered this whilst standing in front of rows and rows of wine bottles in the shop. I finally decided that price must be a good indicator. With that in mind – I bought myself an “expensive” bottle of wine every month. I think I had 4 bottles of wine to my name, by the time I invited friends around for dinner.

By the way – this was the friend I went on the first “date” with. He had since got himself a girlfriend and they were coming round for dinner.

Somewhat chuffed with myself, I pointed out my bottles of wine and told him to pick one. That done, we went scouting around the house for a bottle opener. Oeps . Sort of forgot you need one of those to open the bottle.

When we finally found one, I suddenly remembered – o you idiot Yvonne, you have “no wine glasses”. You gave them all back remember!

Well, we poured the evidence of “I have a life you know”, into cold drink glasses. It tasted all the same as if it had been in the Prof’s fancy glasses… and boy did we laugh.
So – I had a life, just different to what the Prof might have measured it by!

The Fountain

The Prof is a great lover of gardening. To this day, he considers the garden (and house) as his property still. He has missed this garden more than he ever missed us!

When he picks up the kids, I see him marching up and down the fence peeking in to the garden to see what we have done there. It is funny in a way - but very sad too. Almost as though he is looking back in to the life that used to be his. I wonder then - what goes through his mind?

He had put 3 fountains in. The first, a great huge thing right in the front of the patio – in your face. It is impressive in it’s own way – I have seen the same thing in front of huge hotel entrances. Are you getting the idea – this thing is too big for a normal garden!

The Prof never dug a foundation for this fountain. The result was – it ALWAYS leaked. In fact – it leaks to this day. The Prof would seal it up, then the ground would shift and wala – the leak was back. In fact – the Prof joked that he put in a borehole to keep filling up the fountain.

Well, in the moving business, he asked for this fountain back. I was quite cross, then realised my “letting go” theory applied to this too – and told him – come and get it.

Mmmm, the fountain is still in my garden ....I guess he didn’t know how to get it moved.

So he settled for taking out one of the other fountains (one that was easier to move)– ironically , leaving a great big gaping hole in the ground. I guess the – O Yvonne I don’t want to leave any holes in the house by taking anything – didn’t extend to the garden!

Footnote: We have decided to fill in the leaking part of the fountain and plant it with flowers.

The Meeting

The first meeting (kids meeting the Cream Puff), was set for a Saturday morning. The counselor would pick up the children and take them through to a Wimpy, where the Prof and Cream Puff would meet them.

The kids had been planning “revenge” on her, and the counselor told me to leave them to it. It was their only way to “get back” at her in a situation which made them feel powerless.

Ha – had I been worried that the kids would not be “true” to me? They were fiercely loyal. Suddenly the puzzle pieces were starting to fit for them too. They also put things together such as – hey mom – Dad lied to us! We saw toys in his car, and when we asked him about it – he told us he had given a work colleague a lift home.

They put the pieces together on hundreds of little details. Remember how we have an expression in our house which says - honesty always pays you back. I guess you can say that the opposite is also true: Lies always pay you back too. Somewhere along the line, they come back to haunt you.

Well, the fateful day arrived, and with huge trepidation, I put the kids in the counselor’s car, and watched them drive off. A part of me felt like the affair was being committed all over again…

Afterwards, we laughed at the kids so much. I didn’t think they would have had the courage to carry out their plans of revenge – but they did.

Arno got under the table, and threw salt on her shoes, Marielle stuck prestick on her skirt and Marinda added a few spoons of sugar to her coffee.

GO KIDS!!!!!

They took an instant dislike to Cream Puff – OF COURSE! I think it had more to do with the “being forced” to meet her, and being “forced to like her” which made them feel like that. "Dislike" was their only defence.

It was also apparent that Cream Puff and the Prof were very uncomfortable and nervous. Cream Puff had no idea how to relate to my children – and spoke to them all as though they were 4 years old.

But it was done. Now the Prof could get the kids on weekends, and no longer had to keep up the pretense of living in the garden cottage. It paved the way for him to “move in”.

The telling

I will tell about the garage doors a few posts from now. I forgot to write about a very crucial piece of the story, which actually fits in before the new garage doors.

I need to back track here a bit. Do you remember that Marinda had guessed there was someone else, and when she had asked me – I had confirmed this. The Professor was very mad about this incident. Marinda, to her credit, had not shared this information with her brother and sister. She is an awesome young lady.


The kids were still in counseling. The Prof was not much interested or involved in their counseling, except to complain about the costs involved, and to start using the counseling as a means of getting the information about the Cream Puff through to the children.

