This Is My Truth, Tell Me Yours.

New Digs

noreply@blogger.com (Keri) — Sat, 16 Jul 2011 05:47:00 +0000

I'm not sure what's going to be happening at this blog, but I do have a new blog

See you there.

Surefire way to get me to write a blogpost

noreply@blogger.com (Keri) — Wed, 06 Apr 2011 07:27:00 +0000

Hacking my Google account seems to be the easiest way, apparently.

Round about 2pm this afternoon, I got an email from someone asking why I was commenting on a website I said I would no longer comment on.

Red flags went up. I haven't commented anywhere on anything since last night, and that was on a blog post about a Kindle. What comments?

Before I got a chance to reply, I got an email through to my iphone, with a comment left on my blog. By me. From MY Google account. Alarms were now sounding. I haven't written anything at all on this blog for months.

I immediately turned to the fount of all knowledge technical, Twitter, and asked if anyone knew if there was a way of using someones Google account to leave comments - people have left comments in my name before, but they've never included my picture, or linked to my profile, or sent a freaking email back to me - other than hacking someones account. Before the answers even started coming back (CHANGE YOUR PASSWORD, CHANGE IT NOW. LOG THEM OUT), Jeremy rang me asking if I had sent him an email, the text of which was "How do put up with me being such a fat, whiny, bitch" or words to the effect.

I tried to log into my Google account, and the password had been changed. Worse still, I couldn't reset the account using my alternate email, because I've forgotten the blinking password.

Luckily, Google suspended the account, and on me providing enough information to identify me (Actually, they requested enough information to be able to write my obituary, wedding speech or dating profile), reset it. Looks like whoever it was got in through the security password, which to my shame turns out it's fairly easy to guess.

The message here? I have sent one personal email today from my gmail account, and that was to Jeremy. If you received an email from me today, it was not from me. If someone spoke to you on Gmail chat, it was not from me. If a comment has been left on your blog, it was not from me.

Oh, and check your security question. It doesn't matter how secure your password is if your security question is a doddle.

Who gets to decide what a family is?

noreply@blogger.com (Keri) — Thu, 06 Jan 2011 22:46:00 +0000

Families come in all forms. Young married people with children, biological or adopted, same-sex couples, unmarried parents, grandparents or extended families living in a cohesive family unit, seperated and divorced couples raising their children separately, re-married couples with children from multiple marriages....

I think you get the drift.

If you look at the the organisations out there who claim to speak for families, they're by-and-large talking about one type of family; man, woman, children. There's no room for anyone else at the Christian Value Family table. Same-sex and raising a child? Nope, sorry, one of you needs to have the opposing genitals to the other. Don't ask why. Divorced and parenting co-operatively? Nope, you're ruining society with your children from broken homes. Unmarried and parenting with no rings in sight? Don't you realise that a marriage certificate makes you a much better parent? There's a secret instruction manual handed out on the Big Day!

As far as I am concerned, the only people who get to decide what a family unit is (or even what the best family unit for their particular situation) is the family concerned. All very well for the God Squad to preach from the plinth what is best for society (usually based on studies that do not stand up to any kind of scrutiny, or based on "self-evident" truths); the rest of us live in the real world. The world where more than half of marriages result in divorce, where same-sex parents have been demonstrated by several long-term studies to be as good at parenting as heterosexual parents, where more and more parents are parenting equally, either from the necessity of needing two wages or the realization that Dads are just as able to raise a child as a mother (sans breastfeeding, of course).

Families are awesome. They're an endless source of support, camaraderie, learning and love. My own family wouldn't fit into the Australian Family Associations incredibly narrow definition of a family. My parents are re-married, I have five step-siblings, and I'm engaged to a raving lefty, and we firmly intend to share the parenting responsibilities equally when the time comes.

Further, we don't live like we used to. I grew up in a mining town in Wales, and my great-aunt lived three doors down, my other great-aunt lived a street away, a third great-aunt lived a street further up and my aunt was also within walking distance. We wandered in an out of each others houses and some of the closest bonds I have to this day are with my great-aunts and second-cousins. Families lived closer, and the family "unit" was larger, and included a greater diversity of extended relatives. The old adage "It takes a village to raise a child" has never been more true, but the availability and willingness of that village to get involved isn't there anymore. The inter-generational care and bonds dilute as we live further away from each other, and place more and more responsibility on the primary care-giver of a child (usually the mother) for the upbringing of children. Further narrowing the definition of a family adds to that pressure. We need to step in and step up with each other more. I want my children to have that same bond I have with my aunts and uncles and cousins. It's sad that we're losing that as a society.

The motives for keeping the definition of Family "Pure" are fairly obvious. Take the Australian Family Association as an example. On their "Your state" page for Victoria? Links on how to elect Pro-Life MPs and "Protecting religious freedom in Victoria". On their main page is a link to their current campaign on preventing Euthanasia and Assisted Suicide.

All well and good, they're entitled to lobby for whatever they like, but I don't see anything, anywhere declaring them to be an organisation based on religious values. It's not anywhere. The aim? You don't associate them with any church, or religion, you associate these views (These religiously informed views) with "Family". I also see nothing encouraging an increase in funding and awareness campaigns for parents of intellectually and physically disabled children, which if you "believe in the sanctity of life from conception to death", presumably you'd be screaming for. They're anti-abortion, but not campaigning for increasing adoption services, or increasing funding for disability support services. They're anti-euthanasia, but there's nothing about increasing palliative care funding, or aged-care funding. The care they demonstrate ends at the delivery room door and a long way before the grave.

