Updates on previous posts.

1)    David tried his Springbok juice.  He described it as some kind of mysterious, flat soda.  Happy Father’s Day!

2)    Last night David and I went to a fantastic Bed and Breakfast place on the Midlands Meander.  In chatting with the host, I told him about how Matthew managed to get a shonogololo (millipede) into his mouth until Matthew (and the millipede I guess) was rescued by Aunt Steph.  So as I feel like the worst Mom this guy had the best, most reassuring story ever.  He told me he had a friend in grade school who enjoyed eating shongololos.  Yep.  You just snap off the head, snap off the tail, and sluuuuurp out the guts.  And he assured me that this friend did not just do it to gross out the girls.  It was just a free, tasty treat.  So no need for me to worry about Matthew.  Now that’s a great B&B host, right?!

3)    Stu (the guy who heads up iThemba where Steph works) asked me how I liked watching the Springboks game last weekend.  It was my first experience watching a rugby game.  I told him that I enjoyed it, minus the tons of alcohol involved.  And I told him that it was interesting to watch from the perspective of someone who currently does not understand or appreciate rugby strategy.  To me it looked like mad chaos on the field, and then at the snap of a finger, all of the players on both teams are in long, beautiful lines stretched across the entire width of the field.  And I thought, wait a minute, I know what this reminds me of:  marching band!  Yes!  Rugby really has some parallels to marching band!  Plus, in rugby the players do not wear protective gear, and arguably ought to, just like in marching band.  Plus, I thought, which would I rather have crash into me at high speeds: a big rugby player, or a high-school kid with a tuba?  I just don’t know.  Both scenarios sound frightening to me, and yet we send them out there with no protective gear for the sake of entertainment.  I am on to something, no?