Every week he wanted to know if the counselor had told them about Cream Puff, and every week I passed the information along that she had said the kids were not ready to hear it. At one point he threatened to tell them himself.

Deciding that it would be better coming from us – myself and the counselor – where we could control the information, our hand was forced.

Unfortunately this all happened on Marielle’s birthday – a fact which she still clearly remembers and I think she still holds against us.

Now, for a second time in their lives, I was involved in telling them something awful, of which I actually wanted no part. By now the kids were much wiser and “with it.”, compared to the telling of the Prof’s departure. After the counselor had told them, Arno came running out of her rooms, to my mom, who was in the waiting room outside.

“Oma, oma – have you heard? There is ANOTHER WOMAN”, he piped up. For all the world – it had the “gossip” element to it – as though passing on a very interesting tidbit of choice information.

We then  made the arrangement that the counselor would go with the children on the first meeting – which was set for a short while thereafter.

What an awful feeling –needing to let your children go to meet (and possibly “like”) the other woman. Who in their right mind lets their children go to meet “the affair”. How could the Professor be doing this to his children? It was as though he was "proud" of the situation and could not wait to introduce Cream Puff to them. All these thoughts were going through my head. There are no books and no conventional wisdom – to help you deal with these situations.

My biggest concern was over the emotional well being of the kids – and for that reason – the counselor was going with. This was a small consolation.

Moving things right along

We are now in June 2007.

The Prof did an excellent job of moving out. He took his clothes, his Gran's bed... and moved. The rest of his stuff was still stuck in the house.


Ok – so to be fair, since I did not want him back in the house, the fault was my own too.

There was a day where I decided – enough already.

I went out, bought boxes and proceeded to clean out the house of any last vestige that were “Prof” like.

To my amazement I found – all the old stuffy stuff was his – and all the nice stuff was mine! I can’t really say if that was the way I chose it, remember it, or if it really was that way. I reckon by saying – "o Yvonne, I won’t take anything because I don’t want to leave any holes "– that it left me pretty much at liberty to choose what I wanted to give back to him.

The most fun I had, was pushing each full box out onto the veranda. With each thing going out the house, I thought – there have some more of your rubbish back! (Actually - I thought of a more choice word than that!) Mmm – not nice, I know. But I can’t always be nice.

It took me days to work through the house. It was really a “letting go” phase. There were things that belonged to him, which I felt attached to. I would think – can I let that go – for the sake of peace?

And I did! After he had been to collect it all, I still got asked by him – please can I have this or please can I have that. He even asked if he could come into the house to check I had given him everything. Of course I treated this request with the scorn it deserved and said coldly - NO.

I told him – draw up a list of stuff you still want , I will give it back, and you will sign a piece of paper to say – this is the full and final settlement.

This is exactly what happened.

The photo I posted, I did with deliberate thought. It is the only photo I have showing the old garage doors as they were. They were old and rusty - I will tell you in the next post what I did about that problem!

Checking out the Cream Puff

I had never seen Cream Puff. I had only seen a photo, taken from the Web. One day, a friend of mine, who lives one block away from the Prof’s new house, phoned me.

"Want to check out Cream Puff", she asked. "She is watering the garden outside."

Well, that was an opportunity not to be missed, I thought.

We drove past, and sure enough, Cream Puff was standing outside watering the garden.
I couldn’t believe my eyes! She was just ... Ordinary. She was more than that, she was plain, plump … nothing much to look at.

My thoughts went something along the lines of… you left me for this????

My friend and I began to laugh. Come on, let’s drive around the block – check her out again.

So, like naughty school children, we drove around AGAIN. I think we drove past about 3 times, each time, laughing harder than the last.

I think Cream Puff became aware of us, but I don’t know if she ever realized what was going on. To this day, I am ashamed of this incident. During the whole process, my conduct had been honorable …. Above reproach. This did not feel like the honorable thing to have done… to laugh at someone behind their back. It would have been better to have a face to face fight with her (something my counselor had forbidden me to do – can I hear you saying – aaahhh.Don’t worry , me too. There were days where I also wished I could go bop her on the nose!!!)


But, I did learn something from it all – affairs are not about the spouse who was cheated on, they are not about the other woman being prettier or younger… affairs are something with which the people involved, try to fill a gap in their lives.

The concert (present)

A follow on from yesterday's post. L K 's comment made me realise I did not finish off the story. The guy who took my number at the horrible date - never did phone me back - thank goodness!! Then I got a huge giggle in me. The Prof now has my old cell number - some funny stories coming up about that - so imagine if weirdo phones the Prof - Ha ha.