The Australian Family Association is also hella misogynist. In it campaign to increase funding for mothers to stay home, there's plenty of mother-blaming in the argument that kids in all-day daycare fare worse than those who don't. The mother should be staying home to rear the children. The mans job is to be the bread winner. Direct quote from the about page of the Australian Family Association;

"Society should recognise the different biological and psychological functions of the mother and father. It should require the latter normally to maintain the family by virtue of his work, which society should reward with a minimum wage or salary sufficient to maintain a family. The maintenance of the family should be the financial responsibility of the father and not of the State, unless the father proves incapable of fulfilling his obligations. The law should not inhibit the legal or ethical right of the mother to engage in outside employment. Society, through its systems of taxation, family allowances and endowment, and similar provisions, should ensure, however, that no mother is forced to engage in outside employment through economic pressure."

So the definition of a family narrows further. It's not just man, woman, children. Your roles are defined by this group as rigid and inflexible, taking into account none of the individuality of your family, your careers, the opportunity to equally parent. It's not up to you. They know best.

I believe that the best people to decide how a family functions, how it changes, how it is defined, are the family. That the government should support families in all their forms, and that pushing "Religious Values" in the name of "Family Values" is dishonest and destructive, and we need to take back the word family to ALL it applies to, not just the Righteous, noisy few.

Christmas Blessings

noreply@blogger.com (Keri) — Fri, 24 Dec 2010 10:36:00 +0000

Yesterday afternoon I had a wide excision on the upper arm to get rid of the rest of any Liposarcoma lurking around, and give us a nice margin. I went in at one, and was out by four. I cannot thank Peter Mac and the awesome staff there for getting me in two days after the final results came through, and by-and-large being awesome. I wasn't completely put under, it was a twilight anesthesia, and I've had problems with Local anesthetics before, so they were looking for me to tell them if and when I had issues with the local, which I did, briefly, but they were on top of it. They sent me home after a bit of a rest, with instructions to take Panadol six hourly.

They gave me a long-lasting Local, so the pain didn't kick in until about 8pm, but when it did, Boy, did it kick in. My arm started swelling, so I was straight onto the number for patient liaison, who clucked at me being given nothing but Panadol, and advised me to see my GP in the morning if I could last that long, or the hospital if I couldn't. I went into the Doc first thing and he all but laughed at Panadol being prescribed, and wrote out two scripts for something stronger. It took the first two doses to get on top of the pain, but now that I have, it's bearable. Moving is still painful, but as long as I rest, it's bearable.

More than anything, I'm glad it's gone. And that I've got such a supportive partner and family. What a Christmas present!

I hope everyone who celebrates gets what they need this Christmas, whether that's a particular present or time with their loved ones, and those who don't - enjoy the weekend!

Pace is the Trick

noreply@blogger.com (Keri) — Tue, 14 Dec 2010 10:51:00 +0000

If you're wondering why there's been no news on the Exploding Arm CancerTM*, it's because we're basically in a holding pattern. Our Exploding Arm Cancer Doc, because of the rarity, doesn't trust anyone but his pathologists to give him a clear picture of what we're dealing with. Fair enough, says I. So far this has been looked at by no fewer than four TEAMS of pathologists. There's bits of me growing in labs in three states now.

That DOES make me slightly edgy in terms of delay. It's still in my fricking arm, but I'm sure that they wouldn't leave it in there unless there was damn good reason to. Basically, if they take it out and it turns out they should have done something first, they're going to have put us far further behind than if we wait another few weeks. We're still operating under the assumption that it's only going to be a slash and stitch job, and that this'll be done early next year, but it just depends what the final pathology turns up. Unfortunately it looks like this hasn't been seen before in every doctor who has seen it so far.

So, we're basically at Hurry Up And Wait. Most days - unless it's a day where my arm is incredibly itchy or we're expecting results back - I forget about it. The fact that I know we've got the very best looking into it, and I've got the best chaserer-upperer in the business fielding the phone calls in Jeremy means I've been able to be pretty chill about it. After all, they wouldn't be leaving it in there if there was a danger to my health beyond the obvious.

*Exploding Arm Cancer is Jeremy's name for it. Personally, I've found it helps to make as light of it as we hope it will be. Particularly when it's incredibly itchy or gets sore, which can be worrying. Since there was no margin we're also operating at the assumption that it's still in there since my Doc only took out what looked like a cyst, and it's highly unlikely that got it all, but as we caught it so early we can afford to be conservative in terms of treatment.

Onwards

noreply@blogger.com (Keri) — Wed, 24 Nov 2010 05:15:00 +0000

Had my first appointment at the Peter Mac institute today, and the news was overwhelmingly good. Yes, I have Cancer. Yes, it's a Liposarcoma. But because we got it so early, I'm only going to need surgery. That's it. That will, in the specialists opinion, cure me.

It was the best news we had any right to expect. All I'm going to have to have is more tissue taken out, and I'll end up with a six to ten centimetre scar. The best bit of the appointment was the bit where he had to examine the rest of my upper body for anything suspicious looking, and when he noticed my stomach and chest scars, he said "Well, I can see the scar on the arm isn't going to trouble you too much" He was efficient, professional, knowledgeable and - a quality I'm rapidly finding essential in a medical professional, blunt.

Compared to the treatments other people have to go through to stay healthy when they discover Cancer, what a small price to pay.

I'll take it. What's a ten centimetre scar for my life? Nothing. A day or two off work, a week or two out of the gym. Nothing.

And now we know where we are, on to the wedding planning! And maybe I can get back to sleeping now. I think that's been the worst bit of this for me - trying to operate and cope with stressful news without sleep. It puts you so far behind, trying desperately to cope with a head full of exhaustion-fog. I felt - this is the only word I can think of for it - fragile. Everything was just harder whilst I didn't know.

But, onwards.

