The Art of Fencing

INVISIBLE  fencing, to be exact. I ask you, can you see the fence?? 

Looks like you could walk right through it. Actually...you could.

 More invisible fence from the back corner. 

Look where you step, so you don't blunder into lurking poison ivy.

 Enter a mischievous, half-grown Lab, who was the motivation behind the fence. 

Here she's riding with us after church, to her new home in the Berry.

 Now the fence is no longer invisible. 

We didn't think the canines would fall for the emperor's new clothes trick, 

so we had Jacob's Fencing install one, and an excellent job they did, too!

 It only took me a week to be able to put the two dogs together, 

without Ariela threatening to tear her new compatriot from limb to limb. 

It still too early to predict who will win the coup, but my bet is on the older, wiser Carolina Dog 

to be the next dictator, er, pack leader. Under me, of course. But the decision will not be unanimous.

My two gorgeous debutantes--may I present Ariela and Sapphire?

My friend's dad's funeral

 Before the service, which was very good. Robert is at the front, of course. But his spirit is in Heaven!

 The family, seated, during the graveside service. If you look very closely under the tree, 

you may see a bagpiper, whose haunting melodies drifted across the field.

 Here is the released white dove, flying heavenward. 

The sky looks overcast, because thunderstorms were in the forecast, but the Lord kept even the rain away.

 The ladies preparing a meal afterward: Randy's daughter, Jean, Janice, and Julia. 

Oops, I cut Randy almost out of the picture. Sorry.

 Tim and Rhonda.

 I'd watched for deer on my visits, but never saw any until this day--there were five of them in the back yard. 

Perhaps looking for Robert, someone suggested.

Three lovely ladies--Jean, Janice, and Jean. My friends.

House on Yarmouth St.

 The new house from the street. Good to have a streetlight right beside it. Muizenberg Mt. is in the near distance.

 Inside the wall--no weeding needed here. The wall comes complete with climbing deterrent atop it.

 Gloria standing inside the kitchen, admiring the handiness of the design.

 In the living room, speaking with current renter. I forget what country this family is originally from. Too bad the gorgeous sofa doesn't come with it. But then you'd be scared to sit on it for fear of messing it up.

 One of the two bathrooms, or toilets, as one says there in South Africa. Well, I guess there is an actual toilet (as compared to a theoretical one *grins*). I just don't see it in the picture for sure.

 

 One of the three bedrooms. If you can see them, the built-in cabinets run up to the ceiling.

 Looking down the hall. The tiled floors are very nice--easy to clean, and no bacteria hiding inside, as with carpeting. Bet there won't be another television next month, at least one that picks up stations.

 Looking out toward the street. Great space for storage. Interesting that the neighboring house is connected. Wonder why?

 On the other side of the picket fence, there is a small alleyway between the house and the wall that can be used for hanging laundry or for other things.

 The back yard. Easy to envision flowers or a vegetable garden!

 The neighbors' bougainvillea peeking over the back fence at Evangel

I just took this to show the pretty door. It's a nice house, and possession is March. Soon!

Last week in Muizenberg

 You never know what you might find at the once-a-month boot sale. Vicki found this birdie in the intense heat of that Saturday morning, and rescued him for a price--isn't he adorable?

 Paul and James solving the world's problems on a beach walk. Or perhaps James is describing the Arizona fashion show sponsored by Maricopa County's Uncle Joe again. Hope the water doesn't tip out of the ocean because of my careless angle here.

 Frontline's birthday luncheon for Paul.  Peter Hammond sat at our table (the other side of Paul).

 Paul was asked to give the devotional after lunch. He preached on Psalm 126--the dry desert, desert storm, and the blooming desert. Our dead lives can live again!

Waiting patiently at the gate to leave Joburg. A problem with passengers who were to join us at Dakar, or perhaps those to leave us at Dakar, had the South African Airways redoing all of our tickets.  No one had a hissy over it, that I could tell, fortunately. I had just polished off one and a half bottles of water and a can of juice that the security agent told me I couldn't bring on board, so I eventually segued into crisis mode, the toilets/restrooms being off limits. Finally I returned to the checkpoint and craved permission to visit the toilets; the agent on duty permitted me, but those on duty when I returned hadn't noticed my defecting. However, you'll be relieved (did I just say that?) to know that I did make it onto the plane and many, many hours later--at least it seemed so--arrived at the Columbia airport to be picked up by Grace and Ariela, the latter of which went crazy upon spotting me. Well, Grace may have, too, but she kept her composure outwardly.

Outings with Mrs. Ross

 Mrs. Ross was a good excuse to visit new places, such as new or used bookstores, and restaurants. The restaurants were the kind that we wouldn't have frequented otherwise, due to their ambiance and elegance. Not to mention something so tawdry as prices.

 Take a gander at this dessert--chocolate mousse.

 Dining at Casa Labia, a landmark "recently restored to its former glory" on Main Rd. in Muizenberg/ St. James, it is indeed elegant. We chose simple foods, such as quiche, which were delicious.

