So while we were busy getting things ready for a new server, I casually perused the logs on our web server, specifically this site's (which I haven't checked for many moons).

Now I'm not a sucker for traffic unless it's directly related to revenue, but the following little round(ish) number brought a smile to my face:

Apparently, people do read when I per chance gather enough inspiration to write my usual mish-mash of words.

Who'd have thunk?

Leave on a jet plane.

I know you'll be back again. Pack your bags and stand outside your door. Wave goodbye to the foreign currency and trade it for something more. Take a look at the sky, remember the summer breeze, the way it whispers through the trees while you're taking a nap after a picnic.

Pack your bags and think of the laughter of friends around you. Think of the bergie back home, of how he manages to find humour even before he finds a place to sleep.

Pack your bags and remember how the lady on the corner dresses up in full head-attire, even though she's just selling little beaded necklaces for R20 a pop.

Pack your bags and remember the taste of karoo lamb chops fresh from the grid.

Close your front door and remember the crispness of the air when the sun peeks its warm face out in winter, lovingly stroking you with that sunburn you so sorely miss.

Walk down the road and think about the buzz that is opportunity. Think about how that buzz represents hope. Think of Africa.

Leave on a jet plane, we're waiting for you.

Come home.

Of all the things I like doing, stating the misunderstood obvious is right up there. This explains why I love what Jason had to say:

Most copywriting on the web sucks because it’s written for the writer, not for the reader. Write for the reader. That is all.

Check out the comments, specifically the one by Rex.

I recently decided that it was time I teach myself how to cook. I mean really cook, not pretend to. As appetising as crumbed chicken breasts and veggies defrosted on the stovetop are, they don't quite rival a good bobotie (yum) or an expertly prepared pot roast. I've been wading through a standard-issue 5-yearly life assessment cum stock-take (as one tends to do) during the last month or so, and realised that cooking skills were conspicuously absent from my resumé. This is just not on.

So, I'm busy gathering copious amounts of information on the art of food, in the hope that at least a small portion will translate into actual flavour. Statistically speaking, this is a solid assumption, right?

As with most things, experimentation is a key element of the learning experience (as is the desire to learn in the first place). Being the smart-ass that I am, I decided this weekend that I'd start my experimentation with dessert. Hah, who said hors d'oeuvres come first? And so, I present my first self-invented dish, ostentatiously called "sweet fried citrus slivers". So simple really:

2x Persimmons (ripe) - I found a punnet at Woolworths, apparently they're not all that common
2x Bananas (ripe)
1 tablespoon cinnamon
1 tablespoon butter or margarine
Ice cream
Syrup

1. Heat a frying pan until it's hot (note my conspicious amateur status)
2. Melt the butter/margarine and spread evenly
3. Slice the persimmons as thinly as possible, cutting each sliver in half again
4. Sprinkle each slice with cinnamon on one side only
5. Stir-fry for roughly 5 minutes, or until slight browning starts to occur on both sides
6. Slice bananas about 1cm thick and add to pan
7. Continue to stir-fry for about 2 minutes
8. Remove, add ice cream and a small squirt of syrup
9. Enjoy

Complicated, isn't it? I had no idea something so simple could taste so nice, but now I do. Seriously, you have to try it, it's delicious.

Next stop, dinner.

Continued from part 1...

The subject of my very serious question session this time around is someone who brings eloquence to decomposition (or that's the impression I have at least).

Let's jump straight in and welcome her on stage. Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome the frightfully delightful, the scarilicious (I made that up) Mrs Tex Benitez:

Tell us about your hearse. Is it equipped with any cool gadgets, like James Bond's car?

Sadly, no. In fact, it’s about as bog standard as they come: windows you crank by hand, (Dead) Babe on Board sticker on the rear window, a little gold trim here and there, but really, nothing to flutter a pulse over. It shipped with a lifelong supply of those pine-scented air freshener tags - and a little nodding dog in a neck brace, of course - but no passenger airbags! Not even a margarita-holder! I briefly considered adding 'go-faster' stripes to the bonnet but, you know, once you’ve settled into that Lux Interior®, what's the hurry?

I'm thinking of saving up for an ambulance.

What's your favourite shape of knife and why?

Naturally, most people take me for a 'stiletto', or 'machete' kind of woman but, in fact, I rarely leave home without the Swiss Army of Darkness® pocket knife I borrowed from Virgil after he used it to tunnel out of summer camp three years in a row. It has a cute little melon baller attachment and one of those things you use to remove stones from, er... things with stones in them. You won't believe how useful I've found it over the years.

I haven't been able to pick up any spelling mistakes in your writing. Is someone holding a sword over your head?