Good News

noreply@blogger.com (Keri) — Tue, 16 Nov 2010 07:48:00 +0000

Verbal results from lab in Perth this afternoon; Primary Cutaneous Liposarcoma. My GP thinks I may be able to get away with just some more surgery on the arm to give a margin (At the moment we don't have a margin), but he's deferring that decision to my surgeon, who is experienced in this kind of Cancer. We should know tomorrow what his thoughts are (He's out of town today) and whether I will be under his care solely, or will need to be referred on for further treatment.

Fingers crossed its the former, but this is some fantastic news.

Interrupted

noreply@blogger.com (Keri) — Sun, 14 Nov 2010 10:35:00 +0000

Forgive me for the stream of consciousness here. But I'm thinking in five minute blocks at the moment. This post has taken me five hours.

So, Jeremy and I are engaged. That happened on the 1st November, and was just a really perfect, happy moment. The ring is gorgeous, the proposal was spontaneous and sweet, the wedding we're looking at will be beautiful. But, life interrupted.

A week later, almost to the hour, at an appointment that I thought was simply to take the stitches out, I found out that a cyst I had removed from my upper left arm was not actually a cyst but most likely a Liposarcoma.

Cancer.

And a particularly rare one. Not news I was in any way expecting. Jeremy was so little expecting it he was reading a Monthly magazine and didn't hear a thing and I had to repeat everything my Doctor had told me.

The one time I do not want to be a special snowflake is when I'm looking for treatment options and next steps with Cancer. Liposarcomas are rare. They make up less than 1% of Cancer diagnosis's. The type we think I have? Makes up 9% of that 1%.

Because of its rarity, the pathologist who'd examined my PretendCyst for the Doctor (With free "extremely worrying" commentary on the growth rate) needed to send it to an expert. Which, it turned out, was in Perth. And its not like they can fax or email across tiny slivers of my PretendCyst, they have to be physically sent. Which meant that the "We should have the results on Friday" bit became "Mid next week at the earliest" becomes "Sometimes these things take time", "Oh, okay we'll send it to a lab in Kew, that might speed things up"

I was supposed to have more tissue taken out on Thursday to improve the chances that we had a margin - that's one of the other concerns at the moment - because we were operating under the assumption that it was a Cyst, there is very, very little margin. But the surgeon I spoke to early Thursday morning cancelled the surgery, because he wants the exact type and Grade of the Cancer nailed down before we do anything. And that's fine. More speed, less haste, as they say. Depending on the exact type of Liposarcoma I have (Or whatever it is that was masquerading as a cyst), the next course of treatment could differ wildly. I'm hoping, at this stage, to get away with more tissue being removed, a couple of "Lets confirm it hasn't spread" scans and some Radiotherapy. If not, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it.

I was extremely lucky in two things; My doctor is thorough, and sent off to pathology the PretendCyst even though he was firmly of the opinion that it was nothing to be concerned about and I basically told him not to bother. Secondly, when he got the report he referred me to a Plastic Surgeon who has worked at the hospital that has the only dedicated Sarcoma multidisciplinary team in Melbourne. He's one of the very, very few surgeons in Melbourne who knew exactly what he was seeing when he looked at the Pathology report, and generously took twenty five minutes out of his day to patiently explain everything to me, and of course to Jeremy. He also knew that waiting for the final Path report was the best thing to do, and had no hesitation in making that hard call an hour before the scheduled start time, and explaining it to us.

For now, I am going to be completely honest and say I don't think I'm coping well. Or that I have absolutely no idea what "coping well" entails, and whether I'm near the mark or not. I'm absolutely exhausted. I'm not sleeping well at all, and the tension is just so energy sapping. I'm tired yet I can't sleep. I'm finding it hard to concentrate on anything for more than a moment at a time. At the moment, Jeremy has been fielding the phone calls and doing the badgering that needs to be done to line everything up, because he is more focussed on action and I'm more focussed on the information. I need that filter so I'm focussed on what helps me be positive, and he's not afraid to step in when I need it.

What is freaking me out is that this was on my upper arm and protuded out of my skin like a clear, tannish mole thing. It seemingly appeared overnight, but it just didn't look dangerous. And the Doctor and I left it for four months and I watched it grow. We were conservative in taking it out when we did - we had absolutely no reason to think it was anything other than a cyst, no reason to take it out at all, really - but I watched it grow. It was growing so fast that in the last month it was there the Doctor and I estimated it had doubled in size. And the only reason I had it removed seems trivial. I could see it in my peripheral vision when I was typing, and because it was new I found it distracting. So when it came up again, I was happy to suggest taking it out. Jesus. To think that something so utterly mundane may have made a difference in how quickly we've caught this. What if it hadn't been so close to the skin?

Those are the worst thoughts, and they're probably 5% of how I'm feeling. The rest of me knows that we probably caught it early, that scans will probably show no spread and that we really couldn't be luckier with lobbing on the doorstep of the surgeon we did. And our family is being terrific. Most of me is thinking one step at a time, and thinking positive. But of course, when you tell someone, you tend to tell them all the bits. My outlook is generally good. I have moments of sadness, and moments of anger. I can't be bothered with trivial things right now. I don't have the patience. And that's about all.

I am incredibly fortunate in this. I landed on the door of one the few surgeons who has seen and operated on this type of cancer, and he's able to refer me to the exact right people. The surgeon took it upon himself to discuss the Pathologists preliminary diagnosis and confirm that yes, we are looking at Cancer. Not knowing exactly which one because they are so rare does not, unfortunately mean it might not be. But I have every confidence that we are in the best possible hands. And that is six months time we'll be thinking back on this time and be out of it. That's the focus for now - one step at a time, and get this thing done.

