tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-84932187794245941942024-03-19T20:24:02.891+11:00Life and times of the unanimous libertarians I was driving down St George's Road and saw a piece of street art that said 'I believe in childhood dreams' and it spoke to me. I'm documenting the ups and downs of our existence, mainly for family and friends who live all over the place. Our lives are so busy, it's nice and sometimes essential to stop and assess. Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger144125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8493218779424594194.post-4948596636190452272015-01-21T22:22:00.006+11:002015-01-21T22:22:58.974+11:00Turkey, a taster...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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So in September Iggy and I headed off for Turkey, with a brief stop in England, and Norway. We spent nearly all of October traversing the varied and magnificent terrain that is Turkey, and immersing ourselves in an ancient cultural landscape, from Istanbul, to Goreme, Izmir and Pumakkale, and Ifes. <br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8493218779424594194.post-36086177801541124352014-10-01T08:58:00.001+10:002014-10-01T08:58:13.970+10:00Hanging with Iggy, London one year on.Already we've been in the UK for four days not including Friday when we arrived in the evening. It's lovely to travel with Iggy and has been an absolute delight to see Oscar and Jasper in the flesh. The boys are so similar to my babies when they were small. Travelling with a teen is interesting. It's about this age that teens need social interaction with their peer group and Iggy is already missing this. He spent the entire day at a publishers office bored to death and sleepy, feeling quite lonely and out of it. 'I hate your work face' he tells me, furious at his wasted day as I drag him to the British museum in a huge taxi, little amuses him and London is not his favourite place. He's wrong, London's wild, he just doesn't know it yet. <div><br></div><div>What he does know, now, is that mummy is good at her job, and she's bossy there <div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCR55DANeqssHW7zXNvJVtwHa7T1Z77au76lTuSzWp3OVEMTMLA7_EGIXM-w-iRCVmbncM5ylnI6C7-kkLJkUYka6bi_1-fpzZUlEPSPfsc79CzR8CRlwPDzIeJUSEROPtl8DPMysDdtBV/s640/blogger-image-1023743128.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCR55DANeqssHW7zXNvJVtwHa7T1Z77au76lTuSzWp3OVEMTMLA7_EGIXM-w-iRCVmbncM5ylnI6C7-kkLJkUYka6bi_1-fpzZUlEPSPfsc79CzR8CRlwPDzIeJUSEROPtl8DPMysDdtBV/s640/blogger-image-1023743128.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgYAjLSypW1YGWUiMFzPNvP5HZvKVXOJ_isBDAaQIuZHUmTqt8Mhx9es8n3b7FhOoSxBYM7zYYB6WeLVeeJLBfNKvLO9_qpSq-ILwWZhhAxc3KWPHZ040NB4RVAeYNODywhQoG2s5aHh38/s640/blogger-image-1297255031.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgYAjLSypW1YGWUiMFzPNvP5HZvKVXOJ_isBDAaQIuZHUmTqt8Mhx9es8n3b7FhOoSxBYM7zYYB6WeLVeeJLBfNKvLO9_qpSq-ILwWZhhAxc3KWPHZ040NB4RVAeYNODywhQoG2s5aHh38/s640/blogger-image-1297255031.jpg"></a></div><span style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue Light', HelveticaNeue-Light, helvetica, arial, sans-serif;">as well as home; the British love to queue, like REALLY LOVE IT, and sometimes a castle is not really a castle, and a cave is not really a cave, no matter how much you pretend. </span></div><div><br></div><div>He seems to adore the multitude of accents, and when the British are on THEY ARE ON, but they can be so rude, and you can say that of any group of people anywhere, and if your going to apply sweeping generalisations in an attempt to be an amateur anthropologist then keep them nice. </div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><div><br></div><br><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZW6Va9ZuBujUbMKi2sej8kKsi_77-RB6oYorha39YkHbR5F7EkpzhwJeaayJQnI8pjs48vHOPnyro0lOS2u8ddlDdxMVQMVu8fhvDZ1QK-JUkVSsffB-vqaTApWM5gCr28Y4H5IYp2k8Y/s640/blogger-image-505766326.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZW6Va9ZuBujUbMKi2sej8kKsi_77-RB6oYorha39YkHbR5F7EkpzhwJeaayJQnI8pjs48vHOPnyro0lOS2u8ddlDdxMVQMVu8fhvDZ1QK-JUkVSsffB-vqaTApWM5gCr28Y4H5IYp2k8Y/s640/blogger-image-505766326.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKpqjyCk1Qw2b21f9Ar_lFpvXtC2fBwq6ubBpDqLfKccjJUxLETF7W9cFoJa-1CRYHViW0qLI_-A0TBn5aHZ87v4RE64l4WOGNbEKwoZbaPF8RRYmzJZY4AMWmMf1rbOKMzhINHPNfDU9J/s640/blogger-image-580351663.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKpqjyCk1Qw2b21f9Ar_lFpvXtC2fBwq6ubBpDqLfKccjJUxLETF7W9cFoJa-1CRYHViW0qLI_-A0TBn5aHZ87v4RE64l4WOGNbEKwoZbaPF8RRYmzJZY4AMWmMf1rbOKMzhINHPNfDU9J/s640/blogger-image-580351663.jpg"></a></div><br></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic4Gqz12zodngANI2l4qvXHcLeqbc9SmtKmhWVM0dYyQRWg1tW6jj4lEEakoTo1clNatvs6SQVecDoA-kR3YmfUI9z_-rr0zK2NiWMG-W6Coe5piA2zniXopE8i1-NffsxYgQ7MXLivTaJ/s640/blogger-image--187346539.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEic4Gqz12zodngANI2l4qvXHcLeqbc9SmtKmhWVM0dYyQRWg1tW6jj4lEEakoTo1clNatvs6SQVecDoA-kR3YmfUI9z_-rr0zK2NiWMG-W6Coe5piA2zniXopE8i1-NffsxYgQ7MXLivTaJ/s640/blogger-image--187346539.jpg"></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi93Ydhp9PSxGHwdKYy5Mqc9YY3pk5r9UR4b_OxQrJOY7XzpxubhRkaUOHo4nwZGK1IFSgEEHL7-EDmoOES9mjo3bvUJhGs6128K2bKMb1ciigbnUQ9RlX1Lxrb1rCKfJ0Syn9JbFmnLhEh/s640/blogger-image-294641856.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi93Ydhp9PSxGHwdKYy5Mqc9YY3pk5r9UR4b_OxQrJOY7XzpxubhRkaUOHo4nwZGK1IFSgEEHL7-EDmoOES9mjo3bvUJhGs6128K2bKMb1ciigbnUQ9RlX1Lxrb1rCKfJ0Syn9JbFmnLhEh/s640/blogger-image-294641856.jpg"></a></div><br></div><br></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8493218779424594194.post-85694267712518368952014-01-01T15:43:00.001+11:002014-01-01T15:43:32.543+11:00We are the lucky onesWe are the lucky ones. We are safe. We are the lucky ones. We seek no home, no safe haven. We are the lucky ones. We seek no food, no cloth to cover ourselves. We are the lucky ones. We are bold, hold our heads high. We are the lucky ones. The world is ours for the taking. We are the lucky ones. Our houses stay standing in storms, our counsels regulate our buildings. We are the lucky ones. Fruit trees line our streets, not soldiers. We are the lucky ones. Our speech is free, our education top 10 in the world according to the OECD. We are the lucky ones. Our science is some of the best in the world. We are the lucky ones. Our health system is one of the worlds best. We are the lucky ones. Our country is full of protected environments. We are the lucky ones. We voted for Tony Abbott. Are we still the lucky ones?Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8493218779424594194.post-4319494853379222542013-12-29T01:19:00.004+11:002013-12-29T01:21:55.382+11:00Call of Duty. Ghosts. Black ops. Modern Warfare. Stroke Team. World at War. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdEXZajq3KWC_5OpL6L39bV1XAftbb01S1NhUFN1U_2oUuOG23p6Em-kLMoHfS2DLu2L62EvJwsPCHPHhasSz6MEsDa7TgZdaHuoo8Mh7enaTnYo3kPfV-Yi_BQRERNsCTbIC1351AfAXH/s1600/Ben+Chichoski+.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdEXZajq3KWC_5OpL6L39bV1XAftbb01S1NhUFN1U_2oUuOG23p6Em-kLMoHfS2DLu2L62EvJwsPCHPHhasSz6MEsDa7TgZdaHuoo8Mh7enaTnYo3kPfV-Yi_BQRERNsCTbIC1351AfAXH/s1600/Ben+Chichoski+.jpg" /></a></div>
The top of the teens Christmas wish-list was 'Call of Duty' (COD). He was talking about COD for Playstation in particular, irrelevant, but it's interesting to note that the dude that invented and developed the game, Ben Chichoski has sold it over multi platforms and made over $120 million for his efforts. Back to my teen, and my conscience, as I am a conscience buyer; Hamish and I dropped into EB Games at Northland and found a shop clerk over 14 years of age, in fact he seemed an almost bonafide adult. I asked him, about the games for Playstation, and their appropriateness, or lack thereof for a 13 year old. He was quick to say, as an experienced gamer that COD was not for kids and was really an intense game, and that he wouldn't let his kids play. Done. We didn't get the game. Why then, I asked does Playstation and XBox make games either for young children or adults with a huge gap where the teen games should go? And he said the market demanded it, and as kids always wanted to be older and they consequently wanted the older games. The wanna be grown up becomes the games greatest marketing tool. And parents buy this message with ease. The consoles are sold as 'games', games are for kids, ergo, the games made for the games machine is for kids. But no.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8XJhtdSH6Qz5SKMlEoDPgFafcsrHMhvzboFce-ddehxrSRrMFb6u9k1JVQ87V63K92amnSJXzFXyA2OGTFKRknAnyB36C0sORjJ4epLl0pnJx0lYeRbEFrWf0OlohAnTt9T2xfxoAp2tU/s1600/Call+of+duty+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8XJhtdSH6Qz5SKMlEoDPgFafcsrHMhvzboFce-ddehxrSRrMFb6u9k1JVQ87V63K92amnSJXzFXyA2OGTFKRknAnyB36C0sORjJ4epLl0pnJx0lYeRbEFrWf0OlohAnTt9T2xfxoAp2tU/s1600/Call+of+duty+1.jpg" /></a></div>
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I've heard rumours over the years that the COD series was made by the US military, but I can't substantiate that. However, I can substantiate that the US army jumped on board with COD by placing XBox machines in malls around America as a recruitment tool.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUReHTnAI8Y09gNLfW4rfzloYB8dvZlm02mRp8yqtwRtB8OYALDVG4EDrwpH2iBv3Syk1ZHHYbPdYmTw3rI7V_10C2SgJ7q4rrOraSEk6aP-87BIIqrGHuWLRG8V3YavRc8GO3P-KFYMZ6/s1600/COD+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUReHTnAI8Y09gNLfW4rfzloYB8dvZlm02mRp8yqtwRtB8OYALDVG4EDrwpH2iBv3Syk1ZHHYbPdYmTw3rI7V_10C2SgJ7q4rrOraSEk6aP-87BIIqrGHuWLRG8V3YavRc8GO3P-KFYMZ6/s1600/COD+2.jpg" /></a></div>
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http://planetivy.com/gaming/4501/how-call-of-duty-became-a-recruitment-tool-for-the-armed-forces/</div>
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http://www.theguardian.com/technology/2012/mar/18/video-games-propaganda-tools-military</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifltMO3zy0sVlVcrVjJk5yEVDAhsjDPcV6JsTgDwfp3OZEh1d1arQa0HeBY3WmDqNvDYEcyW2V2N1eaROUSIE9_hAVXY3xM29JcxJzrfMICTXVaPSHe1a8LVyH5WV8uA-zlQFTHqNk_UKr/s1600/COD+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifltMO3zy0sVlVcrVjJk5yEVDAhsjDPcV6JsTgDwfp3OZEh1d1arQa0HeBY3WmDqNvDYEcyW2V2N1eaROUSIE9_hAVXY3xM29JcxJzrfMICTXVaPSHe1a8LVyH5WV8uA-zlQFTHqNk_UKr/s1600/COD+3.jpg" /></a></div>
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'The Last Starfighter'? This concept has been explored before; however, I've got a feeling this doesn't translate to Afghanistan, Iraq, Somalia, and the many countries around the world in a state of war. </div>
