Down by the sea…

Ahhhhhh. Jacobsbaai was nice. Really nice. A good bit of fun, sun, sleep, settlers, r/c, walks and family time. Just what the doctor ordered. Despite a miserable drive out of CT-traffic, the weekend seemed to slow – characteristically west-coast time – as we spent the first night trying to introduce the senior R-G’s to Settlers. Jan took the game with flair and finesse, and we collapsed to sleep.

Saturday was spent lazily, with the Wild Dagger leaving it’s mark on the nearby terrain. Kite flying, frisbee-flipping, an afternoon braai, a walk down a beautiful beach, some earnest scorpion hunting (after discovering a few large guys in the path) and a magnificent sunset almost completed a perfect day. What was missing you ask? The game of Settlers that we played of course! Some concepts appeared to have taken root, but it was well after midnight before I claimed by victory. Unfortunately, I haven’t yet pulled all the photos of the kites, scorpions etc off the video, but they will follow shortly.

Sunday was a slow clean-up, and then a lunch in Langebaan, before visiting the Geelbek reserve to see the flowers. Just since two weeks ago they’ve improved, and are simply spectacular. All in all, a really wonderful weekend with (almost all of) my family – too bad Adin is lurking in Edinburgh.

Off again!

I cannot wait. We’re (soon to be) on our way back up the West Coast for the weekend. We shall be calm. Relaxed. On holiday. I cannot wait!

Jamie’s sixth month

A few of the same type here, but who’s counting. Simon appears courtesy of The Oosthuizens (aka “The Settlers”)

Tleep Sraining

After coping with interrupted, insufficient sleep for the past 5 months, Janet and I decided that it was time Jamie slept through the nights. Instead of these bizarre, random-event feeds which could take place anytime between midnight and 4am, we wanted order and rest.

The idea is simple in theory, hard in practice: Assure baby is well fed. When baby wakes up, attend to and comfort, but don’t feed. Gradually stretch the comforts out until baby falls asleep again, and in time, baby will stop waking up because baby doesn’t get fed. QED.

Make no mistake, this is all done very scientifically and according to the experts, knowing that he’s not hungry at that time. All this is to accomplish is to unlearn a (in our books) bad habit.

And so we started on Friday. It was crap! But he eventually fell asleep. Smiles and sunshine on Saturday morning confirmed no abnormal hunger, and he still seemed to like us. We were shattered with sleep deprivation and guilt, but more determined to get this to work. And so again on Saturday night: Far less misery and fairly quick to fall asleep again. Hmmm. We chanced a hopeful wink to each other that this might be working. And again on Sunday night. Very late wakeup, and only 2 mins before he fell asleep again. Could it be? And yes it could be: Monday night he didn’t wake at all, in fact slept 30 mins beyond the time we’d expect him to wake. Still happy. Still smiling. Still loves us. Hoorah! Chance or not? NOT! He slept through again, as did grateful, excited parents.

It was darn miserable at the time, and we felt like real buggers, but the proof is there that the feed was unnecessary, and he’s still full of beans and growing great. Don’t know if I’d have thought it up, but hat’s off to whoever did. Sleep Training is surely worth the misery of 3-4 nights.

Up, up and Hooray!

Well, for one thing – Sunday had the most awesome weather. For another thing, I snuck down to The Ganglands (aka Muggers walk) and flew the heli. In my downtime (which is quite often nowadays) I have to content myself with flying the simulator on the PC, and here’s the thing: it SUCKS compared to really flying. I’d forgotten how brilliant it feels to have the sun on my neck, blades chopping the air in front of me, methanol fumes billowing into my eyes, and then launching the-real-deal into a frenzied ascent. Throwing it around at the top. Streaking it past at breakneck speed. Gently sitting it down at my feet.

It’s days like these that remind me why I sold my kidney and bought into R/C helicopters!

Silk Rememories

Yay, a weekend away! I took Monday off, so spent the morning packing and showing my domestic, Lindiwe, the art of folding t-shirts. She was greatly impressed, and gave me a funny look.

Jan took the opportunity for a last Monday Moms at Canal Walk, since she’ll be at work (dread) the next time it runs. We left for Brittania Bay at about 4pm, having jiggered Jamie’s feeding schedule up completely. We jiggered our own feeding schedules too by buying the most heavenly farm-bread at the start of our journey. Restraint was exercised.

It was dark and cold arriving, so no West-Coast flowers were seen, but our by-now familiar hostess was warmly welcoming and we were treated to a delicious home-cooked meal – mussel and mushroom soup, followed by a roast, a bredie, veggies and a snacks-tray. And some very nice Red.

Tuesday started – as tradition dictates – with a large breakfast. Jan and I promptly set off for a walk to ease our Collective Cholesterol Conscience. This little holiday was also the subject of a movie, so at all times the camera was rolling on this, that and the next thing. Haven’t checked footage yet, but expect it to be fun.

As an aside, Jamie has been extremely funny the last few days. We suspect he’s teething, so he’s had his index finger in his mouth the entire time. Even when feeding him solids or whatever, he’s got this half-open mouth and a pink finger! Shame, and I think he got his first dose of sun while watching the Wild Dagger driving the beach – rookie parents forgot to suncream his face. Although it didn’t take long to clear, so maybe we’re off the hook!

Supper was ultimately the highlight, and was our usual visit to Shelley Point’s Cattle Baron, on the far side of the bay. Annually, I’ve indulged in the finest Chateaubriand, and this year I convinced my wife to join me. It was superb as always, and the evening away from Jamie was a welcome treat. We relaxed, safe in the knowledge that Lucille (our B&B host) would call if he peeped.