Song for a Sunday

noreply@blogger.com (Keri) — Sat, 13 Nov 2010 11:13:00 +0000

Any song with "Hover Gondola" is a win.

Policy questions unanswered

noreply@blogger.com (Keri) — Sat, 31 Jul 2010 05:56:00 +0000

A lot is being said right now on Twitter about the media and the questions being asked of the party leaders during this election campaign, and whether they are focusing enough on policy or are asking questions the public is interested in.

My feeling is that the world of Journalism, from what we know of it, seems quite insular. Is there a temptation to ask questions not because you think the public want the answer, but because another publication is asking it?

The thing that got me was how many Journalists who are on Twitter seemed to have the "See if you can do a better job" style of engagement in this discussion. Rather than point out where - if it is in fact the case - people are asking them to get this information and acknowledge that there is at least a section of the community who ISN'T getting the information they want from the journalists asking the questions of the party leaders, at least some of the journalists seem to be throwing hissy fits that anyone dare criticize them and refuse to see what the problem is.

Here's the problem as I see it: Gillard is being asked questions that are totally irrelevant to the way she will run the country if elected. Rather than ask what is ACTUALLY going to be done about infrastructure and population growth outside of the tiny percentage that is boat people, she was asked about her earlobes. Rather than ask questions about the $12,000 in support to be given to families with disabled children for early intervention and what criteria will be applied, she was asked about photoshopping of her appearance.

Rather than ask Tony what the criteria are for "Severe disability" and what "Up to $20,000" means and how they will apply to his Education card scheme for disabled children, he's asked about the Cabinet leak in the Labor party. Rather than ask him what measure he has in place for Early Intervention and why the scheme does not extend to people with disabilities not classified as severe, he's asked why he's got his family with him. Rather than ask him why Joe Hockey when appearing on the 730 report stated that of course they won't change the Fair Work Act, "full stop", but they're quite happy to change "what the lawyers tell them it's ok" to, we're treated to another question about Tony's apparent "woman problem"

Policy Issues are being left out of questions in favour of Gotcha-style journalism. Chris Uhlmann's first story for ABC News 24 was a prime example. Rather than focus on current policy and the current campaign, he chose to stick the knife in Kevin Rudd sending a staffer along to Security meetings in his stead. As acknowledged by all involved, that was never done for major meetings or when issues of import were discussed, but Chris chose to use the piece to demonstrate "contempt" shown by the former PM to public servants.

The leak by Laurie Oakes - that, Quelle Suprise - not everyone agrees on policy brought to Cabinet straight away, was another example. Think people don't talk about Cabinet discussions after they occur? Check out Labor in Power. An entire documentary based on Cabinet discussions and the like. It's not new, it's barely even news. Laurie is a heavy-hitter, and his questions make people sit up and take notice. Imagine how the debate could be shaped if instead of questions about whether Kevin Rudd had been asked to campaign or whether he'd told them he wouldn't we had questions about Healthcare. Imagine if instead of questions about earlobes we had questions about Dental health schemes. Imagine if instead of questions about airbrushing we had questions about infrastructure.

Campaign coverage becomes less policy-focussed by the day. We're catering for those who vote on personality, who swing for a sound-bite, and aren't interested in anything but the profile of a politician.

We're dumbing it down. Do the Journalists of this country really think we're more interested in Julia's earlobes than the way she'll run this country? Do we care more about Tony's speedos than we do how he'll run this country?

If that's the case, Mea Culpa, Journalists. If not, you're treating us with contempt. Ask some questions about policies and stop treating this like a campaign for Prom Queen and King. It's our bloody country at stake, whoever wins.

Bastardizing Part One

noreply@blogger.com (Keri) — Thu, 22 Jul 2010 12:27:00 +0000

Almost the first thing I do when I hear about a recipe is think about how I can adapt it to what I would like. I'm fussy, and almost no recipe is going to suit me straight off the page. Dinner tonight was a prime example. I'd seen something, somewhere about Caponata, a Sicilian Aubergine (Eggplant, Aussies) stew that's traditionally served cold or as an entree or accompaniment. It's supposed to have herb vinegar, capers, olives and parsley stalks, and has a unique salty, tangy flavour which mixes gorgeously with the creamy texture of the Aubergine.

What I made tonight would probably not really even be classified as a Caponata, but here's what I did;

Ingredients

One red or green capsicum
five tomatoes, ripe as possible
Red onion, two small or one large
One large Aubergine (purple, if possible)
Two small or one large zucchini
salt
half a tablespoon of oregano
half a tablespoon of mixed herbs
One large cob loaf
Red Wine Vinegar or similar
Two cloves of garlic

Method

Preheat oven to 200 degrees celcius.

Chop Aubergine into large pieces, add to hot pan with two tablespoons of olive oil with chopped zuchinni. If your tomatoes are not very ripe, I would add them now as well. Toss until Aubergine well coated and starting to brown. Add Red onion and garlic. I added probably a teaspoon of salt at this point as well. Add two or three glugs of red wine vinegar at this point, and see how you go for consistency. Too much will result in sogginess, not enough and the eggplant could become tough.

Once the onions start going clear as onions are wont to do and the red wine vinegar evaporated, add the tomatoes if very ripe. I would add the capsicum at this point to have something with a crunchier texture

Grab your cob loaf and cut a square from the top so you've got a lid. Scoop out the middle to make as much room as you need for the stew. If it's a very fresh loaf, you probably won't even need to scoop. Add some cheese to the bottom

Shadow is an optional extra, natch.

Add the scooped out bread, torn, to the stew, mix through and scoop the stew into the bread

The cheese at the bottom should provide the bread with a bit of stability, but this is why you don't want it to be dripping soggy, just nice and moist.