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http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H7NaxBxFWSo</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnFNKZBBBGGA-UhMpFiYfZc7UMKNo1EqWuXweKsB-YomNDmz2A6FgvljgPMXUhY4HEwcPCdpOerb8za-p37SPh_PsSXuj2Ry3gnTUTU6WuPGBwr5oqKIjP2zBb9qWdKF0symzt8060lewN/s1600/COD+4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnFNKZBBBGGA-UhMpFiYfZc7UMKNo1EqWuXweKsB-YomNDmz2A6FgvljgPMXUhY4HEwcPCdpOerb8za-p37SPh_PsSXuj2Ry3gnTUTU6WuPGBwr5oqKIjP2zBb9qWdKF0symzt8060lewN/s1600/COD+4.jpg" /></a>The fairly spoilt teen was devastated not to receive COD in some manifestation on christmas morning, although he will survive. In the evening we hung out with some relatives who were fine with the COD for their 12 year old. Teen begged me to have a look at the game and play it, really assess it. And as I watched the POV of a solider, as me, slaughter people in the street, wander through towns and wipe them out indiscriminately, knowing that in some versions they represent arab people. An oppressed and hated people by many in the West, and it sickens me. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKDHV7t4yrB3uhfYhmo6z_P_fA4wqhic8Pdd5vVROJEVYOJDxqWK9ByXssFMYKvq7Z0zRNoUs3Ts6UaLc3EJwY1OGA9uwnmpkA0vYSWe1nV6_QbtTTqE-Zlkz8yJooQ8nWGiGmMy47Uobd/s1600/COD+5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKDHV7t4yrB3uhfYhmo6z_P_fA4wqhic8Pdd5vVROJEVYOJDxqWK9ByXssFMYKvq7Z0zRNoUs3Ts6UaLc3EJwY1OGA9uwnmpkA0vYSWe1nV6_QbtTTqE-Zlkz8yJooQ8nWGiGmMy47Uobd/s1600/COD+5.jpg" /></a>Boxing Day, I find myself back at EB Games, this time with the teen in tow, well, he's towing me. And I ask a shop clerk again for their opinion. The very young fellow we speak to epitomises my fears when he says, 'COD is not as bad as Grand Theft Auto, as that's realistic, whereas COD is total fantasy'. I'm incensed and proceed to embarrass teen thoroughly, by saying 'are you serious'? COD is a tool that makes it more comfortable for the western people playing it to see and swallow the killing of Arabs, and this suits western governments on many levels'. </div>
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And that's where I stand on COD. We don't have it. I don't want it. And I'm confused that it's so common, so acceptable and so OK in a world that's heading off to hell in a hand basket. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJloy3s-pY9Kp035A_2PWPSmyrKJyBDGWuJymPHzBnWOZx-Og3qNZmUSFh_mQIL87BUnLM6NGyDj-SD5rGL3mP9IUEuE5L5nRmz38z_KbmXf-Pu03-vWjUXu1TWMo055CTaKSlkCK6lxvy/s1600/COD+7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJloy3s-pY9Kp035A_2PWPSmyrKJyBDGWuJymPHzBnWOZx-Og3qNZmUSFh_mQIL87BUnLM6NGyDj-SD5rGL3mP9IUEuE5L5nRmz38z_KbmXf-Pu03-vWjUXu1TWMo055CTaKSlkCK6lxvy/s1600/COD+7.jpg" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt7CkNtuG_MZw0ycsBA808DiQmNj5muXiCJQqnlr2ez_7BI390RORD6Ai3O5W9vQ2wLGCLyAlxkmDM7jKMK2SU9YzLqA_DO7gXpAv3LeL4r3WtU_6gQEXs25fEwRw_MYnx5hYBVAXsk4cx/s1600/COD+6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt7CkNtuG_MZw0ycsBA808DiQmNj5muXiCJQqnlr2ez_7BI390RORD6Ai3O5W9vQ2wLGCLyAlxkmDM7jKMK2SU9YzLqA_DO7gXpAv3LeL4r3WtU_6gQEXs25fEwRw_MYnx5hYBVAXsk4cx/s1600/COD+6.jpg" /></a>This is what war looks like. It involves rape, murder, death, carnage, blood, mutilation, fear, terror, torture, and desperation. It is something we never want our privileged children to face or endure, not like the many children of the world who are actual child soldiers. Who play this game for real.</div>
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Would the people who let their children play this game and any of the COD series let me show their children these real images of war? </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCmdGkJ3vkiQv9PMtLtx5EA1itqIiy3eVxB0xEReXtq0oObuO4EyRS1p84qIk-wEobCbndfgeNZWWcJEZs0YLPtiNQYhajognfJLXyF1j_JsPs2cNevFCLospTC0PMZI_A-SUKosPLMtmc/s1600/results+of+war+1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCmdGkJ3vkiQv9PMtLtx5EA1itqIiy3eVxB0xEReXtq0oObuO4EyRS1p84qIk-wEobCbndfgeNZWWcJEZs0YLPtiNQYhajognfJLXyF1j_JsPs2cNevFCLospTC0PMZI_A-SUKosPLMtmc/s1600/results+of+war+1.jpg" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPGrXWx4_gk_DqiCOaEfcIzZoiHzsHnJxl8DKTQViR0jNwAk7lQdnsb4h6yU33KmNE7rXul4fuq7WlYnfe3TZpizBOMdZQI0roUi0uafUlhnqYeXJTj26zRKNHSW_DtJ_42mmhRvvlm8P_/s1600/results+of+war+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPGrXWx4_gk_DqiCOaEfcIzZoiHzsHnJxl8DKTQViR0jNwAk7lQdnsb4h6yU33KmNE7rXul4fuq7WlYnfe3TZpizBOMdZQI0roUi0uafUlhnqYeXJTj26zRKNHSW_DtJ_42mmhRvvlm8P_/s1600/results+of+war+2.jpg" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNPg02slcsyVNGZO9PX3GyMWzgPjfkaFAQTh0WuTnn-6iCRSQwAfF8osvjHjqfcO7kJYcY2DaURZjFG98-5t1aojqWAbtqliotNElXMQ1Mwxc2ux_9jhf2AIaCDmyR35_qipSDMMB3igya/s1600/Results+of+war+3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNPg02slcsyVNGZO9PX3GyMWzgPjfkaFAQTh0WuTnn-6iCRSQwAfF8osvjHjqfcO7kJYcY2DaURZjFG98-5t1aojqWAbtqliotNElXMQ1Mwxc2ux_9jhf2AIaCDmyR35_qipSDMMB3igya/s1600/Results+of+war+3.jpg" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisnyzF4jmqTiHRtmWj8Wl5TYjBSp73AkU6DADSIDoF9mJ_DI_3OyDP8dmBv9U-1PwIAZKz9UZAFc5S_vvfkRyAOGIY1TZcf047WOE5ZuNedgRUq8ODstrMeSNisoyXg4jPxBLQ3OYgPyU5/s1600/results+of+war+6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisnyzF4jmqTiHRtmWj8Wl5TYjBSp73AkU6DADSIDoF9mJ_DI_3OyDP8dmBv9U-1PwIAZKz9UZAFc5S_vvfkRyAOGIY1TZcf047WOE5ZuNedgRUq8ODstrMeSNisoyXg4jPxBLQ3OYgPyU5/s1600/results+of+war+6.jpg" /></a></div>
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This is what war looks like. It's NOT a game.</div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8493218779424594194.post-35408977871505126522013-06-13T12:01:00.002+10:002013-06-13T12:01:15.322+10:00Lobby groupAnyone who knows us or has read this blog knows that we had a very tough year last year with our little autistic boy and the mainstream school system. By the end of last year we had had such trauma at the hands of the school principal and her education department minions that Q had developed a breathing tick related to stress that is now, six months finally, for the first time in his schooling life Quinn is safe and happy and the tick is resolved. Last night at Quinn's OT appointment I queried his height. Stunted growth apparently, is a result of severe stress; severe stress has of course played a big part in Q's life. <div>
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I'm looking forward. I'm being brave. I have to because he is so very brave. But my guts are wretched, and my heart hurts. How can adults we trusted damage our child so much and be completely without responsibility without blame? If they remain so, then they will do more damage to other children. I will do my best from this year forward to push for legislation to change that. I believe that teachers, including kindergarten teachers need to have a mandatory reporting system for children with autism. I believe they need to then have the accurate training, which will be enforced as a part of the curriculum in education. I believe that even over-reporting of 30 per cent would be a worthwhile figure as early intervention is the only means of treatment for children with autism, and other conditions relative to autism benefit from the same treatments. </div>
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I am starting a lobby group and I will be working towards pushing for this mandate basing it on <span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px; text-align: left;">Sections 182(1) a-e, 184 and 162 c-d of the</span><em style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px; text-align: left;">Children, Youth and Families Act 2005 </em><span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px; text-align: left;">(Vic.)</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #444444; font-family: helvetica, arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px; text-align: left;">I'm recruiting, anyone interested?</span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8493218779424594194.post-17922870558466055812013-05-29T02:34:00.001+10:002013-05-29T02:34:09.265+10:00new house in pictures<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8493218779424594194.post-77157238464055674762013-05-29T02:07:00.001+10:002013-05-29T02:07:36.740+10:00Not all right on the nightWe moved house on Saturday last week. It started out hilarious and moved to slightly insane, wrapping up in a CAT team and tears.<br />
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So how did this come about?<br />
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My brother is a Store-man for Yakka, a big company with lots of workers, he is a staunch believer in OHandS and takes physical lifting seriously. Our wonderful volunteers are actors, film makers, photographers and writers, and not so experienced with the heavy lifting, and icing on the cake is Hamish's kind hearted but suspected autistic dad. You can guess where this is leading but my brother became frustrated pretty quickly as my friends failed to form even basic rudimentary lines (which is why I love them).<br />
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But my dearest friend on earth, whom I love so very much has been through hell and back, in a series of personal events from a dark place. My friend lost their shit and their calm in a way that was terrifying and unexpected. And I mention this because I want to talk about the pressures on single mums in our society.<br />
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My dearest friend is a single mum and in the same week that Julia Gillard inspired the world with a speech about womyns equality in politics she fist-fucked single mothers and removed their support mechanisms, which were already paltry and replaced them with the Newstart allowance. Essentially dropping their financial support a few hundred dollars and pressuring them to work around the hours that children can attend school. All of the single womyn I know do not own houses. All of their exes do.<br />
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All of the single womyn I know struggle to find or maintain work that does not damage or leave their children vulnerable. And after having a teen, I am convinced that teenagers need just as much attention as toddlers to help them overcome their emotional stuff. <br />
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Just say a womyn came out of a relationship, onto Newstart dealing with heart break and loss of income and job and she worked with him in his business so her career had to be reassessed and realigned and immediately she receives notification from Newstart to seek employment or lose benefits. Just up and do as you're told or the government will smack you for not being good enough to hold on to your partner. NOT FAIR, NOT ON!<br />