 Upstairs in the Cultural Centre, where African works of art are displayed, presumably for sale.

 Looking out the window toward the Pavilion on the beach. The Pavilion is where the New Year's Day outreach was centered.

 The gardens beside Casa Labia. Very beautiful, picturesque setting.

On Mrs. Ross' wall--I admired a handcrafted Bible verse with seashells adorning it. Purple is Mrs. Ross' color, and she even had purple orchids. She is a delightful person to know. She used to be a Young.

The Malay Quarter tour--January 25, 2012

Because a friend had given Evangel a birthday present of three coupons for a tour of Bo Kaap--previously known as the Malay Quarter in Cape Town--she, her mom, and I made an appointment for the day before I left for home. It was a broiling hot day, and the tour was a walking one, so we sought shade whenever we could. The neighborhood was delightful to photograph, however.

This was a structure which was a haven for graffiti vandals, until recently when several artists were hired to redecorate it to depict the area's history, including the Malaysians having been brought to South Africa as slaves.

These Bo Kaap homes are brightly colorful and cheerful, many from the 17th and 19th  centuries. The tour guide, also the owner of the company, is in white.

There are at least eleven mosques in Bo Kaap. Our guide assured us ladies that the clothing restrictions for women are chosen by the ladies themselves ("Those cover-all veils are just man-made rules!"), and pants and/or long dresses in the mosque are worn, "...so the men won't look up our butts." Don't mind us, ma'am, just go ahead and express yourself however you like. Actually, I couldn't understand most of what she said, but apparently the bulk of it was complaining about the lack of government handouts and other persecutions for righteousness. I did, however, get part of the procedures Muslim corpses undergo, here in South Africa, and in Mecca (assembly line style there, due to the high traffic of "becoming late", as Mma. Ramotsewe would say.). After they've been entombed a while, then they are elbowed out of the way for fresh corpses, their bones left in a pile beside the tomb. At least that is how I understood the process.

Inside the owner's home for lunch, which was delicious, if small. The seating was not designed for tall people; I didn't know what to do with mine, and I'm not even tall, so I sat cross-legged. Still, an attractive room.

Two large windows opposite each other provided a lovely breeze for the room, and afford a nice view overlooking Cape Town.

We walked further up Signal Hill, and  our tour guide was walking so slow and gasping, I thought I might have to get behind her and push. In the distance is Lion's Head, which two or so years ago, a group of us climbed in the dark (never again, my dears).

The goal at the top, a cemetery. There is a tomb of one of the notable Muslims, which they even call "saints", plus the most pitiful-looking cemetery I've ever laid eyes upon. You can see the grave markers in the center of the picture--small, uneven, scattered. It's too late for those people, but many other Muslims can learn how to find eternal life through repentance and faith in Christ Jesus, if someone will just tell them.

 Our group standing at a spot past the cemetery, at the edge of a sharp drop-off. I wouldn't go near because it made me nervous with its loose rocks and no railing whatsoever. To stumble would probably mean death or permanent disablement. But my view was nice, much better than you'd get rolling down the hill.

Returning to our cars and thinking happy thoughts about air conditioning and ice cream awaiting us at Canal Walk.

Seal Island trip

Gloria and Daniel at Hout Bay, as we wander through the stalls waiting for our Seal Island cruise

A band of older men perform for disembarking cruise passengers (this is the boat of our voyage, also). One of the band members was missing a hand and the other was badly deformed. But they were a cheerful bunch, and I could appreciate the fact that they were earning a living instead of begging, so I didn't  mind tossing a few rand into the hat as I walked by.

 

Daniel, like Jonah, exploring the bowels of the ship. I found up on the bow of the ship more exciting,  as that was where the most action was in the tossing of the vessel in the waves.

Seal island itself. The seals ignored us totally, except for maybe cavorting more energetically. The group of Chinese (I could tell they were Chinese, because I caught "sheh sheh" a few times, the word for "Thank you") businessmen enjoyed Danielito and Connie, crowding around with their cameras and laughing. Danielito was scared and wanted to go to bed, but Connie enjoyed it all, with nary a queasy moment.

Food court African style, exotic and noisy. You have to grab a seat right away, and then one of your group goes and picks food for everybody. Gloria and I had baguettes, with spicy sauces, and for dessert I had an eclair; South African desserts are not as sweet as ours, so there is less guilt involved when one indulges, although one bulges nonetheless.

 

Here is the food court mime, near our table. He held quite still  most of the time,  but when he moved, he did it with the jerky motions of an early robot. He looked like a silver Wacko Jacko, so he creeped me out. As we walked past, I pretty much forgot him, but he reached out and grabbed my hand; I shook it, but wouldn't look at him. I wasn't in the mood to fork out for him, and I knew he was playing mime games with me.

 

Like these chairs? I thought they were cool. Actually, cool in more than one way.

 

Connie showing off her gymnastic skills, dressed  as a happy jailbird.