Put the lid back on and put on a flat tray in the oven for seven minutes, or until bread starts to brown

Remove from oven and slice with a bread knife (The temptation might be to use a sharp knife so you don't drag at the stew, but that it just going to make your life difficult with a baked loaf) into desired serving size. This is a very filling meal, so less is most certainly more. The serving below was about three times more than either of us could eat, and it's really not that big a plate.

It turned out better than I'd hoped. Moist but not too moist, creamy, tangy and filling. Apart from the eggplant and red onion (Which really made it for me), you could use any vegie you've got lying around in this. You could substitute brown vinegar at a pinch (using far less) , use a Pana de Casa for authenticity, and add the capers and olives if you are actually serving it as a side dish. I honestly think combined with the vinegar that capers and olives would be too much flavour and would take the subtlety from it, but certainly that's how it would be done traditionally. I would not advise balsamic vinegar. Aubergines soak up oil and vinegar like bread. The flavour would be overpowering in my opinion.

Another idea I'd have pinched from Ro if I'd seen it in time (the cheese at the bottom I nicked from her, the cob loaf I'd already decided on) was using small dinner rolls instead of a cob loaf, or if you're serving as an entree' and don't want to be fiddly, using a ramakin or souflee dish and forgo the bread. The torn bread really soaked up some of the liquid though, so I'd recommend throwing some in, anyway.

Heart full of music

noreply@blogger.com (Keri) — Tue, 06 Apr 2010 04:48:00 +0000

I was going to write a very different post here, but I'm in two minds as to whether I should or not, mainly because there's parts of my life I used to talk about that I now don't feel that I can. It's all very well to expose yourself to the jackals, but others? I don't think I have that right.

It's kind of sad. This blog was my outlet. Now it feels too delicate. Too easy to say something I "shouldn't". Do I say what's on my mind? Do I only write about things other people are writing about, which seems to be where I'm headed? I rail against 'letting them win" by not saying things I want to say, but in the end, does it matter? Does not saying something hurt as much as things I could say would hurt others?

I know what my life is. I know where my heart is. That, for now, is enough. My home is one of flowers and laughter and love. My heart is full of music. And the best thing is that I'm sharing it with someone who sneaks out in the morning to take photos so he won't wake me by pottering around, and notices my initials in the water. He comes back with a song in his heart that he plays while he shows me the photos.

I'm sharing my life with someone who drives me out beyond the lights and has a soundtrack to the stars we point at and the constellations we track with the nifty Google Sky. Someone who couldn't have taken better care of me while I've been ill (Don't ask. It's too complicated to explain), someone who kept the house running - I did no housework or cooking for the best part of three months - and did it all again with only a weeks break when I borked my shoulder pushing myself too far too fast, and helped me see that asking for help is far less stupid and insulting to the people I love than stubbornly acting like they wouldn't help me in a heartbeat and getting stuck with your shirt above your head because you cannot move your arm.

Basically, what I'm saying is I don't know where this blog is going. Or if I'll keep it going. I won't delete it, but I certainly can't write the way I want to anymore, and I don't know what that means for this. Some of why I "can't" write is that I'm not in the same place. I'm not the same person. I guess the voice we have through our lives changes, and the outlet that's best for that voice changes with it.

Time will tell, I suppose.

A big shovel load of credit

noreply@blogger.com (Keri) — Tue, 06 Apr 2010 02:52:00 +0000

Usually, I am not Herald Sun columnist Susie O'Briens biggest fan. Usually, I find the pieces she writes factless and vacuous.

Today, she has totally blown me away with this piece on Refugees and the hyperbole that surrounds the issue.

I'm not going to say much about it, because she's already said everything I would say myself. But I will quote the ending, as it sums up my position on Australia's refugee intake nicely;

"People, let's get some perspective. These facts have been missing, and all we're getting is tough, empty talk by men wanting to win elections.

We should not, and must not, apologise for treating the world's most disadvantaged people with compassion. And don't forget that it is never illegal for a person to enter our country - via land or sea - in search of freedom from persecution. In fact, it's our responsibility as a stable, wealthy land.

If we are going to have a debate, let's debate facts, not the fear-based fantasy."

She backs up that position by doing her research into the actual numbers and the issues behind them. I could not be more impressed.

And, normality resumes

noreply@blogger.com (Keri) — Fri, 12 Feb 2010 00:47:00 +0000

Last week I actually agreed with something Andrew Bolt said.

I knew it was too good to last.

The byline from the front page of the Herald Sun website, with Andrew's new article:

"IF he hasn't yet burned down your house, lost your cash or fried the guy in your roof, you might laugh at Kevin Rudd's latest joke"

Andrew Bolt, on the front page of a prominent news site, accuses our Prime Minister of Arson. He says, right there, that Kevin Rudd is burning down peoples houses. Also, I won't be sleeping tonight, because up until now, I didn't know there was a guy in my roof. God only knows how he got up there, what he's up to, and - most disturbingly - how Andrew Bolt knows about him.

But it gets better. On the Prime Minister:

"He's come up with this excuse for the drop in his support: that he still hasn't sold you enough spin.

Swear to God! That's what he said...."

Except he admits, in the next line, that the Prime Minister actually said something completely different:

"Here are his exact words: "I think our challenge is to communicate more effectively that which we have done.""

I can see where Andrew got confused. The word "That" is in both sentences.

It's a good thing Andrew is a professed atheist, because swearing to God and then admitting you're fibbing in the next sentence isn't looked on too kindly on by most deities.

Good lord

noreply@blogger.com (Keri) — Wed, 10 Feb 2010 01:58:00 +0000

Some of the comments on this article make me ill:

"Is anyone surprised that this is happening under Australia's mandarin speaking prime minister?"

