When the world is going crazy around you...

Lazy Saturdays

So I'm chilling in the sofa messing around with the apps on my iPhone and I see that there's a Blogger app. Could it be possible that I can blog directly from my phone if the inspiration hits me?!? Well, this is the first attempt. Let's see if this thing works...

Happy New Year!!

Hey, everyone!
Happy New Year! I hope you had an absolute BLAST over the holidays. I'm happy to report that I had one of those holidays where I did absolutely nothing. There were a few little parties and outings here and there, but after the hectic year I've had, it was wonderful to spend quiet time in my new home, enjoying the space and spending quality time with my family and friends.
I thought I'd start the year of with something off my Wish List - chunky knit bed throws.
Oh my!
Could anything be more cosy, comfortable and sexy... in a weird, Wintery, I'm-staying-in-bed-with-my-man-all-day kinda way?
Here's one I've seen on 1kinddesign.com:



And this one's from whatnomints,com:



Beautiful!

Have yourself a Merry Little Christmas!

So tomorrow's my last morning at work before we shut down and go on our Christmas break.
And I just wanted to take the opportunity to wish you a peaceful, blessed Christmas and a sparkly New Year.

May it be everything you dreamed it would be!

xox

Nifty Idea!

Check out this awesome cell phone holder made from an empty lotion bottle.
Brilliant!
I'm always stepping on my cell phone / charger on the way to the loo in the middle of the night.
I'd love to make one of these, but I don't think I'll get it as neatly finished.
But you can try.
FInd out how here.

I don't know if I'll be making these again...

Don't get me wrong! They were sinfully delicious, but that was about the only PRO in a gargantuan series of CONS.

But I'm getting ahead of myself! Let me start from the beginning.

Some of you may know that every Christmas my book club has a little tradition of making 8 little homemade Christmas gifts to pass around the table at our year-end dinner. It's fabulous! You get to make a few simple, cost-effective little gifts and in return, you get back SEVEN awesome homemade gifts from the girls sitting around the table. The whole idea is to be as creative, fun and frugal as you can, while completely dazzling your girls with your awesomeness.

This year I took home:
A cute little basil plant in a lace / bead decorated tin (from Maria)
A bottle of homnemade, eco-friendly detergent and desk calendar (from Vanessa)
A silver sequined bag (from Lorraine)
A jar of homemade mango cordial (from Gail)
A jar of cookie mix (from Kate)
And a jar of pickled chilies (from Terri)

Sacha sadly wasn't there this time, so there were 6 gifts instead of the usual, rocking seven! Still! As you can see, we were spoilt rotten.

For my contribution to the gifts story, I decided to bake some chocolate cookies and bung them into a pretty duck-egg-blue coffee mug for each of the girls. Lovely idea, but in my laziness to find a "quick and easy" recipe, I accidentally ended up spending way more than I should have and it took absolute ages to make. The recipe was alarmingly finicky for one that involved a ready-mixed box cake mix. *wtf*

I wanted to call them "Carmen's Kitchen Sink Cookies" seeing as there was a load of chocolate in them in various forms, but a quick Google search revealed that that name was already taken. So I made up something silly on the day, that I now simply can't remember. They turned out like Baby Elephant Turds, so maybe I should call them that? Or Angel Turds, seeing as they look revolting but taste like absolute heaven.
*quick google search*
Argh! Also not good.

Let's just call them "Carmen's Never-Again Cookies"



Preheat the oven to 350F.

Mix together:
1 box of chocolate cake mix
125g melted butter
1 large egg
1 cup white choc chips
1 cup brown choc chips
5 Snickers bars chopped into ±1cm cubes.

Using a 1TBSP scoop, place slightly flattened balls of the mix ±5cm apart on a baking tray lined with a silicone cookie sheet and bake for 15mins. Makes ±4 dozen.

And this is what you end up with:



A box of turds.
Fucking delicious, but expensive, time-consuming turds.
Not for me thanks. Pass.

Look what's in the window at Dionwired this Christmas!

If anyone's wondering what to get me, that lime green smeg in the middle will do just nicely, thanks!
Any takers?
...
...
Anyone?!
...
...
I'll just wait to be surprised and find it under the tree on Christmas morning, m'kay? Yay!

HAH-zit! Goon-JAR-nee!

The South African ad that has me in STITCHES every time I see it!
How larny is your accent?

Wish List: Dreamy, airy bedroom

I'm not quite there yet... But I'm close!
This bedroom from Architizer captures the clean, minimalist yumminess I'd love to create in my bedroom.
I've got the wood floors and tons of white stuff. I've even got the weird angles, but I think what's missing is some light, white, gauzy curtains.
Soon! Budget permitting.

My handsome godchild

Three weeks ago my best friends Rachel and Nestor Martinez from Canada made my dream come true by bringing their son, my godchild Delwyn, to South Africa to meet me. This first pic is how he looked when he got off the plane. And the second one is how he looked three weeks later.



Is it just me or did he suddenly grow up from a little baby into a big boy in the space of 3 weeks?!
The best part of our holiday (apart from catching up and spending quality time together) was getting to see my country through the eyes of 2 foreigners. They had a good chuckle over a few things. We call traffic lights "robots". The Hyper By The Sea conjured up images of some kid going mad on the beach. Car guards...
When will I see them again?
Another 2 or 3 years from now?
I wonder what my godchild will be like when I meet him again.
In the meantime I made a little recording of the song that he played over and over on his baby laptop, so that I'll have something real to remember him by... Until we meet again.