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So watching my friends go through this has been heart breaking, struggling to get by, kids who are in the early years of highschool with no childcare options just looking after themselves! Depressing state of affairs, as we again, take from the vulnerable, and this leads to health problems, including mental health and then the burden in on services which in some cases have been underfunded themselves.<br />
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These attacks on the vulnerable need to end!<br />
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And as for my part. I am not moving house again!<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8493218779424594194.post-370134948220850432013-05-14T17:06:00.002+10:002013-05-14T23:15:50.421+10:00Abduction and communities taking back dangerous placesI'm thinking about abduction. Last week a 12 year old boy was apparently close to abduction by a man with a crossing guard uniform in his car. Three women and a little girl were found in the US trapped in an evil man's basement. A flurry of distress and fear. My neighbours and very good friends told me just the other day about her and her girlfriend being harassed at the local park, along Merri Creek in Coburg, while they were exercising. The guy was on a push bike mid morning, with hoodie, and was hiding and watching them, they noticed the bizarre behaviour and the moment escalated when around the oval, he one side, they the other it became a game of cat and mouse; he presumably emboldened by their fear. They won't use the creek again. And this isn't the only story of harassment along the creek I've heard in the passed 12 months. So, there have been a few of these incidences, and people are fearful and lost faith and connection to a common space; what to do? <div><br></div><div>I think that the womyn, men and children who feel affected by this problem, this community violence, should probably get angry. It's a pretty angering situation after all! Taking back spaces is empowering and may knock a bit of boldness out of this and other possible perpetrators of community violence against women and children. </div><div><br></div><div>So how do we take back the space? We claim it, in the areas he and others like him have been hunting, we march with police and media attention, at night with candles and lanterns to 'ward away the darkness'. We walk along the creek and we take it back, we use it - we support others to use it and we leave our presence, chalk messages to these perps perhaps - messages of outrage, anger and power - we post crime stopper pictures under bridges and entry ways to the creek walk and we take back our community space. We tell those selfish, deviant, unwanted perpetrators of sexual violence not to 'move on' but to shape up and that we - as in me and my community, we are watching YOU! <br><div><br></div></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8493218779424594194.post-58384003951952557782013-03-27T00:08:00.001+11:002013-03-27T00:08:41.585+11:00HouseWe bought a house two weeks ago, and we move in in 7 weeks. It's exciting, it's magic, it's a new and awesome beginning! Today a women, who until recently had been our neighbour, died of cancer. She was 30. We knew she was going to die. And it makes the buying of the house seem a wonderful thing to do, a stupid thing to do, and a grand waste of time and resources. BUT, we are going to get bees, and another dog, and play guitar, and sing, and garden, and make art and food, and start a lip balm company, and plant fruit trees, and harvest honey, and raise children, and LIVE, LIVE, LIVE. Because Rel can't, and someone fucking has to. Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8493218779424594194.post-26511858454037754702013-03-11T13:35:00.000+11:002013-03-11T13:35:34.002+11:00Meteors <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I just love meteors and space junk, and volcanoes and trains. But today meteors have my attention </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><a href="http://abcstarstuff.tumblr.com/post/45010852777">IOWA STATE ENGINEERS DEVELOPING IDEAS, TECHNOLOGIES TO SAVE THE EARTH FROM ASTEROIDS</a> cool right?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I also love Bruce Willis and have long been a fan of his movie gusto that results in minimum injuries. Always. And, until now it was in movies that people like Bruce Willis could save the earth from asteroids; or, in fact, partially save the earth, as it wasn't a complete success, was it! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It seems the nerds have finally inherited the earth, and when and if, the time comes that we sit in the path of a meteor bigger than somewhere between a grain of sand and a small star, it will instead be a carefully executed statistical diagnostic rather than muscle and nuclear power, that will save the day. Which is actually quite a relief. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">When I read these articles <a href="http://theconversation.edu.au/meteorite-soars-over-russia-12252">Meteorite soars over russia</a> and <a href="http://theconversation.edu.au/look-out-close-encounters-of-the-asteroidal-kind-12009">Look out close encounters of the asteroidal kind</a> I envision myself as Willis's nerd side-kick planning, with no emotion and enormous situational gravity the last chances of earth. Hurtling toward the meteor in a tin can called 'RUST BUCKET' (or maybe 'Serenity' if I got lucky); glancing back dispassionately at the shrinking earth in the window behind me, in a 'my time has come kinda way' and rushing to address red flashing lights and shout yes commander, 'sir, we have incoming' etc... </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">However, I now daydream myself in an appropriate sized spacecraft with robot arms and finely tuned motor skills fitting rocket boosters onto space rock hurtling with great velocity to earths pending doom, and firing up those beauties, steering them from their path just a few centimetres, probably 50-100 prior to impact, less fanfare, certainly, no impending doom, but so freaking exciting! Where do I sign up! </span><br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8493218779424594194.post-83017741747068643542013-02-13T14:32:00.001+11:002013-02-13T14:32:13.302+11:00Centrelink apocalypseWelcome to hell, should be the signage when you walk into this building, which has virtually maintained its sad brand since the early 80s - only the recently acquired green chairs, which you can tell are new due the lack of stains, still glaringly apparent on the carpet and the walls. This looks like an oversized room that has recently recovered from a conflict in a war-zone. The incredible stench of rotting hope is what really affirms its purpose.<br />
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The people who work here were not the top of their university class, they are public service fodder and they hate us, and look at us like we are responsible for the apathy of the country and it's all our fault that they work in a system that will never change. <br />
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It is fascinating and repulsive in equal measure, the aimless, undefined, unchallenged waiting defies instinctal survival. Our senses are dulling before our eyes and it's Aldous Huxley's Brave New World. We are the dregs of something, although I am grappling with what? I know this resistance is truly futile, for there are threats and cameras everywhere ensuring passivity. <br />
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Out of the corner office, way across the huge open plan space, someone screams, it's a youngish woman and she stumbles out of the doorway and there is blood on her arm and torso. The centrelink staff stiffen and gaze over at us the robotised morning citizens, anticipating a possible response. We are transfixed by their stillness.<br />
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Three 20 year old boys who have talked about themselves for the past hour loudly, are half alarmed, 'um' says one pointing 'is she okay?' I feel the fog slide from my vision, shaking it loose as it's power evaporates, and I turn to them 'have you seen anyone come out of those offices after they've gone in? Call me crazy, but something's not right here'.<br />
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The three boys, grin at each other, on the floor behind their chairs a dismembered arm drags itself passed. We pause. A feeling of horror kicks me in the guts and bile rises in my throat, and it's on. There are centrelink zombies everywhere and they know that we know, the front door reverbarates shut as the industrial glass doors comes together and a zombie hangs a 'back in 20 mins' sign on a sucker hook, turns towards my voice and with slightly more speed than expected bounds in our direction. To my left is a computer bay, and I dive towards it - 'don't get bitten' I yell to the boys and a young blond girl next to me who's alert to the play and watching us with frightened eyes - we all heave printers into a passionate embrace, I throw mine through the air as it slams into the sides of a zombie head, another slams it it the gut - gore flies in a transfixing arc across the 20 people staidly seated, awaiting the call of their name.<br />
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They respond. Some jump up like they've been hit with cold water, the stench makes many gag and a child is screaming - something is thudding on the glass, a group of refugees, they've seen this before, are banging a desk hard into a window, but the windows are government issue and the only unbreakable thing in here.<br />
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People are screaming and the zombies are going wild, I see a stray can of hairspray has rolled out of an abandoned handbag and I dive across the room hearing the clack of teeth just pass my ear. 'Lighter' I yell at one of the boys who is whacking two zombies repeatedly with a flat screen computer 'yuk, he says, 'like I'd smoke', his friend throws me some matches instead 'What?' He responds to his friends shocked face 'I don't smoke, I just light fires'; 'oh, ok' says his friend 'cool'.<br />