Yes. Because learning another language means... what, exactly?

"Could you just imagine if K Rudd and his bunch of misfits were in government back in 1942? They would have engaged the Japanese to make armaments and clothing for the Australian digger serving in New Guinea. Why doesnât he just hand control of our intelligence gathering over to the Chinese as well?"

You get that we're not actually at war with China, right?

"Not only as a member of the RSL but as importantly a Proud Australian Citizen I feel a huge sense of anger towards the Australian Federal Government to even consider such a deplorable move to have OUR uniforms that are worn by our brave men and women to be made in ANY country other than Australia. Mr. Rudd your relationship with China has gone too far and you are a disgrace to the Australian flag."

Bet if we took a look around your house we'd find plenty of non-Australian made merchandise, wouldn't we?

"So we can drive tanks from the USA and use rifles from Germany but we can't wear unifroms from China. Smacks of racism to me."

A voice of reason?

Seriously, we use planes, helicopters, guns, expertise from countries all over the world. Half of our clothes, a lot of our electronics and countless other things we never think about day to day would be made in China.

What exactly is our problem here?

He's got a point

noreply@blogger.com (Keri) — Fri, 05 Feb 2010 01:01:00 +0000

It's certainly not usual for me to read an Andrew Bolt article and find myself nodding along in agreement, but this story makes a lot of sense.

Black Saturday, in terms of the history of bushfires, was an anomaly. A rare, devastating event the likes of which we've not seen before. It challenged some of the advice given by the fire-fighting authorities, and provoked a Royal Commission which increasingly looks like a witch-hunt, given the individual authorities are represented by one legal counsel, meaning their individual interests will not be served by that counsel.

The big question for me though, is do we reject conventional wisdom - based on years of studies and a history of success in survival rates in bushfires - or do we abandon what we know based on one catastrophe, that we don't know for sure will occur again?

I used to live in the Blue Mountains in New South Wales. My family - the family I lived with when I first came to this country, still does, just inside the borders of the National Park. There's a verandah out the back overlooking the valley, and we used to sit there, feet on the railings watching the fires crest the furthest hill - three or so kilometres away - and be told there was no immediate danger.

That was based on the advice of the park rangers and the Fire Authorities. If that had been Black Saturday, leaving even then may have been too late.

How do you prepare for something like Black Saturday? Do we flee every time when a Code Certain Death is called and gradually become complacent as to when to go, ignoring that the best advice previously - the most successful strategies - have always been based on preparing yourself and your property and knowing how to defend yourself and your property? Do we wipe the advice based on years of study and go with Code Useless Panic evacuations that will gradually ebb away the diligence of people evacuating, so they're neither preparing themselves in the most effective way possible, nor leaving before it's too late?

I don't know the answers. It would be a shame if we don't learn anything from Black Saturday, but shouldn't we be careful that what we put in place is based on fact and not on Panic Overdrive?

We drove up to Kinglake on Australia Day, and the devastation was terrible. But looking at the trees, nature knows how to repair itself. Let's hope the communities do as well.

The "gift" is obviously not a sense of self-preservation.

noreply@blogger.com (Keri) — Mon, 25 Jan 2010 06:55:00 +0000

You're the leader of the opposition party, and you're fighting the idea that women-voters will have a problem with you. You're trying to play down the fact you tried to bring approval of RU486 under your personal control, that you're a vocal opponent of choice, and that you've got an image as a Catholic prurient hypocrite, who thought he'd knocked up his college girlfriend but is all about the abstinence, and removing the choices women can make about their own bodies.

What's your next move? Telling women their virginity is a "gift" and they should wait to give to their husbands after they're married.

Of course! How silly of me. I mean, let's forget the fact that Abbott famously didn't practice what he's now preaching, or that - is it just me? - a lot of women are going to think it's none of his fucking business when women do or don't have sex for the first time.

I realise that Abbott is probably answering the questions he's being asked, and in way I kind of admire the fact that he's not sugar-coating what he believes. In one way, he's won a certain amount of respect from me, being open about his beliefs and how they shape his politics. It would be so easy to try and distance himself from his previous record. I'd much prefer he was honest about it, but seriously? Regardless of what the rest of your policies are, Abbott, you will never, ever, ever get my vote.

You have shown yourself to think women cannot make decisions for themselves during your reign as Health minister. You have shown yourself to be a hypocrite by expecting young women and men to live up to standard you demonstrably cannot live up to yourself. You have shown that you will put your own religious beliefs before the health and wellbeing of the women of this country, and I hope that every single woman and man in this country remembers that come polling day.

Tis the Season

noreply@blogger.com (Keri) — Sat, 26 Dec 2009 12:27:00 +0000

I'd apologise, but if you've been reading this blog for any length of time, you and I both know I've done it before and I'm going to do it again. So let's cut the crap. It's been a while. I've been busy. I'm not sorry, you don't care. And here, in pictures, is why:

Yes, I make my Christmas Cards blurry. Don't you? At one in the morning, this was the best I could do.

Santa's baking workshop, Melbourne Division

Them be load-bearing freckles.

See the windows? I hunted high and low for Jolly Ranchers for windows, and we have ONE hot day and they start melting. Next year, I'm aiming low.

Not pictured: Hand-sewn tree-skirt.

The best Christmas Present of all, my brand-new nephew, Lucas.Born five weeks early with his Mum's mouth and his Daddy's Eyes.

Happy Festive Season All. Be Merry, be Jolly, be Safe.

Hot, Not hot

noreply@blogger.com (Keri) — Thu, 26 Nov 2009 02:20:00 +0000

According to ABC:

Hot:

Not Hot:

So no problems with Britney pashing a woman decades older than herself, but when a man pashes a man similar in age, there's a problem?