You've guided me home, Umhlanga lighthouse!

If you're wondering where I been, fellow bloggers, let me just tell you that my life has been a whirlwind of change and adventure. I've done it! I've FINALLY done it.
Carmen Gabriel has finally bought her first home. A snazzy little 2 bedroom, 2 bathroom apartment in Durban's Umhlanga Rocks. Ninety seven square meters of concrete, glass and wood that belongs to me... Finally.
It's been a long journey getting here. More than 6 years of dreaming and hoping, not to mention the frantic search since the beginning of this year, when my landlords announced that they'd be selling.
Nothing went as smoothly as I thought it would:
- I sold my stove and wardrobes too soon, leaving me with tv dinners and clothing on the floor for 2 months
- Everything cost way more money than I'd budgeted on... maybe I just can't count good, doh!
- I STILL have boxes to unpack after 2 whole months of being in my new place
Argh...
But I wouldn't change it for the world!
It's a great feeling knowing I've accomplished this thing that I've worked so hard for. Sure, the bank owns me for the next couple of decades, but who cares?! This is what happiness feels like!

winter loves soup

Open letter to Clinique South Africa

Sent on 17 March. Still waiting for a response.

Clinique, SA:
I am writing to report a very disturbing incident at the Clinique counter at Gateway, Durban.
Several months ago (during the last Free Gift offer) I went into Truworths to purchase my Clinique moisturiser and face wash as I always do. While I was there I decided to ask the Clinique sales person to recommend a night cream for me so that I could start using one regularly. I am 36 years old and currently using the Super Defense range because I don't have any lines or blemishes whatsoever. The Clinique woman told me that Clinique did not make a night cream in the Super Defense age group and urged me to buy the Repair Wear night cream for much older wrinkled skin.
I went home and tried to use the product for over a month. But every time I put it on my skin it would burn and feel very painful and uncomfortable. I eventually stopped using it because I was worried that I was damaging my skin. My R450 was wasted and I had no idea of what damage I had possibly done to my face during the course of that month.
Imagine my HORROR today when I went into Truworths to buy my Clinique supplies and asked them if there WAS in fact a night cream in the Super Defense group. The Clinique woman handed me the tube telling me that there was one all along. Truworths had obviously been out of stock of the one I wanted last time so the Clinique woman deliberately sold me a damaging product so that she could make her sale and reach her target for the month.
IS THIS THE WAY CLINIQUE TREATS THEIR CUSTOMER OF ±15 YEARS???!!
Not only have I lost R450 on a product that I cannot use, but I have been steadily burning and damaging my skin for more than a month because of the damaging advice of a Clinique sales person.
I trust that you will contact me at your soonest regarding this report and will notify me of the action being taken to rectify the matter.
Carmen Gabriel

New Obsession

So, I've never really been one for gardening...
I've pretty sure that I've written once or three times about how my poor father used to beg / bribe / bully me and my brothers into helping him with our garden at The Old House. (I call it The Old House now because my parents have just bought a stunning new apartment in Umhlanga and will be moving in a few months.)
He never got it right... No matter how hard he tried, we would sit inside the cool, air conditioned living room, and watch him suffer through the glass patio doors. It just wasn't for us... All that dirt and sun, not the mention the threat of bugs and the odd garden snake. No thanks.
So imagine my surprise to find that, as I grow older, I suddenly seem to be craving plant life in my world. First the herb garden outside my kitchen window which, I must sadly add, I've kind of lost interest in. I have a few long-suffering curry leaf plants that refuse to give up, but the other herbs have pretty much kicked it for one reason or the other. Not all my fault, I swear.
Then came the micro-greens or linseed sprouts that I started to grow on my living room windowsill. All very cute and sweet until I grew tired of the taste of them in my salads and promptly stopped growing them. I might start again with some different seeds this time, maybe mung beans. I saw an interesting method of growing them in a glass jar on the net the other day that kind of interests me... It's part food, part science. I can dig that.
But now my new plant obsession is Peace Lilies or Spathiphyllum. My friend Noodle bought one for her desk a couple of months ago and I was hooked. It was love at first sight. Here's why:
- They have pretty white lilies that I find really cute.
- They are completely indoor plants that require no direct light.
- They let you know when they need to be watered... Bonus!
- They somehow absorb the negative rays that fly off your tv and computer monitor.
- And they pretty much do their own thing while you get on with your life.
I bought one for my desk that had just a single pretty lily on it. The lily is long gone and I've only since discovered that there are flowering types and foliage types. I think my desk one is a foliage Spathiphyllum. It's okay. At first I was a little bummed, but now I realise how lovely it is, even without the flowers and I've resigned myself to loving her regardless. I don't want her to develop some sort of inferiority complex because she can't deliver on my unrealistic expectations...
And the second one I've bought is this one for my home:



She arrived with tons of flowers on, some of which have gone now, but she still looks beautiful. I suspect that she may be more of the flowering variety, but again, I'll be happy with whatever happens. I've read somewhere that unscrupulous store people often pump the plants full of chemicals to make them flower and ultimately move off shelf. Once home, the plants start jonesing for more chemicals and then stop flowering unless you give them their fix. If anyone's going to be doing drugs at my place, it's going to be me... So there goes that idea Spathiphyllum!
We're just getting to know each other, my Peace Lilies and me, and I'm feeling really good about it.

