MissLeonie.com

My parents have returned from their holiday, bearing cool gifts. We’re not quite sure what it is for, exactly, but it’s all natural and it smells good. There is soap, a piece of dried corn cob, a stick type of thing, a coin made of clay and a bit of natural sponge. And did I mention the smell? Delicious. If you know what this is for, and what the bottom globe-thing is made of, please drop me a line. My best bet is stick slices, which really isn’t a great bet at all.

This also means I didn’t have to cycle to work today. Since the stormy weather has all but moved on, that was a really good thing. When we got to our first stop, my job, the car stuttered onto the parking area. Then all the lights went off. Dad was pretty relaxed about it all, he seemed to find it quite funny even. It’s a good thing my dad has just got back from a holiday. Just saying. Anyway, we pushed the car into a parking space and dad walked to work. Because he had to drop me off at mine. The irony isn’t lost on my tired mind.

On the way back, the car gave up oncemore when we were first in line at the traffic lights. Right as they turned green. I’m pretty sure I’ve never jumped out of a car quite that quickly. I’m also pretty sure I’ve never pushed a car wearing high heels before. The heels were on me. Not the car. Although I’m sure she would have loved them as much as I do.

The car blacked out once more. Once it got going again, dad and I swore at any and all people in our way. We should probably apologise, except to that horrid woman who jumped the queue. I know she was yelling at us too, so that makes it OK. No really, I know. I could see her tonsils.

Dad reckons he knows what’s wrong with the car. Basically, two things on the battery don’t always connect fully. That was my explanation. He said, “No, it’s …” and then followed up with the exact seem explanation, only in non-layman speak. I think we can all conclude that two things on the battery don’t quite connect.

When we were home, a car in front of us pulled over. A little mobile phone came snooping out of the window. The drivers had spotted the spectacular sky on our left. There was a giant white fluffy cloud, as fluffy as my brain on a Monday morning, with sunrays piercing through it, all the way to earth. It was awesome, but I can’t show you, cause I didn’t have my camera on me.

I did take this picture an hour ago or so, though. Enjoy. I uploaded a whole batch of photos to the Flickr a few days ago, so you may want to check that out too.

Despite being incredibly busy, I’ve managed to take a few photos. There is no excuse for not snapping a picture of a gorgeous evening sky when the camera is right there. I’ve cursed myself for not having it with me on the way to work a few times. I saw hares playing tag; horses doing some morning biting and kicking and magpies finding shelter on the bicycle path under the trees, sitting as still as they could in order not to be noticed.

However, as much as I would have liked to show you photos of these morning scenes, I can’t. I can’t bring my camera, because I only just have enough time to cycle to work each morning. It’s a really nice ride most of the time, though. I think there’s a lesson in there somewhere, one about enjoying the moment and not using it to make memories.

Work is still really good. My boss was at another business location today. She had originally planned to come in for the afternoon, but she was stuck by midday, so she rang us to see how we were doing. I briefed her on how I was getting on with work, and then she asked me if I was still enjoying everything.

Now, the thought of working full time has filled me with dread on more than one occasion. I figured, if this is what grown ups do? Being grown up totally sucks. I really thought I was going to dread the next forty-odd years, and that the best plan of action was to be a stay at home mum or something.

I will always be thankful for this job opportunity. It’s shown me how fun work can be. How it can be mind-numbingly boring at times, but still great fun. I get on with my workmates like a house on fire. Two new people joined the squad after I did, so I’m not the new kid anymore. We’re all messing around, having a laugh. I’ve learnt that an office job suits me much better than having to plaster a smile on my face for mindless costumers all day. There were times when I worked at a bookshop and had to bite my tongue not to ask stupid costumers if they should be at this desk at all, cause given the level of intelligence they were exuding, I doubted they could read, and we had picture books in the back.

Lists of product numbers that lead to product files that need one little field changed are boring, but I’m never bored at work. There is constant entertainment from 8:15 to 17:00.

And at the end of the work day, I get back on my bike to cycle home. It’s a good way to wind down and get a bit of exercise. I didn’t love it so much yesterday, when I cycled back through the rain, wearing jeans and a top. I didn’t love it so much the day after I took the picture on the left. I should have known it would rain - the sky is only that red if there is lots of water in the atmosphere. I think it’s got something to do with water breaking the light a certain way. I took the picture on the right this evening. It was taken right after another storm. You see, the weather has been tempestuous like it’s that time of the month for Mother Earth.