Last night Marielle and Arno had their school concert. We all went off to watch - Werner included. He took his camera - he is an wonderful photographer (yes I am very biased!)
As the concert progressed, he would hop up, go to the front, take some photos and come back to sit down. He did this repeatedly throughout the concert.

As the concert finished, I was suddenly thunderstruck by this. The Prof has always hated these concerts with a passion. He sat through them - endured them, but made no secret of his distaste. Last year, we had bought him tickets and he "forgot" to arrive. He was meant to have brought the children home after the concert.

It broke my heart to know, that they searched each face in the audience, looking for him, and then stood outside the hall, with no way to get home. I got a few frantic phone calls from friends who saw the kids standing there, and Werner and I ended up picking them up - as well as trying to "mend" the broken pieces of their hearts.

I do know that each person makes mistakes, and I too have forgotten things - this was just a particularly bad one to have forgotten.

So, I sat last night and looked at this dear husband of mine, and my heart just overflowed with thankfulness. I told him - thank you so much for doing this - for hopping up and taking photos - just like all the other dads, and for being here with us, enjoying it so much. He looked at me and smiled: But of course, he said - these are OUR kids.

To think - there was a time that I thought: so who would want to take on a divorced woman with 3 children?

Thank you sweetheart - for taking us all on!

The Date

Yes, I got a “date”! It felt very strange to even consider a coffee date with someone else. Was it even right to go?


I picked a weekend where the kids went to the Prof. Then I went on a coffee date with a very old friend of mine. He and his wife had been our bible study leaders when the Prof and I had first got married. Now he had been divorced for many years.

I, being a rather careful sort, offered to pick him up – so that I would be in control of this situation!

It was lovely. A friendly catching up of years. I was not looking around to get into another relationship – I knew there was a whole lot of healing which still needed to happen. But my friend understood where I was at. His ex-wife had also had an affair and left him.

But that “date” did me a world of good. I saw how someone else had got through difficult years, saw admiration in someone else’s eyes, and we spent an enjoyable Sunday afternoon at a coffee shop.

Another “date” which left me shuddering right into the present time is one I did not want to go on.
A  friend from church, who was going through the same thing as I was, had heard of a Christian Singles evening being held at Rosebank. She pleaded with me to come with. So, 3 of us – "half divorced" ladies, went to check out the “single’s scene”.
No, that was not pretty. These folks get together once a month and have a meal at a restaurant. There were people there , all manner of shapes and sizes, all different ages, some of them quite strange, others - bitter.

One weirdo character, (it was clear why he had never married), asked me for my cell number. Completely at a loss as to how one dealt with this situation, I gave him the number. One of the “seasoned” single ladies pulled me aside and told me – NEVER, EVER under any circumstances give out your number. Well, I said, but they are nice people – Christians – aren’t they? She clicked her tongue at me, clearly thinking: who let you out of the crèche? I got a stern lecture from her.

I hated that evening. When we drove home I prayed: Lord, I never EVER want to go out on the singles scene. If I am ever meant to meet someone again, You will have to bring him along to me, because I am NOT going to find him in this way (not that I want anyone mind you – I just mean – no thanks) Amen!

A day in the life of the canyon

Looking back at the photos of the canyon, I have a strange yearning to do it again. Maybe I can understand why the others have done it 8 times already - and plan to do it again for as many years as health will allow them to...

I look at the strange beauty and remember the silence which greets you there. Well... I think - I have some fairly new hiking boots in the cupboard.... yes - maybe next year or so?

Next time I will be better prepared. Boots walked in, more painkillers in the bag, and NO Jelly Tots.

This hike is only open in the winter months due to the extreme heat. Another factor which determines the walk is water. The availability thereof, or lack thereof rather. If there is no water then you don't hike. Something the group has also learnt, is that it is better to go as early as you can in the season. The later you go, the less the water and the worse the quality of the water.

Here is Des, holding up the precious source of life!



When you arrive at the canyon, and stand and look down into the desolate depths, everything dry, parched - no sign of life - you wonder : WHAT have I got myself in to?

You look down at those terrifying depths and wonder – will I have what it takes to complete this journey. If you get stuck, they need to send a helicopter in to get you out. I have "heard" that there is an “escape” route out of the canyon – somewhere. I have “heard” that people took it, I have “heard” that it is harder to climb out there, than to finish. I have never seen it, and I don't personally know anyone who took it. You go down there, you walk and you finish - no matter what. In this respect - it becomes a psychological walk - more than a difficult one. The battle is fought and won in your mind before it ever reaches your feet.