Nostalgia

I have a small confession to make. One of the main reasons I've been DYING to cook dinner for my cousin Jarrod and his wife Nadia, is that I've been looking for a good excuse to cook up and share some of the Taiwanese / Chinese dishes I learned to make in my year there teaching English. See, Jarrod's ouma was Chinese, so I've been threatening to cook something authentic in honour of his heritage for AGES.
This Saturday, we finally got our shit together and had our little dinner party. Just the three of us.
Sadly, I wasn't quick enough to get a good picture of the potstickers and dipping sauce I made for our main course, but earlier in the day, while going about my business, I'd made this for myself:



A bowl of spicy beef noodle soup.
It's not the one that you simmer on the stove for hours and hours. Nope... This is just a simple instant noodle version with a few fresh ingredients thrown in. I had made a special trip to the Chinese grocer down the road to pick up a few things for our dinner, and when I saw these on the shelf, the nostalgia hit me like a ton of bricks and I had to have them!
It's 40degree heart in Durban right now, but nothing was going to stop me from slurping on these spicy noodles... Nothing. No way.



I almost feel like I need to make a very important point here about instant noodles. These are something that we've really misinterpreted and gotten horribly wrong here in "The West". To us, instant noodles are a shameful, gross, cheap thing that starving students pour down their throats to keep themselves alive while they're literally on the bones of their asses.
But in the East, instant noodles are something completely different.
Yes, they're still cheap, easy and the first choice of starving students... But in the East they have loads more flavour and there's a bunch of fresh stuff that's added to them to make them utterly mouthwatering. There, instant noodles are fun, flavoursome and always fashionable because the manufacturers are always looking for ways to innovate.
When it comes to the fresh "additions" there are fresh vegetables... I used a crisp bunch of bok choy but corn on the cob cut into big chunks is divine.
There's the meat. I used the most incredibly marbled piece of ribeye steak. The little globs of melting fat were like finding the most delicious jewels of bone marrow from time to time.
Then there are other things that I didn't bother with, because I didn't feel I needed them, like chewy little dumplings that you could bounce like a rubber ball, or those tiny dried fish with the eyeballs still on. They look like white noodles, until you bring them closer to your face on your chopsticks and discover that there are two beady black eyes on one end. They're salty and fishy... and at first I didn't "get it" but now I do. Yum.
I also know now, that you should never buy the cheapest instant noodles around. They're really not "all the same"! Invest in a pack of noodles that's a little more expensive than the rest, and you'll find that the seasonings inside are way better and more authentic and they taste less "synthetic".
I added even more flavour to the broth by searing my steak, removing from the pan, resting and slicing. Then using the juices in the resting plate and the water that I used to deglaze the pan to rehydrate the noodles in the bowl. So here it is...

Carmen's Spicy Beef Noodle Soup Made with Instant Noodles... Believe it!
Serves 2; Preparation time ±15 minutes.



2 Ribeye steaks (±2cm thick; brushed with a mixture of melted butter and sunflower oil on both sides)
1 pack of your favourite instant Chili Beef Noodles
2 Baby bok choys
Water to rehydrate

Heat a dry frying pan until smoking and sear the 2 steaks on either side for ±2minutes per side.
Season and remove the steaks from the frying pan and place on a plate to rest for ±6mins.
While the steaks are resting, break the block of noodles into 2 bowls, and carefully divide all the seasonings equally between the 2.
Wash and steam the bok choy and place on top of the dry noodles.
Once the steaks are rested, slice and place on top of the bok choy, deglaze the pan with some water, add the resting juices and pour into the bowls until everything is covered, - just peaking out of the broth.
In 3-4 minutes (after the noodles have fully rehydrated) you'll have the best soup... EVER!
Enjoy.

I can honestly say...

I have never been so in love before!
This, dear friends, is my very first post from my brand new MacBook Air.
I bought it! Yes, I did!
I could try to be all modest and coy about it but, quite frankly, what would be the point of that?
It's so sleek and sexy and beautifully AppleMac that you simply cannot try to be all modest about it.
It's the Ferrari of laptops... And I own it. Along with more than enough 3G internetty-goodness than I will EVER be able to use up from month to month.
This is the point where I "get real" with myself and give myself a quick, stiff kick in the pants.
For bloody AGES now I've been whining on and on about the fact that this was supposed to be my Big Tiger Year. As usual, I was totally up my own arse about shit that was so stupid and small and insignificant. Yet, AS USUAL, I failed to take into consideration that The Big Guy In The Sky (TBGITS) RARELY gives us things the way WE ask for them... I THOUGHT I wanted a certain thing... But my Goodness. I could not have been more WRONG about what I needed/wanted, or thought I loved.
Over this year TBGITS has cleared from my path all of the stumbling blocks that were put in my way and has blessed me with the life/things/people that I never dreamed I needed but now I know I could NEVER live without.
True friends who never forget every detail, even when I choose to block those pesky details out. Family bonds so rich and diverse, I don't have the brain capacity to take it all in. Things. THINGS like this new laptop and my new car and my new amazing career opportunity... We're always taught not to love THINGS because you may never have the ones you really want. The good ol' Christian "oh well, I guess it wasn't in God's plan for me to have this stuff..." story. But, my word, things are so nice and sometimes TBGITS actually WANTS to give them to you. Call me superficial... But then. You'd have to call yourself superficial too, because you know you want them too.
So now I'm finally off to bed after spending AGES messing around on my Mac.
It's Christmas Eve tomorrow and we'll be shutting down early and coming home to our families. But I won't be out of touch. If there's anything special I'd like to say, I'll do it immediately. I can now. The slick new love of my life will be here waiting to beam my stories directly to you.