Mother claims it was a dark and stormy night, I vaguely recall a crossroads... and, forgive me, I'm a little hazy here... I’m pretty sure a firstborn changed hands and, yes... yes, that’s right, Microlytics rolled out their first spell checker shortly thereafter. You may have heard of it.

When last did you speak to Elvis?

Elvis? I had a landscaper named El Vez, once. He did wonderful things to my aspidistras. We're not actually allowed to communicate with each other these days. Unless it's through a State-approved medium. Mother used to be a medium. Now she's a large. Boom-boom! I'm terribly sorry... where was I?

Mrs Tex Benitez. Is it really Mrs, or just a clever ploy to dissuade drooling zombies from making marriage proposals?

I've had my fair share of suitors who would, I suspect, love nothing more than to nibble my earlobes and whisper "braaaaiiiins" as they fumble with my stays, but ever since my Tex – that's Mr. Benitez - met with his unfortunate pastrami accident, I just haven't felt the same about 'interviewing' the hired help behind the conservatory. At least, not until I find the webcam I know he had installed.

Still, there is a gentleman caller that I've been keeping an eye (and my hands) on of late. A couple more years of conditioning and I might even let him out of the basement.

I value your business. Even though, at this moment in time, you probably don't think much of such a statement. I don't blame you, it's the kind of thing that's usually thrown around quite lightly. In this case however, I'm aware of the fact that you're unhappy, and it concerns me. Why? Firstly, because I don't like disappointing people, and secondly because your being unhappy affects the long-term future of my business and the people involved with it. This means that I have a responsibility that cannot be shrugged.

In matters of business, one needs to work at things just like you would in any other kind of relationship. One of the important things here is that communication needs to be open and honest. The reality is that it mostly isn't. What really needs to be said gets muddled in jargon, inefficient official language and a fear of being seen as unprofessional if any personal tone of voice (or writing) is used. This fear is quite silly really. Ridiculous, even. Being professional is not a fickle thing. True professionalism is not so shallow that it can be undermined by one or two breaks from convention. It's an underlying mentality. With that in mind, I'd like to offer an open apology.

I'm sorry that we've been slow when responding to your questions, when solving your problems, even when scheduling that initial meeting to see how we could help you. I realise that this frustrates you; and would like you to be aware that the frustration is mutual. You see, when we devised this new packaged project offering of ours, we had a hunch that we were onto something good. We thought "hey, this could work well, let's give it a go". What we didn't realise was just how positively people would react...

And so, while we're very happy with the amount of demand we're receiving from people like you, we're also very aware of our capacity to deliver. Not just to deliver, but to deliver at the level that we've become proud of and known for. It's a quality thing, and quality is not negotiable for us. Unfortunately for the capacity aspect, people with the skills required to build and deliver the specific things we're offering aren't all that readily available. We're growing our team to better serve you, but we're only able to grow it gradually - to be honest, we prefer it this way; it means we can keep a firm hold on the quality element.

So here's the thing: While we gear ourselves to be able to keep up with what you're asking of us, we'd really appreciate your understanding. When we don't call back immediately, please remind us. When we can't schedule a meeting quickly, please bear with us. When we take a day longer to resolve a technical problem, please be patient with us. We really are excited about moving towards being faster, friendlier and more accessible to you, but we need your help in getting there. Thanks for your business, we really do appreciate it!

So I'm a big fan of lists. I never was, but I became one over the last few years, thanks to OneNote (but that's a story for another day).

In the mood for fun (and in my never-ending quest for enlightenment), I set up a list of 5 questions for two fascinating personalities whose writing I've been thoroughly enjoying lately. First up is the Ex Wrangler of Grannies, who so kindly was willing to put up with my silliness. She's really kind, actually. So kind that my comment on this piece of writing of hers was "If seduction could occur via adjectives, I'd be naked on the floor by noun."

Without further ado:

Who drew your underwear?

First off, bless you for not calling them 'panties'. They were 'dreamt and drawn' by me and are modelled on a few key pieces i have lurking in my knicker drawer. The Japanese symbol is a sneaky little tattoo placed somewhere on my body.

You seem to swear a lot when you write (like your title says). Is this because of having been around grannies all the time - you know, because you have to restrain yourself during work hours?

Fuck yes.

What's your favourite adjective and why?

Heinous. Torpid. Lackadaisical. They're fun to say and not many people know what they mean. Ever read The Superior Person's Book Of Words? That book was written for me.

Do you think Harry Potter is hot?

Snape i could devour. Potter, not so much.

Back to the underwear (sorry)... Do you really wear sketched underwear? I mean, isn't it uncomfortable?

I'm always a bit sketchy on underwear ;)