On Sabbatical

Alas, Alack

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Alas, alack! On Sabbatical in Sandton is NOT one of the 10 finalists in the SA Blog Awards' Best New Blog category – or any other category, for that matter. So all of you who meant to nominate me but didn't…feel the guilt. Feel it wash all over you… From my side, I will be wallowing in disappointment alongside a pool in Mauritius next week. The Husband has decided it is the only way to cheer me up.

Just kidding. I wish.

No, we are off to this fair island because he is riding in yet another cycle race – another cycle race disguised as a holiday. Although, this time, I intend to go on a concerted Strike de Soigneuse. After all, I am a Saffer – striking should be in my blood. I'll be silently picketing at the pool behind my dark glasses, my book and my margarita and The Husband can go off and do as many little circles around the island as his heart desires.

To celebrate the arrival of Spring, I took myself off to a Zumba class this morning. Admittedly, I have not shaken my tush to those sexy Brazilian beats in a long time. Normally, I am intimidated by a classroom full of hot chicks who really can move their little backsides to the beat of the music. But that's the beauty of being on sabbatical – it was just me and a bunch of middle-aged housewives, WAY past their prime. Thank God. So we all looked a bit like "white-chicks-can't-dance" – because, let's face it, we generally can't. The hilarious part is that the instructor had a beer boep the size of a Jabulani soccer ball. (In fact, I think that may be an understatement.) But boy, could he dance! Just goes to show…

Anyway, thanks to my class-mates, I came out of there feeling like Shakira (but with more clothes on) and ready to take on this beautiful Spring day in Jozi.

Hope the traffic doesn't suck too much and you make it home in time for a sun-downer on your balcony!

On Sabbatical

Just Another Monday on Sabbatical in Sandton

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First of all, thanks to everyone who nominated this blog for the SA Blog Awards 2010. I have been stalking the Awards site to see if On Sabbatical in Sandton has made it through to the next round. I hope the organisers can't trace the hits directly back to me with some clever, techie thingie… But then, those Awards people probably are the clever, techie types, so they probably can trace me and they probably can tell just how desperate I am…

Nonetheless, thanks for your nominations. Unfortunately, I am not tech savvy enough to trace all of you who rudely did not nominate me, but if I were, I would hunt you down and de-friend you on Facebook.

Secondly, a special shout-out has to go to The Mother Figure for her nomination. A dial-up connection, a 40-minute long distance phone-call and a detailed lesson in "right-clicky", "copy" and "pasty" later…and her nomination was cast. May it tip the scales, Ma!

Finally, if there's good news to share on these Awards, I promise to brag about it all over this blog. If not, I will definitely be whining about it all over this blog. Either way – you'll know.

On another note, it sure is good to be back in Jozi. And just in time for what appears to be the start of Spring. I'm presently soaking up the sunshine in the courtyard of Tasha's, getting my Freezocino fix. I'm also trying not to stare at a 50-something year old whose face has been very unjustly attacked by a bottle of self-tan.

I'm not succeeding.

Plus the chocolate-brown and beige hues of her Weapon of Massclusivity (her Louis Vuitton clutch, of course) are reflecting against the orange tones of her face, making her look even more icky-orange than usual.

Ooh, I've just been distracted by my favourite hair-do. The two-tone affair: blonde on top and jet-black on the bottom. Now apparently in Sandton, as well as Delmas. Like the Crocs trend, I confess that I have never quite understood the two-tone trend. What part of looking like a sheep-dog appeals, exactly? Or do these people sit in the hairdresser's chair, going, "Blonde? Black? Blonde? Black? Ah, fag it, I'll just do both."

Enough people-watching for now. I'm off to take The Husband's blazer to the dry cleaners – it was assaulted by a bottle of Jagermeister on Friday night – much to The Husband's surprise the morning after.

Just another Monday on sabbatical in Sandton. Good to be home.