WHA'? HEY?! Where am I??!

So... I've been at Paton Tupper for a week now and if you haven't heard from me, dear bloggers, it's because I've been busy APPLYING MYSELF! Finally... :)
I joke. I always apply myself, dummies.
I've just been putting my head down and getting into the vibe... Learning new ways of doing things.
I'm not gonna lie: It's been a long, tough year. November was just insane, trying to get as much done as possible at Public Address. And now we're in December, and Paton Tupper is still COOKING when it comes to the work flow. So, yeah. no rest for the wicked, as they say. I'm quite desperate for the holidays to get here.
To top things off, I've offered to help the kiddies at church with the Nativity play... WHAT WAS I THINKING?
Just to put you in the picture, this is how rehearsals went down a week ago: The Three Wise Men ripped the head off Baby Jesus and pulled all his stuffing out. And Angel Gabriel (who kindly sponsored her dolly to play Baby Jesus) had a total meltdown. There was one little girl who just ran, TOP SPEED and screaming on top of her voice, from one side of the stage to the other and back again. For 20 minutes.
Just running.
And screaming.
I never thought I'd want to punch a child before, but now that I know what I'm capable of feeling, maybe it's a good thing I haven't had kids. Yet.
We practiced for less than 15minutes and it was GAME OVER! I went home to my parents’ place, swallowed 2 painkillers and 2 tranquilizers, slept for 3 hours, got up and got dressed and went straight to the office to put in ±5hours worth of much needed overtime.
This week's rehearsals went better. Nobody got the stuffing kicked out of them this time, but we did discover that one of the shepherds is a farter and now the other kids won't sit next to him. *sigh*
ANYWAY!
That's what I've been preoccupied with for the past few weeks, so please be patient with me if I don't update the ol' bloggeroo as often as I'd like to. I'll get better at it, promise.

On my last day at Public Address, I was so teary and emotional, that I knew I wouldn't be able to deliver a sob-free farewell speech, so I decided to put it all into a loooooooooooooooong email that I sent out to the staff as I exited the building. I thought I'd share it with you, in case you were interested. There are some nice historical bits about how we got started as an agency, as well as some guru-like advice on how to be the best you can be in the hectic world of advertising. Now that I'm reading it again after a whole long week, I can't help but have a chuckle at how freakin' sanctimonious it is in parts. But, hey! I guess along with the good times came a lot of tough times, and I obviously had a message to deliver to those that just weren't / aren't delivering. I suppose I just got really tired of the stress of running a business, of "paddling my own canoe", especially when not all or us were steering the canoe in the same direction. Not to mention the lazy ones that weren’t paddling at all, happy to just catch a free boat ride to who-knows-where? And others still, who were sneakily drilling holes in the canoe while the rest of us were paddling for our lives! So, here it is, my Jerry Maguire Manifesto. Enjoy:

So... I guess this is the part where I write my big farewell letter.
I’ve been composing it in my brain for weeks now, trying to think of what to say, and then I burst into tears, drink a bottle of wine and watch the National Geographic channel ‘til 2am, hoping it will all just disappear.
Here goes.
It started with Malibu-and-cokes at the Riverside Hotel on one of the most surreal Saturday’s of my life.
When the agency I’d been busting my butt for decided to kick me in the butt, Nic and Wayne said: “Fuck ‘em! You deserve better. Join us.”
It was an offer I, quite frankly, couldn’t refuse: The opportunity to work with Durban’s hottest advertising powerhouse duo (Wayne and Nic) as well as one of the most talented designers I’ve ever met (Reino).
From humble beginnings, trekking from Reino’s home office to Nic’s home office and back again, not even having enough office chairs to sit on so we could work together comfortably, we’ve grown to be the amazing advertising agency that we are.

I guess I should really start by thanking the people who’ve believed in us and help us make it happen...
Starting with Our Folks.

Poor Paul and Bev Potterton (Wayne’s folks) kindly rented us a part of their home to set up our first office. To thank them, we:

* Cursed and swore loudly amongst ourselves while they held their church meetings a mere 4meters away
* Ran over one dog
* Left the gate open so another dog could run away
* Fed yet another dog the “treat” of a bone that could have shattered in his tummy and put him in an early grave
* Constantly left our dirty dishes in their sink
* Steadily bored a series of holes in their new wooden floors with our designer heels
* Pissed off all the neighbours by RACING up and down the street (late for our meetings as always) to the point that Paul was getting death threats from some grumpy old dude down the street
* Invaded their privacy to the point that they could no longer take a romantic skinny dip in their own swimming pool for fear of us charging in at the most arb/obscure hours to work on something
* Played our “devil music” so loud, the devil himself could hear it clearly in the fiery pits of hell


The dogs farted.
Our clients farted.
Our suppliers fainted...
It was a circus!

We were really sad to leave Timavo, but I’m sure I heard champagne and celebration from inside Paul and Bev’s room.
All they got out of the deal was a huge amount owing on the rent and great big clumps of double-sided tape on the floors where we had tried to glue our fancy rug to the floor.
(WTF? Why did we try to glue the rug to the floor? What were we THINKING???!!)

Anyway!
So then we moved into the offices we’re in now.