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'Later ladies' I yell as the zombie hoard consolidates. Spraying the contents of the can I light it up and the room is aflame, the cheap fabric and filling in the green chairs is highly flammable, the smoke toxic and I briefly reflect the irony that if the zombies don't get us the smoke will, just as quickly the sprinklers kick in and the evacuation process; across the room and on the other side of a bloody puddle of human debris the glass doors open - I have to get out I have two kids to think of - but first. <br />
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I grab a fairly clean zombie and lock her arms behind her back dodging her teeth and drag her to her desk 'which one's your office' I shout hysterically, she is in a frenzy snarling and beyond answering but I force her into the closest office space. I use my scarf to hold her as I search the in trays, pulling the CARER allowance firms from my bloody handbag, I smear a dollop of ear off the top, check the boxes are all ticked and everything signed, I pick up a stamp with approved and stamp the top of both sheets in the office only box, and pop them in the tray for processing that says 'Carers allowance/payments forms'. I pick the printer up off the desk and drop it on the head of the zombie - she stops moving - the boys are still outside in the main foyer, it seems despite the evidence and consequent reservations of quite a few well known studies, the computer game generation is well equipped to take down a pack of zombies, in fact these guys have been inadvertently trained for it, they are having the time of their lives, I briefly wish the kids were here, but I'm glad they're at home because by now they'd be nagging me for snacks, I've been here since 9.03 and it's now 11.27 in the morning.<br />
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I make my way out the doors and there are a dozen or so survivors, we mill about for a minute or two and then make our excuses 'car parked in a 1/2 hour zone' is mine as I gingerly step away, as it's Brunswick no one even notices my bloody clothing. On the windscreen of the Peugeot is a parking fine. On the back it says I'll need to go to their offices in Carlton to contest the fine. I'll go tomorrow, but this time, I'll be packin' my own hairspray, a lighter.<br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8493218779424594194.post-683199163468771872013-02-07T12:15:00.004+11:002013-02-07T12:15:53.365+11:00Michelle Grattan gets conversational <a href="http://theconversation.edu.au/welcome-michelle-grattan-11998">Welcome Michelle Grattan</a><div>
<a href="http://theconversation.edu.au/michelle-grattan-joins-university-of-canberra-and-the-conversation-11931">Michelle Grattan joins university of Canberra and the Conversation </a></div>
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Michelle Grattan, Political Editor of the Age joins the Conversation and will be covering the 2013 election from this very interesting position. I won't comment as to her reasons as you can read them yourself by following the above links, however, why it is of interest to me is because I have long been annoyed by Michelle Grattan and her reporting, which I have always thought WAS NOT BOLD ENOUGH. I call her a huge disappointment as she has had an incredibly important role to play in shaping todays media, and are you happy with todays media? </div>
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Now, Grattan is unhappy with the beast she has helped to shape, and shaken off her conservative laurels she has decided to make a stand. Making a stand a little too late, considering the debris in her wake, where she had the opportunity to stir the people, highlight injustice like the refugee crisis, NT intervention, climate change and impact, and simply make a difference. Grattan is well known as a fact checker, an accurate reporter and a dedicated journalist. Big deal. These basic skills should be the expectation we have of all journalists, all people in positions of responsibility, all people. That Grattan fulfilled the basic expectations of her trade, and held onto her job in a conservative organisation by not rocking the boat is not to be applauded. I certainly look forward to seeing what her impact will be on the Conversation over the election period and how she will add to this already amazing resource? </div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8493218779424594194.post-35330705059732454562013-01-30T17:53:00.002+11:002013-01-30T17:53:21.799+11:00School<span style="color: purple; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">This week Quinn starts at the local autism school, meaning 20 minutes away, and Iggy at, what we think is one of the best schools in the inner city and in fact; its buildings are featured in the cool hunter architectural section as a great place for learning and design! Irrelevant but it's something. The school system has been such a failure for us so far, with so many disappointments that the positives need highlighting. </span><br />
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<span style="color: purple; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">One of our greatest/pathetic schooling moments and believe there have been a plethora, was when Iggy won Discus up to State level. there was no mention in the newsletter, no congratulations at assembly. it was ignored as a part of a campaign to silence parents who caused difficulties for the principal. </span><br />
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<span style="color: purple; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Iggy didn't learn to read until I taught him to, we reinforced mathematics, English and science , music and understanding - he was removed from the philosophy club before the 'finals' apparently didn't make the philosophy 'cut' but was then repeatedly told that he needed to go 'easy' with other kids during sporting sessions. Mediocrity and it's champions, are rife in government schooling. It is unfortunate that many teacher feed this problem with their own anxieties. </span><br />
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<span style="background-color: #d9d2e9;"><span style="color: #383838; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 17px; line-height: 30px;">'While the top performing education nations such as Finland and South Korea draw their teachers from the the top quartile of school leavers (75th percentile or higher), some Australian universities have set their ATAR entry score for this year at </span><a href="http://www.theage.com.au/data-point/teacher-entry-ranking-tumbles-20130117-2cwb5.html" style="color: #557585; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 17px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 30px; outline: none; text-decoration: none; white-space: pre-line; word-wrap: break-word;">45 or even lower</a><span style="color: #383838; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 17px; line-height: 30px;">.'</span></span><br />
<span style="background-color: #d9d2e9;">http://theconversation.edu.au/standards-will-slide-while-teacher-education-is-used-as-a-cash-cow-11677</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white; line-height: 30px;"><span style="color: purple; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">What does this tell us a bout the state of teaching in this country - disgraceful. It is our children that pay the price for Universities to make money.</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: #d9d2e9;">Teacher education is typically the largest undergraduate professional program in most universities and is a significant source of income. Unfortunately, to fill the desired number of places, some universities resort to setting minimum entry scores that are far too low in order to meet student and financial targets. Additionally, when universities experience an overall shortfall in student applications, this “load” is often shifted to teacher education, further driving down entry scores.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #d9d2e9;">This has a number of consequences. Students with higher scores who might otherwise be attracted to teaching feel they are “wasting” their marks if they take on teaching and are in kind deterred. More broadly, lower entry scores reinforce the perceived low status of teachers and teaching.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: #d9d2e9;">Meanwhile, those accepted with low scores will find completing their course challenging and teaching itself difficult. If they do manage to complete their course, they may well end up teaching students who are potential “90+” ATAR candidates, something which presents challenges for both teacher and student.</span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: Times; font-size: small; line-height: normal;">http://theconversation.edu.au/standards-will-slide-while-teacher-education-is-used-as-a-cash-cow-11677</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: purple; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 30px;">Think about the state of education, the complaints, lawsuits, claims lodged at the VEOHRC against teachers and principals and the ever increasing home schooling groups, parents feeling forced to keep their kids at home rather than send them into the jungle and be forced into a very narrow perimeter of behaviour and abilities. The whole system is sad.</span></span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="color: purple; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="line-height: 30px;">However, today despite our past, we are looking forward, the Autism school is a school of excellence where kids can reach their various potential like superstars! Quinn found out today there will be two non-verbal kids in his class this year, and he was already eagerly exploring ideas for different ways of communicating as he and Hamish drove me to work this morning. I don't want him to fit in - I want him to shine, to fall and to climb and for it all to be okay, big mistakes and small, and I think it's going to be ok, for both of them - the skies the limit - not the education system, phew and thank the stars we are out of the mainstream primary school system - now time for specialist schooling and high-school. </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><span style="color: #383838;"><span style="line-height: 30px;"><br /></span></span></span></span>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8493218779424594194.post-26467493087234213352013-01-16T13:18:00.003+11:002013-01-16T16:06:11.970+11:00Climate and diseases - a summary of what's coming this Australian winter...<a href="http://www.science.unsw.edu.au/news/new-strain-norovirus-found">Novovirus article UNSW Science</a><br />