Thunder followed lightning so quickly that I didn’t dare cycle home this afternoon. A lovely workmate gave me a ride to the bus station, where I hopped on a bus. I kept doubting whether I shouldn’t just tough it out, stop being a pussy, and cycle home. I’ve just been reading so much about people being struck by lightning. I’ve been reading warnings about finding shelter if thunder and lightning are fewer than ten seconds apart. I didn’t want to risk it. And I thought I had my free-student-travelling card with me. How wrong I was.

Of course, the sky cleared up on my way home, and by the time I was strolling back from the bus stop, all that was left of the storm was a sunny evening sky luring all animals out of their hiding spots. I was beating myself up internally when I met a fat and/or pregnant cat with the most extraordinary fur pattern. She was black with speckles of bright red. And she loooved being stroked and scratched in all the right places. Once I got back up to walk home, she kept following me. It was almost like she was sent to comfort me and take my mind of my worrying. And it worked.

PS. I know I haven’t been posting as much as before. Although I hope I will have more time and energy to update once my parents get back (tonight-ish), even if I don’t, I’ll say one thing: I will keep updating this thing at least once a week. So there.

I started my job on Tuesday morning. Since then, I’ve been too knackered to post. I work at a nut producs company, and I love it. The job is fantastic, my workmates are hilarious, but I just wish I weren’t so tired.

I get up at 7 in the morning, get on my bike at 7:35 and get to work at about 8:10, just in time for our 8:15 start. Then I get off at 5 and cycle home.

It really is a lot of fun, but you’ll have to bear with me, posts wise, until my parents return from their holiday. You see, when I get home after work, I have to shop for dinner and cook and clean and do laundry too, and it’s a bit much.

So much even, that I forget to do such vital things as watering my mum’s plants. (Don’t worry, mum, only the first few days and they’ve recovered quite well!) The rose I was given by my uni on graduation day has died, as has the pink rose from our garden that mum stuck in with it after it had snapped from the plant. The pink rose has dried up really nice, though, so I’ll leave you with that.

I’ve been a bit blue these past few days, so in an attempt to cheer myself up, I have been cutting… lavender from our garden. (Hee.) You see, being outside, preferably in the sunlight, is supposed to lift your spirits. In addition, calming effects have attributed to lavender for centuries.

We have several lavender plants all over the garden, from various backgrounds. I made sure that each of my eight bunches came from one plant only. The differences in colour, flowers and smell are amazing, considering I would normally shove them all under the header “lavender.”

Most of these plants have grown from baby lavender plants we have taken home from holiday sites. As a consequence, we have French, Spanish and Italian lavender. I remember a holiday, years ago, where we went for a drive in the evening one day, just as all the surrounding lavender fields had been harvested. The air wrapped around us like a lavender blanket. Even though I was a child pretending to go rafting on airbeds down the river then, the smell still takes me right back: I can hear the crickets, I can feel the hot air, I can see the orange skies.

I’ve had the house to myself for about four days now. I’ve always thought of myself as a bit of a loner: I enjoy being on my own, doing things at my pace. Perhaps I have the perfect personality to be a writer after all: my creative writing teacher once told us that good writers are gregarious loners. I like being on my own, I really do. I’m starting a new job on Tuesday, though, and I’m horribly nervous, and I hate that there’s no one to talk these silly worries out of my head.

The theme of today’s desperate attempts to stay a sane human being is balance. I will now reheat yesterday’s enchiladas in a most balanced manner, after which I will eat them with a pile of books on my head. For the extra balance. Obviously.

There has been a terrible storm in New South Wales, Australia. The Central Coast and Hunter Valley have been hit by what is described as the worst storm in thirty years. A family of five were killed when the road gave way in front of their car. A ferry dock has sunk in the Sydney Harbour. Nine people have died so far. It’s awful.

The next morning, the Dutch newspapers were talking about the chaos the storm of the previous day and night had caused. We had 10 minutes of rain in total out in my little corner of the Netherlands, of course. You see, to the Netherlands’ economical centre, the Randstad, which is made up of the four big cities of Amsterdam, Rotterdam, The Hague and Utrecht, anything after Utrecht is Germany.

This afternoon however, it started to rain in an endless stream of big drops as the sky turned a mustardy yellow. I saw a rainbow that was heavier on red than any of the other colours it contained. It was swallowed by the dark grey that marched into the yellow sky. The sky rumbled as if God was clearing his throat. If God were a chain smoker.