I’ll never forget that first proud night, after we’d swept and dusted and arranged the desks and put all the new groceries into the kitchen cupboards...
Slowly everyone started to go home, and eventually it just Eric (my dad), Geraldine (my mom), Wayne and myself left behind.
And we got BLIND drunk. Blackout drunk. “Pee-in-your-pants-’cos-you-can’t-get-them-off-fast-enough” drunk.
The last thing I remember was curling up on the cold concrete floor in the middle of the studio (there were no chairs yet), trying to get some sleep. Eish.
The four of us refused to go home. We just kept talking and planning and dreaming about how AMAZING our agency was going to be...
Good times.

And I guess now would be a good time to thank my own folks for supporting and believing in the four partners, even though they’ve seen my ass in diapers, seen Reino and Wayne’s drunk asses at parties and... Hey! I guess Nic’s the only one who’s managed to maintain his dignity on the ass-bearing front. Or was I just not there that day?

Mom and dad:
Thanks for leaving your long-standing jobs at Ogilvy and TBWA (“That-Place-From-Whence-We-Ran-Screaming”) and taking a huge risk on us.
Thanks for dipping into your hard-earned retirement stash to help us pay salaries in the tough months.
Thanks for the leftover curries and for being the un-official Entertainment Committee, spoiling us CONSTANTLY, much to the detriment of my ever-expanding waistline.
Thanks for the expertise, knowledge and experience you’ve brought to our young agency.

In fact, now that I think about it... We’d been steadily bringing in new accounts and growing, but one of our earliest big breaks came from you, Mom. Remember?
My cousin phoned mom when she was still at Ogilvy to ask if she could recommend a good agency who could pitch on his business. She told him that I had just joined an incredible company called Public Address and gave him our number. We went on to win the ICESA pitch and the rest, as they say, is history.
It was a tough account. (Honestly? What account ISN’T?) But it was one of the big ones that helped us grow... Exponentially!
Thanks, Mom. Keep counting those beans. Every one of them matters in today’s tough economic climate!

A great, big thanks goes to each and every one of you who’s been on this journey with us. With me.
God help us, it’s been tough at times.
But we’ve never lost our sense of humour, our love of music, our determination, and we’ve never missed an opportunity to make fun of each other and ourselves!

I suppose this opportunity also calls for some “sage-like” advice from me to you, to make sure that our little agency continues to grow from strength to strength to become “The Biggest Ad Agency In Durban” as we’d drunkenly vowed that night we moved into Holwood Park. And to impart some of the wisdom I’ve acquired during my years so far in this ugly, cut-throat industry.

So, let me channel Mike Myers in The Guru and help you with some stuff, “you can’t face”:

1. Keep your eye on the prize and keep the silly games for the playground.
Far too many people in the agencies I’ve worked at have wasted valuable brain-space on plotting their next sneaky corporate move. You’ll find it gets you nowhere in the long run because everyone sees through you and the games eventually. Use that brain-space to think up new, innovative ways to make more money for the agency and, in turn, yourself.

2. Just be a good guy, for fucksake! It’s not hard to do.
Be honest and upfront with everyone you deal with. That way, you don’t have to waste valuable time trying to remember which lie goes where.
Have integrity. There’s a powerful saying that goes: “If you don’t stand for something, you’ll fall for anything.”

3. If it’s a CAREER you’re after, use what’s between your ears and not what’s between your legs.
People who try to sleep their way to the top unfortunately never get further than the middle. Every single job (NOT blow jobs!) that lands on your desk, no matter how small, provides a valuable opportunity to prove your worth and to flex your brainpower. If you’re a writer, there’s ALWAYS a better word/phrase/way-to-say-it. So, take the time to craft your work. That goes for designers too. And for crying out loud, designers – LEARN HOW TO SPELL! (Just kidding! You know I love you. xox) Client Service team, remember that every brief you send out is not just an instruction to the studio; it’s a reflection of how YOU see YOURSELF as a professional. A brief that’s typed up poorly and simply “shat out”, sends the message that you don’t have the confidence or know-how to do better.
I believe in all of you... MAKE ME PROUD!

4. Never forget that your reputation precedes you in everything that you do!
This next bit might sound like I’m tooting my own horn a bit, but every word is true: I have never applied for a job. Ever.
Every job I’ve had in my career has been because somebody, somewhere needed a writer, heard about me and called me in to “have a chat”. Nobody’s perfect... EXPECIALLY NOT LITTLE OLD ME! But, just be the best you can be and people will see spot your passion from miles away.

5. Never forget to smile. It’s weird, but people seem to like that...
I’ll never forget when I was working in Taiwan we were told that the Chinese are big on “saving-face”. They never show negative emotions in public, and will often smile even when they’re telling you to go fuck yourself. It’s strange, but somehow you felt better going off to fuck yourself knowing that the instruction was delivered with a smile. *shrug*

6. Read more books... Seriously!

I guess all that’s left, is for me to say goodbye to my three boys. My brothers. My partners in all sorts of crime!
Wayne, Nic and Rein, I wrote this stuff in my letter of resignation to you a month ago but I think it’s worth reiterating:

Wayne - Your entrepreneurial spirit and courage have inspired me to take more risks in life, and to stop waiting in the shadows for something to fall my way. While my two brothers are off in Jhb chasing fame and fortune, you have been a true brother to me. I cannot imagine my days without our chats...
Reino - People come to work to make a living. It’s a rare bonus for one to come to work and to still make real friends along the way. You have become a friend that I will take along my life’s journey, no matter what.
And Nic - How do I begin to say goodbye? Your integrity is one of the cornerstones that this company had been built on. It’s no empty compliment when I say that, of every Creative Director I’ve ever worked with, none have come close to your creative and strategic mind. I have learnt so much from you, and I know that you still have so much more to teach that I will be missing out on. Even though I will be able to pay my bills now, my life will be poorer for not having you in the office next door every day.

