Marshmallows & Merlot

'Gone fishing' sign ... this blogger/copywriter/basket case if off to the land of koalas and boomerangs and hats with corks dangling from the brim. It's been two years in the making, but tomorrow at 16h00 the 'reunion tour' becomes a reality as I board a non-stop flight from Jozi to Perth. From tomorrow until 12 December I will be blackberry- and Macbook-free, which means I will have no choice but to shirk my blogging/twittering/facebook stalking duties. Looking forward to having lots to blog about when I get back!

and not paying attention , it seems that my freelancing thing morphed into a proper little business. Somewhere between having the luxury of grocery shopping at 3pm on a Tuesday afternoon and finding myself working 'til 7pm at my own little office in Rosebank, I went from a lady of leisure with the occasional work commitment, to a workaholic with the occasional social engagement.  Need evidence? As I type this, there is a pink Post It paper-clipped onto a file at eye level reminding me to fetch two friends tonight at 19h00 so that we can go out for a 'drinks and sushi' that's been in the diary for weeks. I had to write it down... three months ago I may have forgotten to collect the dry cleaning or book a wax, but I would never have forgotten an excuse for having sushi and vino mid-week. My how things have changed... 

if you're a duck. Before I begin my 'drowned rat' rant let me just point out that I do appreciate the rain, I know its good for farmers and pot plants and burrowing deep underneath a fluffy duvet. I get that lots of lovely wet stuff falling from the sky is a blessing, really I do, it's just that today I was geared up for a warm, dry, sunny 25ºC degree weather – had I known better I would have worn Wellies not Woolies flip-flop inspired flats. I'd like to point out that as I was huffing and puffing my way up one of Sunninghill's nasty little inclines this morning (convinced that I was about to cough up a lung), it did not look like a flood was imminent. Okay, it was stupid o' clock in the morning and I'm not sure today hadn't actually been out of bed long enough to decide what it was going to do with this fine Tuesday, but still... I feel like I was sold down the river (literally). Maybe you've had a rough start to the week, maybe your sense of

all shapes and size s. Sometimes it's in the form of a spotty 13-year old boy not asking you to slowdance at your first school disco, sometimes it's losing that grandparent who made you feel like the most precious thing since Barbie found Ken, and sometimes, heartbreak comes in the form of a nine-month old, 4-kilogram pavement special puppy called Ellie. This time last week I experienced a new brand of heartbreak, the kind I had never experienced before and would rather not (although it's probably inevitable that I will) experience again. Last Monday, Ellie 'Bean' Winderley – my friend, my companion and my Vitamin Water bottle-chewing, cheese-addicted shadow – set off on an adventure that was to be her last in my world. The details are not important... many tears have been shed wondering 'why?' and wishing that life had a rewind button. What is important is that out of even the crappiest situations there are opportunities to learn... I know I sound a little