Right.

Edit: Lambert's replacement? None other than girlfriend beating R&B singer Chris Brown. And ABC is now saying Adam wasn't cancelled because he was gay, or because he kissed another man, but because he was "unpredictable on Live TV"

So that's the message, performers. You can do whatever the hell you like - up to and including bloodying the lip of your partner - as long as you can follow a cue and don't deviate from the script. Just don't be original or spontaneous. Our precious little eyes couldn't take it.

Two for the price of one

noreply@blogger.com (Keri) — Fri, 13 Nov 2009 12:10:00 +0000

Two worthy causes have organised rallies in Melbourne at the State Library to bring attention to their cause.

Except one didn't check with the other. I guess there's not a lot of crossover.

And so the Equal Love same sex rally and the R18+ Ratings Rally have organised their respective rallies at the same time, same place, same day.

Admission

noreply@blogger.com (Keri) — Sat, 07 Nov 2009 12:59:00 +0000

Today, once again, I put strangers' opinions of me ahead of my own comfort.

It was hot here today. Hot in the house, hot outside. It got up to 32 degrees, and it's still 25 now, at 10.59pm.

I'm wearing jeans. Not by choice, not because I don't feel the heat (By God, do I feel the heat!), but because I am afraid of the judgement, and the scorn, and the comments and the assumptions of people I do not know, and more than anything, from those I do.

I should backtrack. I have eczema, and the attendant dry skin that goes with it. Year-round, but worse at time when the temperatures change suddenly (Like now) no amount of moisturising will stop my lower legs from cracking and peeling, and my skin is tender, sore and red in places. It's manageable, but annoying.

As a result, during these flare-ups I can't shave my legs, and I can't wax. Depilatory creams are out at all times- my skin is just too sensitive for that. Those rotaty things that pluck the hair out? Also take off skin that is peeling, and did I mention the pain? Not keen on adding to it.

These times can last for a week, a month or six months. A Flare-up can materialise overnight - or during the night - and disappear just as quickly. There are things I can do to help, and one of them is avoiding peeling layers of already-cracking skin off with a razor, and not applying hot-wax to an area that's already causing me pain and discomfort.

But what do I do when it's hot? When it's summer? When I cannot shave, or remove the hair in another way?

When I have the choice between comfort and embarrassment? Between wearing shorts or a skirt or a dress and being cooler but enduring the looks, the sneers, the questions and comments? Between saying "Stuff it. I'm hot" and meekly accepting that Women Should Not Have Hair Where Men Do Not Want Them To Have Hair Even Though We Grow Hair There So Clearly We're Supposed To Have Hair There And It's Annoying Removing That Hair But For Some Reason It's Okay For Men To Have Hair There, and hide my shame behind pants and jeans?

Every time, EVERY time, I make the choice to put another person and their opinion in front of my comfort. I will don the Jeans of Wussiness. I will stand here, watching other women walk around in dresses, or skirts or shorts wishing I had made a different choice, but I cannot bring myself (and the sensible, progressive woman in my head is SCREAMING at me right now) to leave the house with the fact that I have not been able to shave my legs for a month on display.

Even though when I see it on another woman, I applaud their choice and celebrate that she has the guts to do so, I cannot do it myself. Even when I get as far as questioning myself as to WHY another womans choice is any of my damn business, I baulk. Every time. I am distinctly uncomfortable with the idea of going out in public in anything that displays my legs when I have been unable to do any hair-removal. And if I could get past that barrier? You can bet your bottom dollar that if challenged on it I would probably explain WHY I have not been able to toe the hair-free line instead of asking that person who the hell they think they are to question my body and my choices in relation to it.

I wish I could say this year will be different. I wish I could say that I'm taking lessons from something and drawing up my strength and biting the bullet and girding my loins and ditching the fucking pants and being a bit more bloody comfortable, but I don't see a change this year. Today I did what I do every year, and put the pants on and tomorrow I will doubtless do the same. I talked to a girl at the party tonight about the dilemma and her suggestion was Maxi dresses. Something that still hides the hair but will make me slightly more comfortable.

As long as I don't cross my legs. Or examine myself too closely to ask myself why I'm bowing to societal pressures when I don't want to and why I preface every one of these discussions with "But! I have a good reason not to!" bleating. And why this has taken me an hour to write, and why I'm still hesitant to hit Publish.

And that's my admission. I am a coward, and I am uncomfortable, and I am will make myself uncomfortable so you will not baulk at my hairy legs. And I don't know if that's ever going to change.

**Edit. Spelled "Baulk" as "Balk" throughout. Four years practically living in pool halls will do that to a girl.

Why I bother

noreply@blogger.com (Keri) — Wed, 04 Nov 2009 12:36:00 +0000

Why I bother with slug patrol:

A Black Beauty rose I planted on July 7th this year, backed by six week old strawberries and parsley.

Slugalicious

noreply@blogger.com (Keri) — Tue, 03 Nov 2009 00:00:00 +0000

And so, in my twenty eighth year, it came to pass that I'd become so domestic that not only was I posting about cooking, but gardening advice.

Oh, God.

Specifically, how to deal with slugs. In a pet friendly manner, considering we have two cats that do venture outside with us occasionally. Hopefully eco-friendly, for no other reason than the fact that I don't really like gloves, and most chemicals mean wearing them.

Want to know what I discovered? If you use orange halves - like, for example, the orange halves left over from the juice we make - as bait, you can collect all your gardens slugs with very little effort, for convenient disposal.

Okay. I just need a moment. I just blogged the words "You can collect all your gardens slugs" with a straight face.