My years at Public Address have been the best of my career. I’ve learnt so much. I’ve grown as a professional, a creative, copywriter and leader. I’ve learned to finally take ownership of the jobs that land on my desk and to work, to the best of my ability, to deliver creative that is relevant, quirky and that cuts through the clutter.
Please send me regular updates with pics of the kids... I will miss my little family so much. It kills me that I’m not going to see the little ones as often as I’d like. They’re my babies too!

So cheers, Lords of Roxtown...

See you on the dance floor!

All my love,
Carmen.

So, here's what's been happening...

Right!
Where do I start?
Maybe a good start would be with a small apology to my loyal readers for not updating my blog as often as I should. Both of you (see previous post) were pretty peeved! *snort*
But I’m hoping to make it up to you with loads of juicy gossip, tasteless innuendo (in-YOUR-end-oh!) and tons of graphic updates of my life that you can live vicariously through… When those kinds of things happen. All I can say in my defense is that, so much has been going on in the life of Carmy Gabriel, that I really haven’t had much of a moment to myself to put it all on paper. Just between the three of us, I just got royally kak-ed on for not doing something, that someone thought I should’ve done, when they didn’t know that I had done it already ages ago… Blah, blah blah!
But I’m getting ahead of myself. Take a few steps back, Gabriel, and tell it like it is.
Since my folks’ scary hijacking a lot has happened in our lives… The first major thing I guess, is that I bought my very FIRST car out the box. My old VW Polo was about 3 years old when I bought her, and she was the love of my life. But it’s been a big ol’ dream of mine to own a brand new car, one that’s never been driven by anyone else before… One that smells of new leather and car polish. Yum! As it happens, by folks finally got paid out by the insurance people and were looking for a car to replace the stolen one. My brother owns a Renault, one of those super sporty ones (2 door, V6, only 15 of them in the country), and has been telling us for AGES that they’re the best cars around. So, when the folks saw an ad in the paper for a special offer on the new Renault Logan they decided to go in for a test drive. Me, being the nosy bitch that I am, simply had to tag along to see what the car was all about. Little did I know that I’d be signing on the dotted line for my own silver one the very next day. Here’s my new baby:



Check out the specs here friends.

I’ve called him The Wolverine… (Logan? Silver like the blades? Geddit?)
He’s a lot more “grown up” than the kind of car I’m used to (sedan vs hatchback) and I wasn’t planning on buying a new car until next year some time. But it was such an awesome deal and such incredible performance / bang for your buck (as you can see from the specs) that I really couldn’t resist. To sweeten the deal, the amazing folks at Renault even threw in the cream leather interior. Finally! My brand new car, out the brand new box, with the brand new smell of leather!
He runs like a freakin’ wild wolf in a freakin’ crazy forest with a freakin’ insane GROWL ripping out of his freakin’ chest! RRRROOOOOWWWWRRRR!
Ok… Maybe he’s a little tamer than that. He’s a lover not a fighter, my Wolverine, but don’t you ever back this baby into a corner. He’ll rip your head off if he has to! :)
Let’s see… What happened next?
I had a birthday. If it wasn’t for my cousins Jarrod and Nadia, my brothers’ expensive taste and for the book clubs girls, it would have been just another shitty birthday. Jazz and Nadia spoiled me rotten with about 2 tons of sushi and several gallons of white wine. My brothers bought me a very fancy camera because they know how trigger-happy I can get when “the light is right”. And the girls bought me the most amazing gifts. They know me well! There wasn’t a single thing I’d exchange or not use. Everything was perfect.
Oh! Then my folks decided to renew their wedding vows at our church when their new wedding rings arrived from the jeweller / insurance people. Thirty seven years together and they STILL wanted to make it official. Again! It was very sweet. There wasn’t a dry eye in the church that day as they stood at the altar to take their vows. Mom had pale lemon orchids in her wedding bouquet 37 years ago, so they were the logical choice for the flowers she would wear in her hair this time around. Dad wore one his coat lapel. I was emotional but tired, the super sweet smell of the 100 cupcakes I’d baked and decorated the night before still stinging my nose and clinging to my skin. Mom ordered hundreds of pale cream petit fours as the “wedding cake”. We piled them onto my grandmother’s 3-tiered cake stand, a priceless family heirloom that now resides with Proud Me. It was a wonderful morning of smiles and happy tears and promises of forever and champagne and family and friends and sore feet and laughing kiddies and sugary icing everywhere including my hair… It was several weeks ago already and it’s still the hot topic of conversation when we get together over Sunday lunch.







I was richly rewarded for my efforts on the day (and my support through the tough time of the hijacking)… Even though I insisted that they didn’t, my incredible mom and dad treated me to a stunning smoky topaz cocktail ring and used their jewellery connections to get me a great deal on another little diamond treat I’ve had my eye on for ages. So, yes, I’m both a nosy bitch AND a spoilt bitch. But then we all knew that already. Moving on.
Then what? Erm…
Little Baby Tannah had her blessing last week and I was her parents’ choice to lead the day’s formalities. She’s a lot bigger now than she was in the invitation pics, so here’s a pic of her at Grandpa’s house with the cutest little pink bow in her hair…




