Just an average Saturday in Norway

When I went to sleep last night it was snowing.  When I woke this morning it was still snowing.  Needing to do some shopping, I decided to wait for the snow to stop, before trudging down to the local supermarket.
With my backpack filled to the brim with school supplies for our house-building exercise with Grade 1, a pack of toilet rolls under my arm and my old lady shopping cart bursting at the seams with groceries and baking goodies for a school bake sale, I headed back home. 
How I cursed as I slipped and slid and dragged the objecting shopping cart through the dirty snow on the road.  Fresh snow and car tyres are an evil mix.  Pure white snow turns into filthy brown sludge.  It's a bit like walking in a caramel slushy.  Only it's not as sweet and you're not at the movies.
If I was an inventor, I would design 4 x 4 off road wheels for old lady shopping carts.
Light snow started falling as I arrived at the start of my road.  The snow on my road was white and fresh, unsullied by car tyres.  As I dragged my shopping cart up the incline, I heard the snow crunch under my supposedly non-slip boots.  My shopping cart was like dragging a dead body up the hill.  (Not that I know what dragging a dead body is like, but I have watched enough Homeland to have an idea.)  Why oh why did I buy the frozen fruit smoothie packs, the container of ice-cream, the cans of apple cider?  How was I going to get all of this up the stairs to my attic apartment?
I stopped to catch my breath, looked back at the grey lake covered in sheets of ice and small mounds of snow.  And then it hit me!
I am truly blessed.
I am heading to a warm apartment with all the creature comforts.  I have unlimited water.  I earn enough to buy whatever groceries I want at the shop.  I have children who love me.  I am safe.  I am not hiding from snipers or running from bombs raining down.  I have access to good medical care.  I have friends.  When there is so much hardship in the world, how dare I sulk over dragging a shopping cart through the snow.
Cindy Vine is the author of Hush Baby, Defective and Not Telling.  All her books are available on Amazon.com in both Kindle and Paperback format.

Woo hoo Cape Town!

After a hectic sports weekend with swimming gala and kiddie triathlon, last Monday saw us up at 3am to leave at 4am to get to the airport for our three flights to Cape Town.  Kilimanjaro to Nairobi, only a 45 minute flight and we saw amazing views of Mount Kilimanjaro rising above the clouds.  It really is a very very big mountain.  At Nairobi we boarded our flight at the stated time, ready for the next leg to Johannesburg.  Unfortunately, they had a problem with the air traffic controllers, so we had to wait on the runway in a queue for an hour and a half.  Luckily, the plane wasn't full so I could stretch out next to me and sleep for the period we were delayed.  Unfortunately, that meant that we were an hour and a half late getting into Johannesburg, so instead of grabbing a quick lunch at the airport Spur Steakhouse, we had 20 minutes to run from the International Arrival terminal to the Domestic Arrival Terminal.  Everybody said we wouldn't make it, but we did, arriving huffing and puffing, stinking with sweat, ready to board.  Of course, there was no way that they could remove our luggage from Air Kenya and load it onto Comair in 20 minutes, so we arrived in Cape Town without our luggage.  This is getting to be a bit of a habit for us.  My Mom took us shopping for clothes until our luggage arrived, so that was a bonus.  It did arrive the next day, we collected it and hired a car, a little KIA with enough boot space to hide a mouse and that's all.
Wednesday I saw the breast specialist and he found a problem with my 'healthy' left breast.  Two fine needle biopsies later, two mammograms, several ultrasounds and the results were still worringly inconclusive.  Seven years ago almost to the day, I went through all of this with the right breast, ending up with a diagnosis of two kinds of cancer and a tramflap mastectomy.  I'm not sure I can mentally and emotionally go through all of that again.  I do feel like hitting well-meaning people who tell me I'm strong and can handle it, when they weren't there the first time and never witnessed what it was like, and never experienced it themselves.  I've decided to wait until after Christmas for the core biopsy they want to do, where they remove some of the tissue.  With friends visiting, I don't want to ruin Christmas.

Yesterday, we explored the Cape Peninsula, and although I took them along Chapman's Peak because I know the scenery is stunning, I couldn't look at it myself.  For some reason, Chapman's Peak terrifies me, I keep feeling as if I'm going to drive over the edge.  It might be something to do with my fear of heights

Shopping, sight-seeing, splashing in the waves.  This is the life.  Until the money runs out. 
Sunday we had one of those eaarly family Christmas lunches, the ones you do when you have step-siblings.  Two families, you only can spend Christmas day with one of them.  It is hard.
Off to explore the wine route today!  Hic!
love
Cindy