Summer time blues and Avos

I went to buy some avocados today from the family in the van alongside the road. You have got to love Summer. Steaming hot weather, dogs running for shady spots, melted tar stuck to the bottom of sandals. Oh yes, and yummy avocados. Anyhow, the family was sitting in the shade with all the windows of the van open and boxes of their fruit on sale. And the price was right. Now I am in a quandary, do I share or do I not? To be generous or not to be that is the question. My Dad loved avos but couldn't eat them. Thank goodness I have not inherited that particular gene. What a tragedy that would be.

So, apart from drooling over avos and sweating in the heat, I went to the swimming pool with the grandkids on Monday. Five hours where they ran and jumped, and played and swam non-stop. I was watching my five-year-old granddaughter jump in the pool, holding her nose so that water would not enter. A little friend of hers looked over and thought he too should hold his nose as he jumped. So, nose holding and then running to the edge and jumping. But this little man had no idea that you should continue to hold his nose until he resurfaced. He let it go midair and happily submerged himself. I do wonder if in years to come he will continue this habit? No, I am sure one of his siblings will advise him of the stupidity of what he is doing ... or maybe a friend? I was standing next to the pool on Grandma duty of making sure my granddaughter did not hit her head on the side of the pool when she did a particularly splashy jump and I was wet from head to toe. One of the mothers in the pool looked up and saw me dripping happily. And she asked if I minded being splashed. I said, 'No, it's water and it's hot, so, no.' She smiled sweetly and then splashed me herself. I thought of this young mother (she has six children) and was glad that she could still be a bit silly at times. I think we all need a bit of silly in our lives.

Two of the older grandkids decided that they would brave the diving boards. Yes, there was a lifeguard on duty, but still, another set of eyes never goes amiss. They climbed up the ladder and jumped unceremoniously ... and again, and again until I was dizzy with their antics. I remember a certain diving board in my hometown of Empangeni, where we would climb up the ladders and try our hand at diving. Knees together, arms over our ears and almost fall forwards. The higher you went, the deeper you dove and the more the air was forced out of your lungs. It was no use fighting to reach the surface or even panicking; you had to allow yourself to relax and float to the top. That gulp of air as you broke the surface was divine. A flick of your hair out of your face and swimming back to the side of the pool to do it all again. I must have been the same age as my grandkids, but I felt so much older. I thought I would one day be so good at diving that I might compete in the Olympics. No folks, I never did reach that standard of excellence. I did play underwater hockey for a season in that same pool. Now that was an education in itself. I am glad that the grandkids are making their own forever memories of swimming pools in Summer.

A friend gave me a jigsaw puzzle for Christmas. How do you do jigsaws? Firstly, I find the edge pieces. And when I find the four corners, it is time for a bit of a celebration. I never get all the straight-edged pieces the first time I sort through them all and someone once told me to turn the puzzle pieces upside down and then the colours and patterns don't distract you. I have tried both and am still about a dozen straight edges short. There are moments when you are sure a piece should fit into another and as you force the two together, you suddenly realise that they don't fit. It is an exercise in patience and concentration. I assemble a few pieces that fit and then leave the cluster in the centre of the square, then try to assemble another cluster. I have seen people who work jigsaws from the outside in, but not me. I am a glutton for punishment. A little bit here and another bit there and before you know it, the picture appears. Very satisfying. When I sold my previous home, I gave all my puzzles to the old aged home in town and hope they are enjoying them. I once went to a doctor's rooms where they had a table with a puzzle laid out ready to be solved. And over the few weeks that I attended that practice, I did spend the time that I was waiting, slowly adding my pieces. I have seen the same in hospital waiting rooms and even the physio. I never saw any of them finished, and yet I felt involved in a greater work of good. Instead of watching the clock and complaining about the time wasted, I happily sorted and found and fitted. Maybe that is like life? We don't see our contribution to the whole, but we carry on working day by day.

I looked at an altar cloth one day and thought that it represents families. Each person is a stitch in the fabric. Every person who disconnects from the family leaves a hole that from a distance is glaringly obvious. Okay, I am becoming pensive. I apologise. A few of my school friends and a family member died over the holidays and I suppose it feels like they have all left a hole in my life in some way. My jigsaw feels incomplete without them.

I have been listening to a self-help guru recently. Many years ago I went to one of those 'Dream it and it will become reality' guys in Richards Bay, Zululand. My cousin, David Mason was with me and he embraced the whole concept. David would spend the lunch breaks telling me I could do it too. That as children he had always considered that I would be the success out of our little group. I went home and told my husband what we had learned and he laughed and said, 'So, if I sit on the lawn and dream that I have a million dollars in gold, that it will appear in front of me without me doing a thing?' Well, no. Obviously not. But this recent self-help person has made me a believer again. Not the idea of sitting and doing nothing and getting rich stuff, but more that we control what we become by who we think we are. We all have those inner voices telling us we cannot achieve something or other. I am useless at tennis, says my inner voice. What should I reply? 'Yup, absolutely useless. Don't even bother trying again.' Well, just a moment there. What would I say to my child in a similar situation? I would say, 'You can do it. Let me practice with you for a while. We can hit the ball against the garage wall until you get better.' So, why don't I say things like that to myself? Why do I beat myself up over something someone said when I was a child?

I once dated a handsome young man named Mike. At a party one night, I overheard him talking to a friend about me. 'Do you like Pat?' asked the friend. 'Oh yes, she has a lovely figure and a nice personality. Sadly her butter face lets her down.' I frowned slightly and listened closer. The friend asked what he meant and Mike replied, 'Everything is lovely about her but her face lets her down.' Hence the But Her Face crack. No, I did not continue dating young Mike. And soon afterwards found out that he was not only cheating on me with another two girls in town, yes two. I was the Monday date, and the other two girls were Tuesday and Wednesday dates. Thursday was boys' night out and Friday he went home to his fiance. Yup, he was a keeper, that one. Not. Every time I looked in the mirror after that I would remember his comment and feel awful. Why did I allow him to invade my mind like that? Heck, who knows why we absorb the negative things in life and ignore the positive. Maybe a psychologist can explain it. Anyhow from now on I will stop my Butter Face self from dwelling on things and say things like 'No, that is incorrect. Stop putting yourself down. Believe in yourself and chin up.' Thank you David, it only took me thirty years to listen to your advice and (wo)man up. Butter I will never be a successful writer or artist ... or mother or grandmother. Stop, that is not right. You are an inspiration to others, you are not a failure. Butter I have no time to do A, B or C. Yes, you can if you prioritize them instead of spending hours trying to solve a jigsaw puzzle.

Oh go away, The puzzle is quiet time, where my negative demon brain stops hassling me and allows me to discover small successes in finding puzzle pieces. Now when I look in the mirror I don't say to myself, Look at all those wrinkles, that gray hair and that flabby skin ... no, I say, take off the glasses and you will look just fine. No, really, all good things take time, and it is baby steps for me at the moment. Loving myself has never been easy. And believing that others could even start to love me back is even harder. No, don't feel sorry for me. Blame the demon voice in my head. I have decided that 2021 is the year I take a whip to my demon and subdue it. Perhaps tame it and turn it into a soft fluffy kitten? Who knows?