Lorraine and Robin must’ve been in the ultimate, prime Karma Sutra position on that fateful night to produce a child this cute. I’m going to have to ask them for some tips if/when it’s my turn. Her grandpa showed me one of his baby pics when I was there for the blessing and… wow! I never knew that kind of cloning was possible. She is the IMAGE of her Gramps. Too cute.
And finally… I’ve saved the biggest news for last!
On the 1st November I handed in my letter of resignation to my three other partners at Public Address. The amazing folks over at Paton Tupper have made me a wonderful offer that I simply couldn’t refuse. For those of you who know me well, you’ll know that this was a bitter-sweet change for me, saying goodbye to the agency that I’ve helped build from the ground up. We’ve come through some seriously tough times together and partied our asses off together during the good times, so the three boys (Wayne, Nic and Rein) have become brothers to me. I’ve learnt so much and grown so much as a writer, professional, leader, advertising creative, woman and friend, that even the tough times could never be wrenched from my tightly-clenched grubby paws.
But I felt like the time had come for a new set of challenges and a new beginning for Carmy Gabriel. I leave behind my family at Public Address (literally – my mom and dad still work there!) and some of the most amazing friends I’ve made in my lifetime… But then, have I really left them behind if they’re literally just up the road from the new place (like, 2kms away) and they’ll always be in my heart? Forever.
Incidentally... If you've been paying attention, this is why I was getting kak-ed on earlier. I've promised the Public Address guys I'll get as much of my work done as possible before I leave, but I guess I hadn't realised how much I'd have to take care of. Yikes. I'm getting there!
Paton Tupper, here’s to new friendships and even more stuff to build from the ground up. I’m scared, nervous and excited all at the same time. I feel like I have a lot to prove to show the new guys that I’m worth every penny they’re investing in me. Just the other night I had a nightmare that it was my first day there and the building had moved and I got completely late and lost trying to find it. When I eventually found the building I parked on the wrong end and had to walk for miles before I found where I’d be sitting. And yes, when I looked down, I wasn’t wearing any pants. (*sonofabitch*) It was one of THOSE dreams! I’m 36 and I still get nervous about the first day of school, hey?!
Here’s to new amazing beginnings for me! Maybe my Year of the Tiger has turned out to be amazing beyond my wildest dreams after all…
:)

OKAY, OKAY!!

I get it!
I've been really bad with the blogging.
Here's what Nadia had to say a few weeks ago:



Dry. Short. To the point...

And here's Terri's latest edition of "Life's Biggest Annoyances":



Same basic message, but a little more elaborate in execution.

The slap on the wrist has been accepted. I've sat on the naughty chair and thought about my bad behaviour and now I'm ready to make amends.
Amazingness to follow!

What's going on with world today?