As the lightning repeated itself with a speed that could cause epileptic seisures, I remembered the windows upstairs were still ajar. I’d wanted to air out the bedrooms this morning, when cooler air finally came our way. The day warmed back up, until right after dinner time.

I took the photo from my sister’s bedroom window. I would have been able to take a better photo using the tripod and opening the window, but I was too much of a chicken. Afro hair would not look good on me. Diamonds are overrated: cameras are a girl’s best friend.

Part of my responsibilities while my parents are away on holiday is to ensure that the vegetable garden survives. I am not the most blessed gardener, but I know that I should water things after the sun’s gone down, and pick strawberries when they’re nice and red, before they go off and turn into a purple mush.

I didn’t remember until it was quite dark last night, so this morning, I set out to do some fruit picking. It took forever, and the bowl I’d taken outside with me turned out not to be big enough. Then the bowl in the kitchen I emptied that one into wasn’t big enough either. I weighed the total amount of strawberries, and by picking only the very dark red ones (barring the little stray white one in the photo), I had picked 768 grammes of strawberries. I have no idea how I will eat all that. If anyone has any great strawberry recipes, please contact me. There are many more strawberries to come.

On the upside, a little bit of research has told me these are full of vitamin C, as well as antioxidants. They are even healthier because they are local produce (very local, in fact), meaning they were picked when ripe, not in advance to be sent halfway across the world. In addition, these strawberries don’t even know what chemicals ARE. Combined with my new strict suncreen regime, I should look 2 years younger by the time my parents get back.

I came across this perfume a little while ago. I immediately wanted to have it. First, I love the idea of trying to bottle the smell of happy. In addition, the scent appealed to me instantly. It is warm, without being heavy. Fresh, without the toilet freshener echoes. It was simply perfect for me.

A few days before then, I dropped the bottle of perfume Liam had bought me in Australia. It is the female version of his Christmas gift. I wanted to wear it on graduation day, so I had taken it into the car, and put it in the door after use. When I went to get it, the bottle somehow slipped from the bottom of the box, and hit the tiles of our driveway with a noise that ripped through my heart. I completely lost it, though I had the presense of mind to pick up the bottle immediately. The glass was fractured, but still in one piece. I could feel the perfume running over my hands though, and I panicked. I owe my parents a big thank you for helping me save as much of it as possible. A bottom corner had chipped off. My dad held the bottle upside down, my mum grabbed a tupperware container from the kitchen, before she ran upstairs to rince out the bottle of an old Mother’s Day present. Dad most carefully poured the perfume into the cleaned and dried bottle. All in all, not too much was lost, except for my mother’s new pants. I felt so bad.

The way they responded was wonderful. I was crying as my dad asked, “Was it a present?” I managed to nod and he asked, “Is it from someone special?” I sniffled that it was from Liam, and dad simply gave me a hug. It was touching to see that they recognised this was very important to me, and did their absolute best to soften the blow.

Fast forward to a few days later. I had a job interview lined up today. I was nervous, but I promised to reward myself with this perfume afterwards. If I got the job, I would be happy and it would be suitable, if I didn’t, the perfume should help me get over it. I had to cycle there, and as I had no idea how long it would take, I left too early and arrived there fourty minutes early. I turned the bike around and cycled into town, buying the perfume prior to the interview. It felt like I was picking my destiny: I was going to be happy, regardless of what would happen at that company. I think that’s what the perfume will always remind me of. The concious decision to be happy.

I got the job, by the way.

I spent most of yesterday babysitting a 9-year-old boy whose diapers I used to change. We always have a great time together, so it’s hardly a job. He’s been known to ask his parents “Can’t you go away somewhere, like to the movies or something, so Leonie can come?” He’s got a sense of humour, that one. I like him.

The weather has been great too: sunny and warm. Yesterday and today I played volleyball with all the kids in the neighbourhood. We eat popsicles. We sit in the sun. They bicker about who goes in which team. I love every minute of it.

The sun’s been so strong there was a sun factor alarm in place today: given the sun’s strength today, people with light skin tones (read: “Leonie”) should not spend more than 15 minutes in the sun without sunscreen. I’ll confess now that I sinned and spent quite a bit of time in the sun, but I don’t think I’ve burnt. I’ll slap on some aftersun tonight to make sure I don’t look a shade of lobster for my interview tomorrow.

