So today I tried my hand at sewing [how difficult can it be?]. All I had to do was shorten the straps of a dress that keep falling off the shoulder. I failed [miserably]. This is where my mother will purse her lips and tell me that it’s my own fault; I should have learned to sew when I had the chance. This is also where I wish she were here so she could just do it for me.
Javol, we can’t all be brilliant at everything.
I did recently discover, though, two things which I am not bad at all, and another which I am terrible at but bloody-minded enough to pursue again as soon as the means make themselves available. The first is swinging in treetops. It took place in the lovely Tsitsikamma Forest in the Eastern Cape, where the philosophe and I went galavanting to continue the celebration that began with our unforgettable wedding. Tree-top swinging is righteous. Go do it.
The second is ten-pin bowling. I have a vague memory of trying it once before, but I was basically a newbie, and after scoring [/fluking] three strikes in two games, I was hooked. I think I finally get The Big Lebowski.
The bowling happened at the very wild and wicked Wild Coast Sun, that den of all things bad, and fun fun fun. And that’s where the last thing comes in, because the bowling is really there to keep the kiddies happy, along with go-carts and all the arcade games big boys miss from their youth. Grown-ups play with real money, and I found that I excelled at making a lot of it disappear in a very short space of time.
Fortunately my “a lot” is really the kind of money the MVGs [Most Valued Guests] tip the people that keep them plied with free drinks. Still, I intend to win it all back one day.
In the meantime I’ll stay far away from needles and threads, and stick to what I know I can do well. And not forget to keep remembering the thing I have done best of all, which is choosing who to grow old with.