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It's going to be a very interesting winter in Australia 2013 with a chronic gastro virus circling back around from Europe.<br />
I attach here some facts taken directly from the University of New South Wales article on this virus strain.<br />
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<strong style="font-weight: 700;">Norovirus Facts:</strong></div>
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· Norovirus is the leading cause of outbreaks of viral gastroenteritis worldwide, estimated to cause half of all cases globally.</div>
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· It is associated with more than 200,000 deaths per year in frail, immune-compromised or malnourished people.</div>
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· It causes 64,000 episodes of diarrhoea requiring hospitalisation and 900,000 clinic visits amongst children in industrialised countries each year.</div>
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· After one or two days of incubation, signs include acute onset of nausea, vomiting, abdominal cramps and diarrhoea, which last two to three days.</div>
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· Keeping hydrated is extremely important and painkillers can be taken for headaches and aches.</div>
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· Norovirus is spread by contact with an infected person or contaminated surfaces and objects, or through food and fluids.</div>
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· Prevention is the best defence against this virus.</div>
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Interestingly the US has also been hit with a strain of flu virus, although the US government and the WHO are claiming there is no flu pandemic - possibly another media beat up - 'they' say January is a slow news month! However, the reason I bought it up of course is because I wonder what effect global warming is having on communicable diseases this and the tropical disease forum happening with the WHO this year <a href="http://www.bcm.edu/news/item.cfm?newsID=5841">Check out some details of this here</a> - including dengue which has shown it's ugly face in the form of increased outbreaks in last decade in Queensland.<br />
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<a href="http://www.health.qld.gov.au/dengue/outbreaks/previous.asp">Previous dengue outbreaks</a><br />
<a href="http://www.health.qld.gov.au/dengue/outbreaks/current.asp">Current dengue outbreaks</a><br />
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New WHO updates that show the US flu is petering out, not an epidemic or pandemic at all - although interesting to not it's an unlabelled flu strain that's causing so much trouble!<br />
<a href="http://gamapserver.who.int/gareports/Default.aspx?ReportNo=5&Hemisphere=Northern">Updated Northern Hemisphere stats</a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8493218779424594194.post-1901619762931315602012-09-14T11:18:00.002+10:002012-09-14T11:18:47.887+10:00The Biennale Sydney 2012<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I took my 12 year old boy to the 2012 Sydney Biennale on Cockatoo Island, and he got wild photographing enlarged insect penises, licking a giant, interactive sea sculpture, hunting art in darkening tunnels and eating as much junk food as he could beg for from the little cafe.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Art is really great for kids. I believe kids see art like it's life they just haven't found yet, and maybe adults see it more like something we can never really find or interpret in any other way.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Growing up around arty people my kids feel comfortable with art, and I think that's a great place for overcoming pretentious rubbish and really engaging with art and it's possibilities.</span><br />
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<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8493218779424594194.post-84401880463654489362012-09-13T17:23:00.003+10:002012-09-13T17:23:16.883+10:00Grey Gardens<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I watched<a href="http://documentaryheaven.com/grey-gardens/"> </a><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 20px; text-align: left;"><a href="http://documentaryheaven.com/grey-gardens/">Grey Gardens</a> today, and was intrigued and fascinated by the two personalities at the centre of this 1975 documentary film by Albert and David Maysles using a direct camera technique about an elderly </span><span style="background-color: white; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="line-height: 20px;">mother and her middle-aged daughter, the aunt and cousin of Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis, who live their lives in a filthy, decaying mansion in the wealthy East Hamptons; a holiday mecca for the super wealthy from New York. </span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #222222;"><span style="line-height: 20px;">It seems Grey Gardens, as the property was named, is a haven for mental illness and dysfunction, fabulously captured, endearingly sad, voyeuristic and judgemental. </span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 20px;">Edith and little Eadie are strange, especially for the time, nowadays they would have been considered </span></span></span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 20px;">hoarders, with mental illness with an excessive collection of scarves and shoes. Little Eadie is a lost soul, with a distinctive style of speech indicative of a juxtaposed New York Southern Belle. Her ugly series of head scarves with ornate broaches perched dangerously on her head and strange little buttons around the neck, her white designer shoes scuffed and greyed, her laddered stockings and her bathings suits, her pantyhose and disdain for skirts and consequent replacing pantyhose and pinned scarves as pants should paint a picture of a sad creature, paranoid and lost and trapped within the gardens and epic house. Her scarves of course were due to her developing alopecia, which caused all her body hair to fall out.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 20px; text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">In the film the house is depicted as filled with 28 cats and rooms, accompanied by fleas and mosquitos with a tranquil view of the ocean. </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 20px; text-align: left;">Big Eadie was the aunt of Jacqueline Onassis, and after the family were raided for the mess of the house she and her sister stepped in to clean it up and rebuild some of the failing rooms. </span><span style="color: #222222; line-height: 20px; text-align: left;">Big Eadie</span><span style="text-align: left;"> herself had married lawyer Phelan Beale who in left her with three children to raise and no money, the family was left to the financial care of the Bouviers (Jacqueline Onassis grandparents). </span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 20px; text-align: left;">Years after the documentary was made </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; line-height: 20px; text-align: left;">Big Eadie eventually died and little Eadie stayed in the house another two years before selling it. A decrepit figure, with no body </span></span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 20px;">hair, ugly scarves and perfect madness I can imagine Eadie on stage at her cabaret comeback, sixty years old, muddled. A</span></span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; line-height: 20px;"> critic from the New York Times called it a 'public display of </span><span style="color: #222222; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 20px;">ineptitude'. Little Eadie, a young beautiful womyn who debuted on society in 1936 and had it reported in the New York Times also died alone an undiscovered for five days, a not unusual story for a country in ruin. We hear so many stories like this from that giant continent of wealth and poverty, womyn alone and non financial after men walk out on them. Children enabling the abuse and nurturing their parents. </span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #222222; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 20px;">Detroit made people.</span></span></div>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8493218779424594194.post-39524102059242719862011-09-11T00:23:00.001+10:002011-09-11T12:40:04.220+10:00A week in September part IIThursday was marginally better day - the sessions were great, the Takoyaki balls were divine and only $5 per serve and I found a ridiculous pair of fabulous blue feathered earrings for $24 and silver shoes for $15, perfect for the Wiz on Friday night. I've been reading the wonderful <i>The Voice of the Violin</i> - 2003 (<i>La voce del violino</i> - 1997) written by Andrea Camilleri (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Andrea_Camilleri) and I have not enjoyed a book so much for quite a while.<br />
<br />
<i>SEGUE 2</i><br />
<i> My Wuthering Heights reprisal was a bit limp; should be Withering Heights http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wuthering_Heights). I am sorry to say I was again bored to death by this silly book; and I find the character of Heathcliff so freaking unbelievable - I just think it has no weight. Why is it considered a classic? I am disgusted with some interpretations of literature; how can Neil Gaiman not be considered literary yet Jane Eyre's depressive anxious drivel be considered so. Love stories are integral to human nature, as we are so moved by love. But why would anyone write a story so disjointed and confused?</i><br />
<i>DUMB.</i><br />
<i>That was Thursday. </i><br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi66DlZklKWnUfCeTMjoitP_hlhANTccfETygqcoZ2h90L-vJjyPpzsPgue4zX2AXwrf9IxAz6stwt5nkXLA-djxPWY3F8X18pMT9u8hf1tOWy5JLNFbBjLxdE2lHzwJNDOHy17ftf9D67B/s1600/IMG_4193.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="358" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi66DlZklKWnUfCeTMjoitP_hlhANTccfETygqcoZ2h90L-vJjyPpzsPgue4zX2AXwrf9IxAz6stwt5nkXLA-djxPWY3F8X18pMT9u8hf1tOWy5JLNFbBjLxdE2lHzwJNDOHy17ftf9D67B/s640/IMG_4193.JPG" width="640" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Takoyaki Balls and Endamme and 'The voice of the violin' a Montalbano detective model by Andrea Camilleri. </td></tr>
