Marshmallows & Merlot

and then we're good to go. I am like a kid at Christmas – seriously excited about the official launch of my latest adventure into the blogosphere. For the past month I have been up to my keyboard in trend forecasts, furniture catalogues and interior design website URLs, scouring cyberspace for bits and pieces of content for  The Furnishing Touch .  I love a trend, I love great design and although I'm not an Interior Designer I am an artist which means that I have a keen eye for colour, composition and well-executed mediums... so, providing almost daily content for a fabulous blog, backed by an even more fabulous brand is the kind of work that doesn't feel like work. In short, I am one happy Social Media addict – getting to talk about Twitter and Facebook and blogging as a legitimate part of my day job is a cyberdream come true.  It's my mission to translate the trends for our readers, breaking down the fancy shmancy industry jargon into bite-sized chunks that you don&

This coming Sunday I am being baptised... I will stand in front of a church full of people and publicly declare my commitment to the Lord, and His will for my life. I will literally take the plunge. This is out of character for two reasons...  Firstly, this Sandton girl usually avoids getting wet, especially on days when the locks have been straightened and the eyeliner freshly applied, and secondly, I don't do public speaking... Not out of a lack of confidence or a fear of crowds, but rather due to the fact that my unreliable vocal cords always hint at the possibility of a verbal traffic jam. My stutter isn't as constant a companion as it was in my younger years but it still likes to pop up and remind me that it's there once in a while. Reading the previous paragraph back to myself, I realise how silly I sound, but aren't we all a bit silly? Don't we all make excuses instead of just confessing what we're afraid of? Instead of just handing our fear over... T

I have been cheating on my blog. Yes, it's true... the reason that a tumble weed has been blowing through this blog for the past week or so, like a scene from an old Western movie, is that I have branched out into a different part of the blogosphere.  Blogging it would seem has become my day job (doing a mental happy dance as I type this) with a new little adventure called The Furnishing Touch. Now, while we don't formally launch until March, I have decided that you, my valued readers (I really do love you guys!) deserve a little sneak peak... so click away:  You're welcome   An introduction to The Furnishing Touch. Got a thing for pink?  You've gotta love a colour called 'Honeysuckle'! Translating the trends  Cos those 'experts' do use rather big words... The upside of upcycling   The alternative to hugging a tree... Work from home? It's time to do your homework   Live it up! Your living room will thank you    four trends, for you...  What's co

I always knew that my first trip to soccer city, the opening game of the 2010 soccer world cup, would be a tough act to follow. I figured that it'd be many years until I felt anything remotely similar to the surge of emotion brought on by Tshabalala's goal... The first of the tournament. Well, on Sunday night among 100,000 U2 fans (under a blanket of African sky, in the heart of Soweto) an unexpected rendition of Amazing Grace came pretty darn close to topping my first experience of the calabash. After a visual feast that left me speechless at times, live performances that had me shouting well known choruses at the top of my lungs, and particularly poignant footage of one of Madiba's speeches, I was doubtful that the show could get any better... It was too good, too slick, too mindblowingly impressive and about as dynamic as a live show can get. And then, seemingly out of nowhere, all the bells and whistles were silenced, all the flashy imagery dissolved and the stadi

Standing in front of my wardrobe this morning, freshly washed hair tightly wrapped up in a towel turban, I faced the age old question of 'what to wear?'... But today's answer had more than usual riding on it. There is a fine line between looking like you've made an effort and looking like you are trying waaaay to hard, and striking the balance is easier said than done. For a day full of big meetings, two of which looked at odds next to one another in my diary (one being all fashion and fabulous, and the all bottom line business) I needed an outfit that could easily look as appropriate on corporate barbie as it could on fashion barbie. Alas! This is not a scene out of 'The Devil wears prada' and there is no Stanley Tucci character to escort me into a sample close full of designer label possibilities, so, my wardrobe would have to do...

I just got a mini taste of how working moms must feel... A) leaving their baby, all big eyed and 'please don't go, mommy' at home while they rush off, laptop bag in hand to the office; and B) coming home to a hyperactive, super clingy little creature who is sooooooo happy that you came back. The only difference is that I am pretty sure working moms (ones with real, human children) don't come home to a sprinkler of pee... Thankfully, children have nappies to catch a little excited leakage. Sadly, puppies do not. I arrived home just now (after having to leave our new puppy alone for eight hours) to a phenomenon that is equal parts icky and impressive. My pooch was spinning around like an over zealous ballerina while simultaneously emptying her bladder... The result was a steady sprinkler-like stream of golden pee spinning around my kitchen. Not even my loyal following of The Dog Whisperer prepared me for it.

Madiba spent his life fighting for it and Americans rocked it and put a first lady with serious style onto the world stage... I'm talking about The Vote. The little ink cross that makes a big difference. The ever-fabulous Drill Sergeant, as responsible a running partner as she is a South African citizen, just peeked out from the super chic Chinese paper fan she was fluttering around her perfectly coifed head, to remind me to REGISTER TO VOTE THIS WEEKEND for the municipal elections. I have been living under a rock where deadlines breed mould, and seem to have missed this VERY IMPORTANT piece of info (yes, I am blushing while I type this)... And if I have missed it then maybe you have, or maybe you haven't missed it but you're contemplating going for that much needed pedicure instead of queueing to do your Civic DUTY. Doll, the toes can wait...

For the first time in pretty much my entire twenty-something life, I have put a gag order on the control freak within and spread the love. The not so starving artist has realised that it's all well and good to be putting steaks in the fridge but if there is simply not a spare minute in the day to eat one's tender juicy fillet with an ice cold sauvignon blank, then, well, what's the point? Which brings me to today's big news and the reason that I actually have a chunk of time to blog about it... This morning I let o of the reins (just a little... Baby steps...) and delegated. I have only just tasted the sweetness of knowing that, not only am I keeping my 'as fragile as a meringue from Tasha's' sanity, but the job is getting done.