In a completely unexpected twist to The Everyday, my parents were robbed at gunpoint in their home a few nights ago. Here’s the story…
Every-so-often, at the end of a hard day, my mom, dad and I decide that we’ve “had enough” and “we deserve to treat ourselves” to a special restaurant dinner. In truth, more often than not, we’re really just in the mood for something other than the usual grilled-chicken-breast-and-green-salad that I torture myself with every night, and the-breyani-that-just-won’t-go-away that my parents torture themselves with every night. (Breyani is the kind of dish you cook to feed a family of ten, or a wedding reception of five hundred. If you cook a SMALL breyani on a Sunday, you can expect to eat it for at least a week. *groan*)
So on Tuesday, we went off to the Cape Fish Market for a sushi / bento box / whatever-the-special-is dinner. Whenever we’re together we have a good time, my mom, dad and I. We drank wine. We debated what makes a good fish soup. I treated them to their first ever Original Martini. (My parents don’t usually do cocktails, so this was special.) And we talked for ages about how sad it was that Elvis died the way he did. (Martini = Elvis = WTF happened to Elvis??!)
Eventually, reluctantly, we said our goodbyes and went our separate ways.
Being the crime-plagued South Africans that we are, we’ve made it our tradition that we call each other the moment we get home to make sure that everyone’s safe. Seeing as I’m just four minutes from the restaurant, I thought I’d give them some time to get home (±20mins) and called Rockstar. He’d been trying to call and I was completely oblivious, scoffing tuna and swilling martinis at the restaurant. We chatted for a bit and said our goodbyes, and after a while I realised that my folks hadn’t called. (“Maybe they’d stopped for petrol or bread for their lunches the next day. I’d give them the benefit of the doubt! Don’t I HATE it when the immediately assume that I’m dead if I don’t call them in 10 minutes, flat?”)
Never in a million years did I think that my phone would ring (an unknown number) and my mom’s neighbour would hand her phone to my dad to tell me that they’d been robbed at gunpoint in our family home as they arrived from the restaurant.
My mind went blank. I thought about “the long drive” from my house to theirs. I could hear the neighbours talking to the cops in the background and imagined how I’d be getting in the way. I couldn’t make the mind leap from “oops” to “WTF”. It all seemed inconvenient, surreal, unnecessarily unfair…
Unfair on me.
It was my brothers, a million miles away, who shocked me to my senses over the phone and made me get behind the wheel and drive to them.
Their street was full of cars when I got there. The electronic gate wasn’t working when I hit the remote. A cop told me that the security company had pulled it off the rails so that they could get in. The neighbours stood in dark corners with serious looks on their faces, some of those faces not instantly recognisable after years of ignoring each other in the street over stupid petty shit. I looked up in the poor lighting, saw dad and said hello. When he came into view, it was his brother. My godfather, looking drawn and pale. And the whole time the disbelief turned to fear one heartbeat at a time.
I saw my mom first… We gave each other our special wry-smile-look; the one that says: *sigh* Can you believe this shit? I’m so tired. Please tell me I don’t look crap. My makeup wore off an hour ago. Who are all these people in my house? I hope there’s good toilet paper in the toilet and not the recycled single-ply crappy stuff we use just for us…
And then I saw my dad. His hair was all crazy. He was talking to the cops. His hearing’s not so good so, along with the trauma, his answers were coming out all wrong, disconnected and confused.
We figured out that two armed men had followed my folks into the yard, creeping behind the car in the dark shadows as they drove in from the restaurant. They hid in a corner while my dad disarmed the security system and my mom headed for the kitchen light switch, and by the time she turned around, the gun was in her face and a hand was over her mouth.
The two armed men threw them to the ground in my old room, making them lay, face down, yelling at mom and dad not to look at them the whole time. They hit dad in the back of the head with the gun a few times and made sure to punctuate every question/demand with a sharp kick to the ribs.
Dad whispered to mom to stay calm. She has a heart thing and he was worried. He tried to touch her hand to calm her, but she was scared that the robbers might interpret the touch as a secret signal of some kind and shoot them. She pulled her hand away. She shook her head and made him comply.
The fluffy rug made dad’s chest close up so he asked if he could sit up, or turn his face in another direction. They said no. There were more kicks to the ribs.
They interrogated dad about the valuables, and with his bad hearing, he couldn’t answer them. Mom answered and they kicked her in the leg for having “a big mouth”. They called her a bitch. They made her give up the pin numbers to the cards in her bag, while the gun was at her head. They went through her handbag, carefully going over her salary slips, but missing dad’s firearm license, a clear indication that there was another gun in the house that they could have used / taken with them.
They took the:
Tv
Surround sound
Speakers
Dvd player
Food processor
Crap floral dinner service we hated
Cup / saucer set (we also never used / hated)
Iron
Microwave
Kettle (Emptied it out, leaving a trail of water behind them… Hey?)
Credit cards
Cash (±R5000)
Jewelry (what little was left after the last burglary ±2 years ago)
… All piled into my dad’s car so that they could take that too.
As we look around, we keep finding other things they took along the way.
It was only the next day that we realised dad’s hearing aids (worth ±R12 000) were in the car’s glove compartment. He only used them at work, so he’d stored them in the cubby after hours…
The horror and devastation that comes with realising that you might have lost your parents in such a tragic way is something that truly shakes you to the core… as a daughter, child, sister, sibling.
But if I had to name the one MATERIAL thing that was taken and that cuts me to the core, it would have to be my parents’ wedding rings. Not my dad so much, because he often took his off and played with it, twirling it between his fingers like a coin and accidentally dropping it on the floor.
My mother’s wedding ring is a different story all together.
She was a skinny waif of a girl at 21, when she married my dad. Three children and 37 years later, when the robber jabbed at her finger with the gun to give it up, she wasn’t sure that she PHYSICALLY COULD take the ring off. It had bonded itself to her now curvy, 60-year-old body. It was a part of her, skin, flesh and bone. But every time she tells the story, she thanks The Blessed Mary / Her Guardian Angel for slipping it off her finger “like butter”.
To the naked eye, it was just a simple wedding ring. A plain gold band with 3 tiny diamonds in an old 70s style. Nothing special to look at.
It wasn’t worth a great deal of cash money, but to me its sentimental value is incomprehensible.
It was a solid, sturdy ring – a symbol of their strong love and bond that has been tested but has stood the test of time.
And of those 3 tiny diamonds, only 2 remained. The third was lost in one of my mother’s many sessions at the outside wash trough, washing our cotton nappies by hand. Not because she was trying to be a martyr of some kind, or to spare a buck or two, or because she gave 2 hoots about the environment, but because she simply wanted nothing less than crisp, clean, snow-white cotton nappies for her babies. Only the best.
I don’t think that the person wearing that ring right now is very happy with the old, out-dated style and missing diamond. Her boyfriend could not love her very much to steal such a piece of crap for her, right? And I am sure that with every breath she takes her arm grows heavier and heavier with the weight of that ring. The weight of all those memories. The weight of the symbolism and what that ring represents.
It may look like a broken old piece of crap from the 70s, but that style is a tribute to the decade that my parents were married in… a tribute to the decade that I was born in.
That missing diamond is a symbol of the hard work, the physical sacrifices that my mother made to make my brothers and me the incredible people that we are today.
That strong, sturdy design is a metaphor for my parents’ marriage that has stood the test of time.
As a 35 year old single woman, that ring has represented The Dream… Every time I looked at it, I saw two young people, deeply in love, pledging to stick with each other and support each other through thick and thin, no matter what. It’s almost like it’s the missing piece of bone that would make that left hand whole. And I guess that’s why, at 35, I’m not married yet. My parents have set the bar far too high.
I’ve seen perfection and I won’t settle for second best.
Could it be that in Africa today, life is cheap? With people dropping like flies from poverty, crime and AIDS, people here have “bigger things” to worry about? When we’re being told to rape infants so we’ll be cured from AIDS, could it be that stealing actual/material “things” have come to mean nothing in the grand scheme of things? That’s why we can take someone’s wedding ring today and think nothing of it. It’s meaningless when we’ll all be dead from AIDS / poverty / crime tomorrow, right?
Shame on you, Africa.
Shame on you.
Those animals took the rings, but they couldn’t take the caring, married hands that touched and consoled and calmed each other with true and lasting love in a time of extreme violence and pain.
You lost.
We won.

Shame.
On.
You.