</tbody></table><i> </i>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8493218779424594194.post-4922425351864518702011-09-10T23:46:00.002+10:002011-09-11T12:33:36.997+10:00A week in SeptemberIt's been so long since my last blog, but I feel compelled to write tonight and don't want to bombard Facebook. This week has been momentously busy and I am exhausted by the thought of it but inspired by it's potential. On Monday a vigorous session of chair movement, inspired not by a new exercise craze but a compulsion to volunteer. Amadeo and tolddled off to the fabulous Meatmarket venue, where with mixed feelings we wheeled, stacked-on-ute, drove, unstacked-from-ute, wheeled and unstacked an incalculable (by us) amount of chairs.<br />
<br />
<i>SEGUE 1. </i><br />
<i>Our school is a great space for learning but can be (read is) pretty white and middle-upper class aspirational. This makes it easier for me to come across as crass, rude, overbearing, bossy (middle class white people play emotions pretty cool - a life time of mad Italian relatives has spawned me a critical outlook on cool), a bit of a know-it-all (no defense) and basically avoidable at best. </i> <br />
<br />
Moving chairs the other volunteer white person asks (and this is all paraphrased, I'm nearly 40 my memory is not as good as it was)<br />
'who are your children'?<br />
As I respond unintentionally cryptic 'Michelle Grade 5 and Jill grade 3, no 2' (my children's names are Iggy and Quinn not Michelle and Jill. The farce continues...)<br />
<br />
We unstack another huge grouping of chairs. <br />
<br />
'It looks like it will be a great show'<br />
'yes' I respond 'Iggy complained at first and now he's really into it';<br />
her face is puzzled for a moment<br />
'Iggy?' she queries 'is that the name of one of your girls?'<br />
I look at her incredulous<br />
'no Iggy is my son's name';<br />
'do you have a son as well?' she says<br />
'no just Iggy and Quinn'<br />
'Oh, I thought you had daughters, I thought their names were Michelle and Jill?'<br />
'What? That's their teachers names'<br />
<br />
And then Amadeo steps in with 'when you said their names were Michelle and Jill I wasn't sure why so I didn't say anything, I didn't know what you were up to'.<br />
The white lady looks hard at the dodgy wog duo and walks as quickly away as politeness will allow.<br />
<br />
About 20 minutes later, all is forgiven; Amadeo and I have sweated profusely (being unsuited and unused to physical labour of any kind, ever) and eaten an entire, massive $7 bag of Cheesels from Costco and frankly I'm flying on a fake cheese high. We start counting the chairs 16 x 8 for the top isle section and another 200 or so on the floor - Amadeo hears 16 x 8 and quickly calculates it to 332 and I chime in with absolute certainty - that is actually far from absolute, 'oh yes 332, he's very good at maths'. 16x8 is 128, and she knew it. <br />
<br />
Well, that was Monday.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8txylz_Gj8Wzg8DB8OiPXF30nIQGXK73lz8gHFQDBae571zubs3EV_yK3lk_6eu1-ha8fVQTqTTya_M0-O2lSJXls14ING8QslmrgCffSQz-w4Z2EIMWBvMVsiEuRrz28mY803afa5dTP/s1600/IMG_4156.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8txylz_Gj8Wzg8DB8OiPXF30nIQGXK73lz8gHFQDBae571zubs3EV_yK3lk_6eu1-ha8fVQTqTTya_M0-O2lSJXls14ING8QslmrgCffSQz-w4Z2EIMWBvMVsiEuRrz28mY803afa5dTP/s400/IMG_4156.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The BEPS school choir</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Tuesday was the school concert. It was brilliant, the kids were enthused, excited, and inspired and it showed in the performance. The heightened state led my two emotionally unstable gems to either side of the emotional spectrum, but as we were in school hours I tactfully avoided my own children and maintained my dignity as the choirmaster. The initial performance during the day had the practice backing track behind it that was slightly flat, and the flatness was evident to me immediately. Mortified we battled on and by the time the evening performance the backing track CD was nowhere to be found, I think the principal kindly disposed of it for me and the children's voices were allowed to shine. The initial choir performance in the matinee session consisted of approx 12-15 children as the preps were in their own performance at the time. By the last session at the evening performance the choir had expanded to approximately 45-50 children and we barely fit the stage. Some of the children I had never seen in my life and I asked them 'have you been to choir before?' and innocently some would respond 'I did once' and I think that was enough really. I commend enthusiasm and live on it like oxygen so I was easily swayed - and the sound was tremendous, the faces shone and 'Yonder come day' blared from the interestingly positioned mics and blew the audience of proud mums and dads away!<br />
<br />
And that was Tuesday.<br />
<br />
Wednesday morning Quinn was booked last minute to go under anesthetic and have two teeth pulled making the fortnights worth three teeth in total. The cost $1400; though we were more worried about the anesthetic and it's effects. However, I was booked on an 11am flight to Sydney and left home at 9am to make it through the horrid morning airport traffic (been there before). Dad was in charge and I was off.<br />
<br />
What happened next is best in list format:<br />
LOVELY taxi driver<br />
Made the flight no problem<br />
Didn't get paid, so had no money<br />
Stupidly caught train instead of cab, therefore arrived at random station got lost and caught a cab on George street fro approx. two minutes infuriating cab driver<br />
Credit card didn't work so hotel was going to abandon booking<br />
Hotel kept booking and let me stay on promise from bosses PA to pay via work credit card<br />
Hotel lift broke down and trapped me for twenty minutes then deposited me on ground floor<br />
I carried heavy suitcase back to reception on second floor and cried<br />
Hotel room right near smokers exit, bathroom smelled like smoke the whole evening<br />
A bottle of water was $4.50<br />
Got to conference - was wrong day - wasn't supposed to be there til Thursday - so I pretended I meant it<br />
Had to wait 3 hours on Darling Harbor, where the food sucks and is super expensive <br />
Forgot to bring my book and became physically ill after reading Sydney's equivalent to the Herald Scum.<br />
No one spoke to me at the cocktail dinner, left early<br />
All canapes were dairy and I'm severely lactose intolerant.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgck2XdFPT1-w_UbOk-1sPzm8G2nhgn2nnRVzIOM5Q0yCP1sR1Hxkjr8m9GFyAw4GzAfAjqSXKsY3LoId8AV9mpO6Mnr3zfrela6yonZkSUi1AA1XfnVc2Pmi4sBYubAHu-a8c7jY8gW_tx/s1600/IMG_4181.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="223" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgck2XdFPT1-w_UbOk-1sPzm8G2nhgn2nnRVzIOM5Q0yCP1sR1Hxkjr8m9GFyAw4GzAfAjqSXKsY3LoId8AV9mpO6Mnr3zfrela6yonZkSUi1AA1XfnVc2Pmi4sBYubAHu-a8c7jY8gW_tx/s400/IMG_4181.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Me at Darling Harbour - the only part of Sydney I saw in three days.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
That was Wednesday. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8493218779424594194.post-63503568270492846052011-06-27T18:04:00.000+10:002011-06-27T18:04:39.746+10:00Happy birthday Iggy 2011<h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}" style="font-size: x-large;">To the golden dragon; </span></h6><h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}" style="font-size: x-large;">Happy birthday piglet.</span></h6><h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}" style="font-size: x-large;"> Your flicky hair, your scowly smile, your sweet embrace, your emo style. Your huge ass feet, you're a burgeoning teen, but not quite yet - you're still in between.</span></h6><h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}" style="font-size: x-large;">Mumma. OUT. </span></h6><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9mRlIzhowsKMAZtAZfiUNKJe8yY8Iqa28pxBMzBtXx03mESYWigQ23Oxd3oYoQBSWLq7YloE2HxsTqjEqOaLoYmontPpBNIq53Na4Ndax02cv3lsjXlOmNu3usUwdcv3n9wuqlZSt8Rz4/s1600/IMG_1120.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9mRlIzhowsKMAZtAZfiUNKJe8yY8Iqa28pxBMzBtXx03mESYWigQ23Oxd3oYoQBSWLq7YloE2HxsTqjEqOaLoYmontPpBNIq53Na4Ndax02cv3lsjXlOmNu3usUwdcv3n9wuqlZSt8Rz4/s320/IMG_1120.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}" style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}" style="font-size: x-large;"> </span></h6><h6 class="uiStreamMessage" data-ft="{"type":1}"><span class="messageBody" data-ft="{"type":3}"> </span></h6>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8493218779424594194.post-41034112297899797672011-05-16T13:22:00.000+10:002011-05-16T13:22:16.389+10:00MaxTwelve years ago, we found a dog, we named him Max. He was a mangy fellow, mistreated, underweight, and he looked old even then, the vet approximated he was only four-six.<br />
<br />
So began the business of healing. Every night Hamish would make Max a mix of chicken and rice to help him gain weight, we brushed his coat repeatedly and we loved him. Personality flourished in quick succession to adoration and he cemented himself into our lives.<br />
<br />
He's had a good life, and he shared it with us.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhP6pK1xglEGLxR_Ugxj3lScNZVJJ2D7_o1a9RAzrBBtdd6v456xis_4oRrhvjNhjmMZ1qOpgloWwyGhMtA-ydGUpO1N8AT-VsS7OtOlOdUIHr8fDgmQowP5LR03kSDF2EQNuL2iGl3p_0/s1600/IMG_1603.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhP6pK1xglEGLxR_Ugxj3lScNZVJJ2D7_o1a9RAzrBBtdd6v456xis_4oRrhvjNhjmMZ1qOpgloWwyGhMtA-ydGUpO1N8AT-VsS7OtOlOdUIHr8fDgmQowP5LR03kSDF2EQNuL2iGl3p_0/s320/IMG_1603.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Max - the day he passed away</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
When I was pregnant the smell of Max drove me wild, he was always a stinker. However, he would come to me in the evenings and gently rest his head on my swelling belly and hold it there. When the children were born, one by one; he was a dog in shock and he would make a beeline through the house swerving around the children with a nonchalance and swagger of ownership and pretense, simply put there were no children in his eyes and it took a good while for him to admit their existence.<br />
<br />
At Iggy's first birthday Max become the stuff of suburban family folklore when he not only gobbled half the birthday cake in an unguarded moment, but also when Iggy, nappy whipped off and poohed and Max gobbled that up as well in amongst the well-wishers who were quick to abandon their plates food; yes we are white trash and so it seems was Max!<br />