Alright. So what I do is take the orange halves we've used each day, and lay them in front of the plants that have slug or snail damage. I usually put them out when I get home from work, around seven. Then, before bed, I go out and collect them, and pick up any stragglers who're making their way to or from Orange Heaven with a stick. I put them in a plastic bag and tie it tightly so the little buggers can't get out, and toss it in the bin. I don't know whether that means Death to Slugs through lack of air, or Slug Fiesta as they feast on the orange for a while, or Slugageddon, as they eat each other to survive, but I'm not going to individually squish each one, and salt is just too cruel. Whether they survive on the orangey goodness to the tip I do not know, and do not want to know. I'm not really into Slug Welfare, I just want the little bastards to stop eating my capsicum and chilli plants without killing my cats.

It's all less icky than it sounds, really.

What isn't less icky is the song that came into my head as I was doing Slug Patrol tonight.

To the tune of "Islands in the Stream":

Slimy, slimy slugs.

That is what you are

Coming from afar

For my orange halves

Come away with me

To the rubbish bin

You can eat all the orange,

ah ha.......

And that's where it tails off when Jeremy gives me the "Why are you doing this to me?" look.

Honestly, that man has the patience of a saint.

Fat is another one of those wimmin problems

noreply@blogger.com (Keri) — Mon, 02 Nov 2009 02:48:00 +0000

Why do we never see the flip-side of this coin?

Why are these articles always focused at females? Why is there a huge gender divide between the blame game when it comes to weight?

We're bombarded with articles of late telling us that we've got it all wrong. We shouldn't be telling girls it's okay to be overweight.

Let's not get into that, because - leaving aside the fact that there's a healthy middle ground between morbidly obese and a stick-thin size 6 called NORMAL - we should absolutely be encouraging people to be healthy. Not thin. HEALTHY.

Instead, it struck me (whacked me round the head with the rage stick more like) that we never see these articles aimed at men. I asked the question on twitter - why are these things always written about women? And someone replied in jest that it was because "men don't listen"

Well, from my experience in having to repeat myself, that's probably true. But why is the societal pressure so much stronger on women than men to be thin? Why do we perpetuate the myth that "men carry excess weight better"? They don't. And the proclivity of men to carry weight around the middle makes them MORE at risk for health-related weight problems than women.

So why are we shouting down the women who point at the chuppa-chup sticks on catwalks with the "we shouldn't be telling you fatties it's okay to be fat anyway"?

When that patently, obviously, isn't.the.point.

The point is that there is a point in between. There are a group of women, who make up the majority of the female population in fact, that fall in between morbidly obese and stick-thin models. Why are these women not represented on the catwalk? When they are, why does it provoke a backlash of Op-Ed - mainly from women, I might add - saying we're setting a "bad example" for women by showcasing real women with real tits and real arses?

Why does the debate fall two ways? "Unhealthily stick women are giving our daughters eating disorders!!!11!!" and pejorative terms aplenty for the naturally thin woman, regardless of how healthy or fit they are and "normal people on catwalks are giving our daughters fatness!!!11!!" and pejorative terms aplenty for the naturally bigger person, regardless of how healthy and fit they are.

Here's a thought: Stop making fatness a sin, and a sin that only women are responsible for. Men are just as responsible for their own health issues, and I don't see an article every bloody day about how fat men are and how they're ruining society.

More than me

noreply@blogger.com (Keri) — Thu, 22 Oct 2009 00:25:00 +0000

If someone risks life and limb to escape persecution or poverty, gives everything they have for an unsafe passage and finally gets to their destination and wants to start a new life, they're welcome to come in, as far as I'm concerned.

If someone comes to a new country without a word of that countries language yet learns it well enough to talk to me in a short space of time, I'm happy to repeat myself without thinking them an idiot.

If a person who was qualified in their previous country for a white collar job and works night shift in a taxi while they get the same qualifications they had back home doesn't know the exact way home, I'm happy to point them in the right direction. It doesn't cost me anything to be courteous and helpful.

If someone has done more to earn the respect of their new fellow countrymen than any person who has "waited in line", pay it.

Do you know what someone like me - a white immigrant with family already here, from a Commonwealth country - does to get in?

Fills out forms.

Takes a medical.

Waits.

That's all I have to do to earn your respect. All I have to do to be considered the "right" type of immigrant.

And I'm glad my parents went through that. Because it's given us a better life, and I love this country. But we weren't hounded from our country. We weren't persecuted, or threatened or in danger.

What does someone who comes here on a piece of crap boat go through? What will they go through if we send them back? What do these people have to do to earn your respect?

Seriously. If I'm the ideal candidate for immigration, if I'm the only type of person you want in this country, ask yourself why. Because I look like you? Because I sound - for the most part - like you? Because when I walk past you on the street, or work next to you I don't make you confront your own prejudices?

Regardless of what someone is fleeing from - poverty, persecution, a hopeless upbringing with no opportunity to get ahead - they've done more to deserve their place than me. I fled nothing, endured nothing more than inconvenience and apart from some mild teasing about the way I pronounce some words, people accept me.

Once we were a nation of "battlers". A nation that gave a hand up to those who were down.

When did that change? When did we decide there was a limit (Whilst still offering a bonus for increasing the population) on compassion?

**EDIT** An additional note. I am heartily sick of hearing the "Don't like it? Leave!!!1!" bullshit everywhere I turn. Seriously? You think that because someone is an immigrant they are never - regardless of provocation - allowed to disagree with policies, politics or any social problems they see? Why? Every single person who holds that belief does their fair share of wingeing about society, but immigrants aren't.

Those people, to a man, believe that an immigrant can never truly be Australian, and only Australian-born Australians have any right to complain.