And peeped he apparently had. Loudly. For a while. Eventually, she had put one of Jan’s shirts into the cot, and he turned his lights off again. Cunning for a first-timer. Lucille, I’m pleased you had a good story to tell your friends!

Anyway, today, Wednesday is Jan and my four year anniversary. It’s an amazing thought, but I wouldn’t change anything for the world. We lurked in the morning, repeated our breakfast fix, and set off around lunch time for Langebaan, via Jakobsbaai. We’ll be holidaying there with my folks in two weeks, so that’s gonna be fun. The flowers were really pretty, and rounded off a really nice holiday.

The perils of pink

Well, I decided that to satisfy the eccentric dress code of Vere’s 21st, I’d borrow my colleagues pink jersey. I’m not saying anything specific about the colour pink, but it’s not me, so therefore it fits the theme. Donning a really big-collar cream shirt, a smart black suit, Jan’s fluffy pink scarf and some seriously big hair sorta rounded the whole thing off, and off we all went to the party. My observations follow as cautionary tales…

Rule 1. Know where you’re headed
When dressed strangely, plan ahead. Do not be caught in situations where questions like “Um, where is the 21st” need to be asked.
Rule 2. Remain calm when ordering drinks at the bar
When dressed in pink, it is important to look determined and unswayed as you order your wife’s ‘light’ beverages.
Rule 3. Remove all evidence of pink prior to a pitstop
Under no circumstance visit the Brass Bell loo in pink. I cannot imagine what might happen.

Anyway, these perils aside, we had quite a laugh. I ended up videoing most of the evening for Balckman, and the footage was fun. Speeches were really great, and it was heartening hearing all the positive things said about my brother. Captains don’t cry, but I was proud.

And I guess the food was pretty good too, despite ordering what must have been a starter portion as a main. Two slivers of trout with cucumber didn’t quite level with the quad-portion burgers which my table-neighbours ordered. Sigh. Damn jersey.

Sunday was spent editing and recovering, rounded off with the Hungarian F1. Great race. Hilarious commentry.

Dactyloscopic X-Man?

Allow me to share an interesting and long standing situation in my life: Part of my job requires periodic evaluation of biometric (fingerprint) identification readers. It’s not something I find particularly stimulating, but I play an absolutely vital role in our ability to test these units. So vital in fact, that my fingers are always required – carrying a weighty responsibility to determine the product’s viability.

You see… I obviously have virtual fingerprints. To the naked human eye, they appear to exist. I mean, glancing down at my fingertips, I could be forgiven for thinking that I had a unique identity by virtue of some rather feint but nevertheless existant dermal papillae. Science assures us that with the aid of just one fingerprint (or even a portion thereof), anyone in the world can be distinctly identified.

Unfortunately, to the 21st century’s technological electronic eye, my fingers appear blank. Largely at any rate. Countless devices have passed our in-house tests quite admirably, doing a decent job of discerning one colleague from another. My fingers arrive however, and we’re suddenly talking about 1 in 10 accuracy, or worse, or mistaken identity, or… you know… “You’re a freak, you could be robbing banks?!”

Which has led me to wonder whether I’ll need to when our hallowed financial institutions begin to roll-out the promised biometric anti-fraud systems which will all rely on my having a fingerprint. Sorry… I mean a machine-readable fingerprint.
Am I concerned? Um, yeah… a little!
Am I little disturbed by the fact that even my South African Drivers Licence shows the words NO PRINT where my fingerprint would be. Um… yeah, that’s unusual?!
So is all of this doubt and anonymity taking a toll on my emotional wellbeing and quest for individuality. Well, honestly… no, but that would be pretty lame… right?

As a last thought, we received a new unit to test last week, and surprise, surprise, it actually appeared to work. It would recognise me. It would say “Hello Captain Awesome” when I presented my prints. It knew me! My confidence soared, my mood buoyed, and the world seemed once again to be at my fingertips. Until it rejected me more than 20 times in a row earlier today.

Ah well… back to the bank-robbing-drawing-board then.

To infinity and beyond

I’m overclocking. Finally, the sceptic in me has thrown caution to the wind, and I’ve tweaked my intel. So far, so good. Not speed-of-light stuff, but it’s an extra little burst. Also fiddling with graphics speed now, since that’s also tweakable. We’ll have to see how that works out…

Lighty the mighty

Er. Anyone still reading this blog? Just wondering…

I watched Cars last night. Yes, the movie. Kinda makes you wonder when you’ll stop being able to tell the diffs between real cinematography and rendered versions. Anyway, I had a good laugh, and remembered why I love PIXAR. I think the two Italians were classic…

Our weekend was exhausting but fun. The usual. We managed to play Settlers all three evenings, and introduced another three people. Tonight will be another U2 evening, and in between all of this I’m doing the very last touches to the long-awaited Jamie-Boy-Birth video. Should be up tomorrow?

Then, I guess it’s past-tense already, but my little baby-brother has his 21st birthday party this weekend. It’s a bit strange, since on the one hand he’s been all ‘adult’ for many years, but still – “lighty the mighty”… 21?! I’m also speeching, so with that preparation comes all sorts of nostalgia and childhood memories. Sadly hazy, but all good. Luckily Brother #2 has already sent his speech down from the UK, so if I’m really battling with my long-term memory, I’ll just plagiarise his!

With that, I say PEACE OUT. Hope to have pics and video tomorrow.