<br />
Once cemented firmly in our lives Max showed fierce loyalty and resulting separation anxiety, his hysterical barking and distress outside Preston Safeway was memorable, for us and staff and shoppers, people would gather around him as he yelled and screamed like a dog abandoned and I would be forced to either leave him there or nonchalantly break the crowd barrier with my huge belly, bend awkwardly and untie him while avoiding public eye contact and walk him home again. Now days I care much less about the opinions of others, as always did Max, over Easter on his final family holiday we parked him outside the Moonembel pub where he carried on despite his 16 years of age, barking and whining even though we came back, we always came back.<br />
<br />
Max has picnicked at Hanging Rock, Coburg Lake and swam the length of Melbourne's Merri Creek; he has swam at Williamstown, Altona, Sandy Point, Walkerville and Deb's dam in Barkly many times, but his heart belonged to Merri Creek; and to hell and back he would follow Hamish, and I have never seen a dog more devoted.<br />
<br />
Max seemed to be able to eat with all of his face at one time, his presence still haunts Oscar who growls through his entire dinner for fear of theft; even though Max hasn't eaten in the same space as him for years.<br />
<br />
Max was a noble dog, he has always protected the household, from the flighty bantam chicken to Princess Chocolate the cat, he caught many mice, killed lots of pigeons and fought off other dogs, cats and intruders in his day.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidDnJHpzd3iOFNDeCyY0IeyRm9HWMtp1E1g74nALWg5glQeeL85aKpXKrrOhS4qcT4kN3UzASA8_JC-PRH09ZoAwpFthLSxw67itf8_VSRHguCNP3Lfs7_nI1fM2I_RMfr5Qzcc3Ukwgll/s1600/IMG_1641.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidDnJHpzd3iOFNDeCyY0IeyRm9HWMtp1E1g74nALWg5glQeeL85aKpXKrrOhS4qcT4kN3UzASA8_JC-PRH09ZoAwpFthLSxw67itf8_VSRHguCNP3Lfs7_nI1fM2I_RMfr5Qzcc3Ukwgll/s320/IMG_1641.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Max's last day...<br />
</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
Animals teach us so much about ourselves, they trust us implicitly and make us trustworthy in turn.<br />
<br />
Today we put Max too sleep forever; the children, Hamish and me. His ragged breathing gently ceased as he looked intently at our faces not breaking eye contact until his heart and mind slowed to a stop.<br />
Goodbye Max. You were so loved and will be remembered. He'll be cremated and we'll spread his ashes at his favorite place along Merri Creek in Coburg.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8493218779424594194.post-33040919315322301912011-03-07T23:40:00.000+11:002011-03-07T23:40:17.764+11:00Snapshot<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5xB9vdv0IuKjEMfgV-8fV2lA7gtEDEUHtT9puYYr1x4QCNrRAh5wijKBU33X_6dlNqOSaDl8ZWHArvNwZb7nXCjZ1LXeJmVwSMSmrAvYi0MKRdLfGE8-lsPHVF9c4lnVCZtLptSeKAgod/s1600/IMG_4758.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5xB9vdv0IuKjEMfgV-8fV2lA7gtEDEUHtT9puYYr1x4QCNrRAh5wijKBU33X_6dlNqOSaDl8ZWHArvNwZb7nXCjZ1LXeJmVwSMSmrAvYi0MKRdLfGE8-lsPHVF9c4lnVCZtLptSeKAgod/s320/IMG_4758.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Quinn drawing on the inside of the box to give back to CERES Fair Food.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN0XxZgxlYNU4eNxyYdyXPrYIXnkwxHdy0Z_GpAZhg3cKOgVx9pX3xf5xVYLt-mJ-oV8IyWY6q04DUswqVa3Aa8Y9SEU9GrUqTVHxYcOtOEqJKl9WNH6Rk_GFFRM8d-jyn9eYgySS7DlCM/s1600/IMG_4764.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgN0XxZgxlYNU4eNxyYdyXPrYIXnkwxHdy0Z_GpAZhg3cKOgVx9pX3xf5xVYLt-mJ-oV8IyWY6q04DUswqVa3Aa8Y9SEU9GrUqTVHxYcOtOEqJKl9WNH6Rk_GFFRM8d-jyn9eYgySS7DlCM/s320/IMG_4764.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Super favorite track-pants that also act as a onesie.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDBuunruzTTwItkEFreAQgx58uHVJPSPqPT5nM_PGSkY01_qJ4awhHmNGIvDDg505aW1Rrn-IfGhQZ_yLsiQ8lT20Y2C6-kKSqpYaaiglTB3yJ7WCeHNjFl4cpKfQc6jTrqaoLRLjtL0SU/s1600/IMG_4753.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDBuunruzTTwItkEFreAQgx58uHVJPSPqPT5nM_PGSkY01_qJ4awhHmNGIvDDg505aW1Rrn-IfGhQZ_yLsiQ8lT20Y2C6-kKSqpYaaiglTB3yJ7WCeHNjFl4cpKfQc6jTrqaoLRLjtL0SU/s320/IMG_4753.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Scribbling and gluing and making patterns all over the box for CERES.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQJvgdrHvb97UQe_iRKKabADNv0cTqsOmn_e4DSKPki-taImxNWChSV-IPciEAPfvAfB4qX5yKiGBw0IVUaDffH5pq9UVTJTIqbxMsIhRdFeX5yjPiJIq5E156xWODWx0Rw09UXL7fLUKt/s1600/IMG_4572.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQJvgdrHvb97UQe_iRKKabADNv0cTqsOmn_e4DSKPki-taImxNWChSV-IPciEAPfvAfB4qX5yKiGBw0IVUaDffH5pq9UVTJTIqbxMsIhRdFeX5yjPiJIq5E156xWODWx0Rw09UXL7fLUKt/s320/IMG_4572.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Iggy and Eb; old friends, new places. </td></tr>
</tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px;">Qu</span></span></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNztnagq_C7hthXV3Zs3-Bn8QZlaJG0rILCjdXQz4hOJDKEhsWvf1heVhEQ20sm6MjfJCuwqoRxxne0y0WTD4G4hBcfUCv6SDJeOGP7CkW03YGkh5BiPIjj0nc7w8CsPYfXvrJJ7C7sQvU/s1600/IMG_4710.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNztnagq_C7hthXV3Zs3-Bn8QZlaJG0rILCjdXQz4hOJDKEhsWvf1heVhEQ20sm6MjfJCuwqoRxxne0y0WTD4G4hBcfUCv6SDJeOGP7CkW03YGkh5BiPIjj0nc7w8CsPYfXvrJJ7C7sQvU/s320/IMG_4710.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yellow cherry tomato one of MANY!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5CKnyqC0SlJKOWLLZBlhY8PTAMF7Mty2dt9hfByzHt170GJ7-fZrWejhEPbh5PLRdoDNLZCdIofyjYOWD18arSGMR3fxJcuE4djIanbavAdcLkoCFot0dq8mp3xv2wIVdKj_7etZP4CNt/s1600/IMG_4752.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5CKnyqC0SlJKOWLLZBlhY8PTAMF7Mty2dt9hfByzHt170GJ7-fZrWejhEPbh5PLRdoDNLZCdIofyjYOWD18arSGMR3fxJcuE4djIanbavAdcLkoCFot0dq8mp3xv2wIVdKj_7etZP4CNt/s320/IMG_4752.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Quinn's art draw goes anywhere.</td></tr>
</tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLhZnC0F3acbM4hYmptY56-_-C5HKy21tnF2Wq86puApD8HqkJoohSXDB5BqpmfOnrbDnSNDjKEF1Gj-a-m-RYaWErD0HrFXDHm7ht4XQmIugLpTVDjjm8AEOWQ8TQ_9Ga9ld8v2XCz1a4/s1600/IMG_4706.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLhZnC0F3acbM4hYmptY56-_-C5HKy21tnF2Wq86puApD8HqkJoohSXDB5BqpmfOnrbDnSNDjKEF1Gj-a-m-RYaWErD0HrFXDHm7ht4XQmIugLpTVDjjm8AEOWQ8TQ_9Ga9ld8v2XCz1a4/s320/IMG_4706.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My blushing girls and a happy egg hide in my skirt for the inside relocation.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8493218779424594194.post-47893584149035619532011-02-13T23:44:00.000+11:002011-02-13T23:44:40.683+11:00today is the greatest...Awesome day today - one of those days that cures you of days that are not so awesome :)<br />
Naabi and the kids; Jem, Mirjam and Noah; and Heidi and Billie'O came for lunch - a vego BBQ with the mostest and the fare was delectable and approved by children aged one and half to 10.<br />
<br />
I made pumpkin and ricotta pastry parcels - simple; and a flan/pie/frittata type dish made of short-crust pastry, fresh eggs from the chookies, lovely organic tomatoes from both Heidi's garden and CERES, olives, cheese, basil from the garden, and bake - it's a colorful dish! Then the chocolate and chia muffins I've been making regularly that have no fats or sugars - the chocolate is Jasper drinking cocoa which is 85% cocoa - sweetened with honey - and a lemon meringue pie!<br />
<br />
Zin and Enk stayed for a few hours with us and we played Monolpoly - copious amounts of Wii; soccer, soccer and soccer - and ate; and soccer :)<br />
<br />
Sometimes to be exhausted, and active, and fulfilled - just what you need.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8493218779424594194.post-80368684146393096132011-02-11T19:27:00.000+11:002011-02-11T19:27:18.606+11:00making bread when it rains<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsxzK4Qza8YhGxeg7GQ4B6J34Z0HLRKkJCCjqTWJIZOPldGXR1hextoXnsih6dnNyHl_2kVS6bvV_XBSqPC7A0QgyUAX6gfmLF8vsxDgDWfPFnb1WNH2sHk7NNDp3nTF5w2IkdY9QOW7C2/s1600/P1000874.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsxzK4Qza8YhGxeg7GQ4B6J34Z0HLRKkJCCjqTWJIZOPldGXR1hextoXnsih6dnNyHl_2kVS6bvV_XBSqPC7A0QgyUAX6gfmLF8vsxDgDWfPFnb1WNH2sHk7NNDp3nTF5w2IkdY9QOW7C2/s320/P1000874.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lamington cupcakes - lunchbox special!</td></tr>
</tbody></table><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhugiMqXocen7cDqVQ7qSZILTQcz9_rLLhUZDG12OvUuB-Guf3USUjQammGv1NfPqRL58OvNkisKYIUHwamvUnQJqAoWoAs0o_Q7QTdtbjD0ur9W0z5crWduv1RmiBC8pgT9qdcLQI9vZbw/s1600/P1000831.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhugiMqXocen7cDqVQ7qSZILTQcz9_rLLhUZDG12OvUuB-Guf3USUjQammGv1NfPqRL58OvNkisKYIUHwamvUnQJqAoWoAs0o_Q7QTdtbjD0ur9W0z5crWduv1RmiBC8pgT9qdcLQI9vZbw/s320/P1000831.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hot guys reading books shot :)</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQSWvxYTuPZ6uNmmAzwLnaQ8MZ_WM5kYliytVgxg8ypTnvj_7HrJZHC1GiCRZiXE0sxgn-St5rgOXMVCAQYqerBb5-6fJnnYjczybzg13UjvsBCJsUz1vkIn76I3C0-xG63P640-emBp5g/s1600/P1000823.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQSWvxYTuPZ6uNmmAzwLnaQ8MZ_WM5kYliytVgxg8ypTnvj_7HrJZHC1GiCRZiXE0sxgn-St5rgOXMVCAQYqerBb5-6fJnnYjczybzg13UjvsBCJsUz1vkIn76I3C0-xG63P640-emBp5g/s320/P1000823.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Eb, Ig, Kiana, Quinn and Tali</td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3Kebz-JVs1EKCqtKjQFhbor4Ko3StZgDpJ2jDyB7Dnuj55xgm6SDBX5FbAyo3YXn8Wa7AX18V-Xmkj1SsXCRAmeFiPY13G_N6_RpeuF0JTR2HIh_f8yr4zcDzrmskfzUCSa_hNgUCECxk/s1600/P1000828.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3Kebz-JVs1EKCqtKjQFhbor4Ko3StZgDpJ2jDyB7Dnuj55xgm6SDBX5FbAyo3YXn8Wa7AX18V-Xmkj1SsXCRAmeFiPY13G_N6_RpeuF0JTR2HIh_f8yr4zcDzrmskfzUCSa_hNgUCECxk/s320/P1000828.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigIThaFNKMiEt9As1R2yqzHVb_BbU2WkMVRzgWVNQlVOXxBz0B0Kh4LPPVHBQrrDth1mVXNIJ1XZxGTQzbrnU3XM94nCPRP-EQXgjeOb35jApwu2y1QhOk_xfmSnzJNa06sfZh0MUDeGVr/s1600/P1000770.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigIThaFNKMiEt9As1R2yqzHVb_BbU2WkMVRzgWVNQlVOXxBz0B0Kh4LPPVHBQrrDth1mVXNIJ1XZxGTQzbrnU3XM94nCPRP-EQXgjeOb35jApwu2y1QhOk_xfmSnzJNa06sfZh0MUDeGVr/s320/P1000770.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Carmen and Laura</td></tr>