All these thoughts mull through your head as you stand and look, and ponder this thing you are about to do. A curl of tension hits your stomach, and you realize, the others are thinking the same.

Then we are off. You climb down for the whole day. Along the way are chains to hold on to, at the dangerous parts. I don’t know how much you drop down – maybe 2 kms?

Day 1 you go down, find a suitable sleeping place and sleep. No bathrooms, no beds, no tents. You carry all your food and stuff in with you – about 20 kgs for the guys, 12 -16 kgs for the girls.

You sleep on the hard ground, under the stars. Our walk was at full moon. Luckily, they had warned me to bring a beanie hat. The first reason is to keep your head warm – it gets chilly there at night, and secondly – so you can pull the wool over your eyes. Ha ha – pun intended. You pull that cap over your eyes, else the moon shines down on you like a spot light and keeps you awake. It is eerie and beautiful to see the canyon in moonlight.

So a typical day went like this: You get up at 5, when it is still dark. You bandage up your feet, stuff your sleeping bag back into your ruck sack, grab an energy bar (and pain killers). This was called first breakfast. Everyone is in a hurry, lacing up shoes, packing up stuff. The camp is quiet... contemplating the day to come.
We start the earnest business of walking, even though it is still dark.

We have to get as much walking done, before the sun hits the canyon floor. Every kilometer walked in shade is a kilometer you will later be thankful for. Later on in the day the sun beats down on you with a hot fury of anything up to 40 degrees Celsius (maybe more?) .

As the sun creeps over the horizon you start hugging the shady sides of the canyon. We start walking criss-cross – seeking shadows wherever we go. The sun hits the canyon floor much later – the canyon sides shield you for quite a number of hours. Then, when there is no help for it, and the sun winkles you out of every corner, you find a bit of shade, and stop for the 2nd best time of the day – Second breakfast.

Everyone loves second breakfast By that time, you have walked out the aches from the previous day (or drank them away), and you have a bit more time. Out come little stoves. A real camaraderie reigns. If one boils water, he boils for as many people as his pot holds water. Another dishes out mugs for coffee and so it goes.

Strange thing with walking, the further you are along in the hike – the less you eat. Your body can function amazingly well on smaller rations. You realize that eating big meals slows you down and makes you tired.

In this time, you hear voices softly talking, but what shouts louder than the human sounds, is the sound of silence. You hear the wind blowing round corners, sometimes you hear rustle of sand over sand. Never forget that this is desert country.

It is beautiful in all it’s starkness. It is plain, and yet has the most beautiful little flowers growing. What looked dead and lifeless from atop, is beautiful down there.

Then we bid a sad farewell to this special time and start the hardest stretch of the day. The heat picks up and the sun beats down relentlessly. Even the most talkative amongst us (yes me!), become quiet as it become a battle of will and mind to continue. Water is taken from pools along the way.

One funny story about this. Jonathan was very careful to purify his water. But, we shared water, and only later did he find out that he had been drinking “unpurified” water from me. It is a toss up to decide – do you drink the water as is, and take your chances, or do you throw those awful purifying tablets in. Well, we didn't get sick - so I guess I chose right!

At some spots, the water just looks bad, you can tell. We even dug for water at one point because the pool water was just yuk.

The team has set points at which they stop. They are so experienced, they know exactly how far we need to reach by each day, and everything gets paced accordingly.

Lunch is a welcome break. We look for a tree, bush or any thing to give some shade from the blistering sun. Lunch is usually snacker bars, provitas and if you have the energy to boil water - then soup. Peanuts, raisins and chocolates are also eaten. Food down in the canyon - tastes delicious. We laughed at stories told by the hikers who went home, told their families to buy whatever food they had taken with on hike, only to find out - it really isn't that nice. Down there - everything is delicious!

After lunch – there is usually only a short trip to our camp. An hour or 2’s walk. Once there, everyone packs out. You get your things ready for the night – because everything is easier done in daylight. The guys play games – wow – where do they get the energy?

This is the very best time of the day. They start a fire and people sit around to chat. There is plenty of time to make supper - which we do in teams.
Ha - washing up will freak you out. You don't use soap - it pollutes the water. You wash your plates out with sand and water. Yep - tomorrow you eat out of them again. You are too tired to care!
Did I say I wanted to do this again?

The last thing you do, is climb into your sleeping bag. You fall asleep looking at the stars and the moon, and the long shadows cast by the canyon wall... yes - I think I would like to do this again!