My interview. Oh dear, the interview. I am very, very nervous. It’s a good job that will have me sorted until halfway through August. It’s a nice company. Dad will be able to drop me off on his way to work. My parents are going on holiday tomorrow, which means I’ll be cycling tomorrow. I’m not sure how long I’ll take exactly, so I’m setting aside a little over an hour to get there. I just hope I don’t turn up all sweaty and gross, or with teary pink eyes from hay fever. I hope I’ll do well, I really do. Fingers crossed!

PS. The leaves are off a tree in front of our house. I took the picture from my bedroom window. I like the different shades of green as the sun shines through the leaves. The title of my post refers to lyrics by the lovely Norah Jones, of course. There is no better music to listen to as the sunrays rush in through the open window.

I handed in the keys of my appartment and the mailbox this morning. My parents hadn’t quite arrived yet, so I had moved the boxes of stuff out into the hallway. I thought I’d only left the bare essentials in Middelburg, but three boxes worth of junk had been left behind after all.

I put a beautiful dress on that I bought in Australia but only wore once (for Christmas. Liam’s grandmother was going to visit, and I felt bad about the cleavage). I had a pair of black heels to go with the dress, but I’d fallen in love with a pair of red high heels on Thursday. When we set of into town, like an altogether very smart-looking family, I took my family down to the shoe shop. Yes, I bough them. The dress had a red, black and off-white pattern. I figured that red shoes would make me stand out a bit from the mob of people in black gowns with silly caps on, too. I don’t normally fall in love with any item of attire, but those shoes? They had my name on them.

All students then gathered at uni to get dressed in our caps and gowns. I’d left mine in the plastic wrapping they came in, thinking they would stay cleaner that way among the obscene amount of dust in my room. Thankfully I wasn’t the only supposedly clever person who hadn’t thought about gownsy wrinkliness. For the rest of the day, I looked like I’d just come out of the box.

We took a big group photo in front of the town hall that double sas our university. The photographer told the front row to kneel down. Because the front row consisted of the shorter people, there was a collective sigh of girls in dresses. It was most uncomfortable, but the pictures turned out great. We haven’t actually received any of them yet, but my dad stood right next to the photographer and took the same photos. They are good.

Afterwards, we gathered at the back of the town hall, lined up in alphabetical order, and got ready to march down to the church at the abby complex where the actual graduation ceremony was situated. For a batch of people about to receive their Bachelor degree, a few people still had quite a bit of trouble. We had to wait for ages. All the guests in the church had to be seated before we would parade in. Slowly but surely, more and more girls started shuffling around and shifting their weight from one leg to another with a pained look on their faces. Standing up in heels for half an hour is most uncomfortable. On the upside, an ex-housemate fixed my tassle. You wouldn’t want to walk into the church with a messed up tassle. The embarrassment.

The procession was awesome. It reminded me of a game of Snake on a Nokia phone. My mind works in curious ways. There was just a long, long line of caps and gowns crossing the market square in front of the town hall. At that moment, I felt so proud to be a part of my uni, and so proud of everyone else who took the plunge and studied at a brandnew university. I felt proud to show the city that had so reluctantly let us in that we did it, so get stuffed. That walk made all the abuse we copped over the years completely insignificant.

The church ceremony was short and sweet. After all the standing up and walking, everyone was happy to sit down for a while. I was in the penultimate row of seats, at the end of the row, so I was in charge of getting my row up at the right time to pick up the paperwork. I don’t remember much of walking up the podium, shaking the dean’s hand and all that. I remember he said that I had a great list of grades, and congratulations. I vaguely remember shaking a few more hands, and receiving a rose. I vaguely remember swapping my tassle over to the other side, symbolising that I’d made it to the other side. I took the plunge, swam, and got out the other end. I most vividly remember sitting back down and wondering where the hell to leave the paperowrk and the rose. I remember feeling both pride and disappointment when I noticed I’d fallen 0.4 short of a cum laude degree, and never realised I was so close.

The reception was so Harry Potter-esque it tickled my funny bone. A crowd of people in black gowns in a building that could have doubled as Hogwarts… Funny. I introduced my parents to teachers, to other students. There were drinks. There were more drinks. I stocked up on RA goodies (yearbook, shirt, thermos mug). We walked back to the car (the pain!) and got in for the long drive home.

I wasn’t looking forward to graduation, but it turned out to be the best day.

PS. All photos were taken by my champ of a dad.