</tbody></table>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8493218779424594194.post-1714222566112253162011-02-06T22:28:00.002+11:002011-02-06T23:37:59.019+11:00Blowing winds, the roof is on fire and the black dog has a bad cough<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGdggnpr8XX3l9i6pa5xgRoNjWaK788yELrhulAUQNRL0o9xCcleGJx8WniE_B5hdcFq7HWhLOiZw_xTFVewSFJAGjfjE1prFkMoGwnFtUS2bLozccK7BDjZRUhl9VhKCwQUAKFO1q49u0/s1600/41525_841314635_1073539_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGdggnpr8XX3l9i6pa5xgRoNjWaK788yELrhulAUQNRL0o9xCcleGJx8WniE_B5hdcFq7HWhLOiZw_xTFVewSFJAGjfjE1prFkMoGwnFtUS2bLozccK7BDjZRUhl9VhKCwQUAKFO1q49u0/s1600/41525_841314635_1073539_n.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Deb's fantastic letter box.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>It's been an interesting week this week, I tell you. On Wednesday night the kids, Carlos and myself marched to EK and 108 Sterling Drive - the house of the giant rabbit letterbox which apparently has local bus commuters hanging out the windows - Deb has mosaicked an Alice in Wonderland inspired, four foot, 3D white rabbit into a letterbox and EVERYBODY'S talking about it! They can only imagine what the indie looks like, every wall, floor space, table space, cupboard and shelf is devoted to art, sculpture, and fabric and related tools. Our purpose for this cross suburban trek was to visit our wonderful old friend; mad artist Deb Harmon otherwise known as DHQ and her screen printing prowess. Iggy's response to screen printing had been lackluster earlier in the day; however, when we got there he started coming up with ideas and feeling really inspired; he finally came up with (DRAMATIC PAUSE) a question mark! And for two days straight he wore my old green t-shirt with a red question mark printed on the front, all day and all night until it smelled so bad I washed it!<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2m1ba5moPaTJOzjjn5aL7CmT2-Ui70UOw4w3amm7XXyoedf2iNC7SCSuJuBfclHpBDsuKUkpCSKS0fHuYlwqj-xF0rTJGa74lt-cH7K-6jGwl_x-9fdqqXCYHLlmEJFBRoUZqmLptuuYC/s1600/74409_462258384635_841314635_5340581_8294795_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2m1ba5moPaTJOzjjn5aL7CmT2-Ui70UOw4w3amm7XXyoedf2iNC7SCSuJuBfclHpBDsuKUkpCSKS0fHuYlwqj-xF0rTJGa74lt-cH7K-6jGwl_x-9fdqqXCYHLlmEJFBRoUZqmLptuuYC/s320/74409_462258384635_841314635_5340581_8294795_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">One of the amazing outside walls of Deb's house.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeSij7brL6UF2cK2FpQWBsOiHXBj5fO5ubHABFiQgMhwJWBiZLKY8T-a2oF7LHk04N-bJrjgQLM8eGBNshAe5WrdGFuH6s_ehVehF6joux75WK4YzVYBvR5OcCvVhjPl4YxCzoWFVzdHbi/s1600/76573_462256624635_841314635_5340560_7788671_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeSij7brL6UF2cK2FpQWBsOiHXBj5fO5ubHABFiQgMhwJWBiZLKY8T-a2oF7LHk04N-bJrjgQLM8eGBNshAe5WrdGFuH6s_ehVehF6joux75WK4YzVYBvR5OcCvVhjPl4YxCzoWFVzdHbi/s320/76573_462256624635_841314635_5340560_7788671_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ms DHQ herself in the spring/summer garden with mosaics behind.<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Later that evening I switched on the TV and stayed glued for hours to the cyclone news. About 10 p.m. my sister posted me a message on FB that my uncle Peter, who lives in Mackay had called his wife my aunt who was staying with my mum and dad and was feeling frightened - this really made me feel the events more keenly; the recent Brisbane floods had me feeling the same way. I barely slept a wink worrying about a dear friend of our little group who was with her partner and son in Brisbane during that event, we felt so helpless. </span></td></tr>
</tbody></table><br />
The outcome is that Halliday Bay where they live was barely touched by the cyclone - the winds would have been extraordinary; however these guys are so used to extreme weather events the house was prepared; so that's great.<br />
<br />
I suspect these events are just the beginning...<br />
<br />
<b>Getting to the dog </b>Maxy is ill - he's had a cough for three, maybe four weeks. The vet had him in for a whole day of testing on Friday and has explained to us that he has a dramatic shadow on his lungs that is not an infection, therefore a tumor. He has left it with us to make a final decision as Max's cough increases - which is of course means putting our loyal friend to sleep forever.<br />
Iggy has cried and cried.<br />
<br />
Roller-skating Saturday<br />
After roller-skating in Sunshine we dropped in to see mum and dad - three weeks ago mum fell down the back steps and broke both her ankles - and say goodbye to Auntie Joan who is leaving for QLD Monday morning. Just about to leave and the house two doors up catches on fire - a multitude of dramas followed in quick succession, all witnessed by the three children in my care. The air-conditioning unit was a apparently faulty and the fellow that there noticed a smoke smell climbed on the roof and found the fire - by this time he had moved his wife and two small children from the house and to the long driveway - he worked to douse the flames with his home hose; however, he was unsuccessful and called on neighbors including my dad - the fire-brigade was also called and eight trucks quickly filled the street and our car was blocked into the court for the next few hours.<br />
<br />
By the time we got home last night poor Iggy was emotionally frazzled; he had had enough of dramas - he doesn't cope with unusual, unplanned events at the best of times, but he'll get by - learn to be stronger and more resilient - he'll have to be for this new world with such ever-changing dramatic environmental uncertainty. This is the generation at the front line of a new and changing world; a world we have no prediction model for. This is the generation who will hopefully have the technological nouse to save out planet - now wouldn't that be something!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8493218779424594194.post-32978064769436781272011-01-29T00:32:00.001+11:002011-01-29T00:33:35.651+11:00Invasion day... Australia day<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">I find Australia Day a pain in my heart and a terrible reminder of the invasion and subsequent abuse and cultural genocide that followed of the first peoples. Australia Day could encapsulate so many things if only it were truly an event or ideology shared by all.</span><br />
<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">http://www.aussieeducator.org.au/tertiary/subjects/history/australian/culture.html is a website coordinated by a group who call themselves Aussie Educator they define Australian culture as follows:</span></div><div></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">'</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, 'Trebuchet MS', Geneva, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;">Australia has many things in common with the rest of the world, though there are several parts of our national identity and culture which are peculiar to us. ... They include emphasis on physical as opposed to mental achievement, the concept of</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, 'Trebuchet MS', Geneva, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, 'Trebuchet MS', Geneva, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;"><em>mateship</em></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, 'Trebuchet MS', Geneva, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;">, Australian idiom, language and humour. The embracing of the concept of multiculturalism is also covered. Be aware that any culture and national identity is always changing.'</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Verdana, 'Trebuchet MS', Geneva, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 18px;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">This small minded idea of identity holds us back and retards our growth permanently as we have steadfastly held on to the 'iconic' mate-ship slogan and the idea that colloquial language is unique and a particular identifier of Australian-ness we have ignored other potential identifiers, therefore limiting our growth potential (appropriate colloquialism being Tall Poppy Syndrome).</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><br />
</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><b>Australia's Day</b></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Her name in 2011 was Wednesday but she answers to Australia, or Aussie.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">She's draped in cloth. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Fabric? Polyester. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Her face planted in a poisonous garden, sweet red lips connecting her to another drunken face. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">She walks the monster halls of St Kilda. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">A sea of parting wolves pick the carrion from her feet as she stumbles through the night leaving unacknowledged carnage.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Her bright blue eyes a dazzling contrast to the red whites. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;">Her ill-fitting dress, pinned together with pinches of skin leave slight brown stains of dried blood on finely woven chunks of plastic. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">The creases of her mouth and the hurried movement means she's hungry, and lives ebb in and our of her void and she sucks and sits and vomits and drinks.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">She is ill, Australia. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">Her blood hair has black roots. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">She is drunk with rage, alcohol and frustration. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">She is dry and cracked and her skin is peeling like worn wall paper in a rental house.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">Her youth is a pretense, she's mine I know her. But I don't. </span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 18px;">And what I don't see is </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; line-height: 18px;">a magic shimmer. Under that skin is law and country and blood, and blood and blood. Under that ruckled paper skin is something ancient, wise and mysterious, raw and angry. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace; line-height: 18px;">She smells like gum trees and her words are lyrical, easygoing and no worries. And I lie these to myself at night as she rages in my white dreaming and drowns me like a rat.</span></div><div></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: 18px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Courier New', Courier, monospace;"><br />
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</span></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0