Same-sex Marriage Bill Passed in Civilised Country

And people question my fondness for Canada.

Overnight (Australian time) the (mostly) enlightened men and women of the Canadian parliament voted 158 to 133 in favour of recognising marriage between two people of the same gender as equal to traditional marriage. Goodbye world-as-we-know-it, hello hellfire, brimstone and conjugal relations with hamsters and salad vegetables.

I find it both tragic and mystifying that I should be so excited by such a thing. Why should it be exceptional that a government consider a bill like this? Why is it even an issue? That millions of people around the world watch extreme violence as entertainment yet find a loving relationship between two adults -- a relationship that doesn't affect them personally one jot -- abhorrent is absolutely beyond my comprehension. What am I missing here?

And yet I am excited -- this really is an historic moment in not only queer history but a point at which we will all look back in years to come and laugh disbelievingly that it was ever a question... except in Australia, of course. In that future time this country will have been relegated to the pariah status afforded South Africa in the past, and largely ignored; you may not be aware of it, but it's an aim that has been formally drafted into Labor's operational blueprint. As the rest of the civilised world* moves forward into an enlightened age of actual thought, respect for other human beings and perhaps even the environment at a pinch, Australia will be reaping the rich rewards of the Howard era that saw the end of remotely affordable education and healthcare, cessation of a compassionate welfare safety net and the reintroduction of the White Australia Policy... or at least the White or Anything-Else-So-Long-As-You're-Wealthy Policy. We will have stepped out from under the skirts of British rule at long last... and straight into the ownership of the USA.

As I read about the same-sex marriage bill this morning I tried to picture such a debate in our parliament. Bob Brown would be leading the push, of course, but where would everyone else stand? It would be interesting to see the results of a conscience vote. Kevin Rudd a supporter? Alexander Downer -- where would he stand? Amanda Vanstone? (Hmmm, not sure on that one.) My money would be on Peter Costello being the dark horse, as he sometimes is. He and his brother have more in common than people generally allow.

But that day -- sadly, sadly -- will not come to pass in the foreseeable future, so for the time being we'll need to content ourselves to looking wistfully across the Pacific. Congratulations, Canada -- your coffee sucks but your attention to human rights kind of makes up for it, eh?

*Including, but not limited to: Canada, New Zealand and some European countries (but excluding UK)

It's NEW! It's MORE FIBROUS!! It's....

...stitchin' safari!

As part of my current quest for even the remotest sense of direction in my life, I asked Little Sister what qualities she thought were my strongest, what I'm good at. "Organising" said she. "Not that you're that organised yourself, of course, but you're good at organising other people; y'know, making systems, giving directions." It's true. I am a maker of lists, a sorter of things. I like things to be simple, to run smoothly. I like all the pencils to be in colour order, as, indeed, I once so had my library arranged. I am every Virgo cliché. And so I am attempting to bring the blog into line with this modus operandi*.

Stitchin' safari is the new addition to the Safari family, and is a place for me to share with those of you who share my inclination to spending hours frowning at string and sticks, and those who just like to watch. And it'll include other make-and-do snippets as well. I'd like to think that it'll be a little Isabella-Beeton-meets-Zandra-Rhodes-at-Reverse-Garbage-type haven. Happily for those of you who find such things tedious and faintly embarrassing, it's remarkably convenient to avoid this section whilst yet still getting the regular giddy thrill you've come to clamor for here at Suburban Safari. I really am spoiling you, aren't I?

Another one or two blogs/sections will follow, but I've not decided on the categorisation yet. Perhaps one for finished articles (as I used to do many months ago when my imagination was still intact) and one for smaller nibblets of commentary. Something like that. Suggestions very welcome.


*Should this be operandus, being singular?

Compliments to the Chef

For free flags send a stamped, self-addressed envelope to:
madeyouthink
1460 Golden Gate Ave #22
San Francisco CA 94115
USA

Thanks to Temporal Hominid for alerting me to this.

Hot Hot Chocolate

Please forgive me if this post reads a little slow, it's just that I'm typing with one hand as I push one of these into my face:



Chili and chocolate is a combination that will be familiar to those who've read Chocolat, or seen the movie, and I for one had been curious since seeing Juliette Binoche sprinkle a pinch of the red stuff onto a hot chocolate.

Well now I know. It's good*. It's interesting. It's unuuuuuuushool. It gives the chocolate a pleasant earthiness, and the burn comes as more of an aftertaste -- enlivened by a scorching coffee, I might add. I'm not a great fan of the Tim Tam, so I'd imagine that this is not the apogee of the concept.

Any other chili/chocolate products out there?

*Another review here.

Half-Asleep in Shark Pyjamas

Wedding Anniversaries:
1. Paper
2. Cotton
3. Leather
4. Linen

Singledom Anniversaries:
1. Glass (Shot glass, beer glass)
2. Tin (Baked beans, unheated)
3. Flannelette (Nightwear)
4. Hair (Cat)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Every now and then I develop very brief, low-grade obsessions with certain things. (Certain people at times, too, but that’s another story.) These things are usually objects for which I have little or no real need, but manage to convince myself that the absolute opposite is true.

Several years ago -- not long after I re-entered the workforce following a long break –- I absolutely had to have a bagless vacuum cleaner. Now I am not one generally given to excessive consumption, or a need to have the latest chi-chi appliance as recommended by Queer Eye, but on this occasion my mind would not be still until I had one of these appliances cluttering up my cupboard. I'm at a loss to explain it. Nevertheless, as a reward for weeks of dedicated pricing and hunting, researching and haggling I struggled home from the plaza triumphant, shiny new blue thing under my arm. The machine's general lack of verve in comparison to the older, uglier model it replaced was rather a disappointment, but the exercise scratched the itch and so served its purpose. (I guess.)

Over the past few weeks my obsessive attention has turned to nightwear. I have not been a regular wearer of pyjamas of any stripe for around twenty years or so, but the odd occasion I’ve needed them – a hospital visit, say, or a wholesome and modest overnight stay somewhere – this lack has been mightily inconvenient. As I’ve perused the selection available recently I’ve remembered why it is that I haven’t hurdled this obstacle in the past. The nightwear choices for women are appalling. The garments are themed thusly:

I’m Pretending I’m A Four-Year-Old. These seem to be in the majority, and involve swathes of pink, hearts, Winnie-the-Pooh and sundry other sickly, cutesy shit that no self-respecting or mentally healthy adult should be seen dead in.

Cheap Hooker. You’ll find this range in the plastics aisle, alongside cling film and fly swats. Perhaps this is indicative of some social deficit of mine: I honestly don’t think I could wear something shiny and oil-derived with “Naughty” or “Bad Girl” written across it. Not even in irony. Ever.

Nana. Need I explain? Floral flannelette nighties, scratchy pink polyester dressing gowns. Need to be married to entertain this genre.

And the fourth choice is, of course, to wear men’s pyjamas.

Given this monumental, heart-wrenching dilemma, you may be surprised to learn that I did indeed make a purchase last week, although not as I’d expected. On a day trip to Redcliffe, Little Sister and I indulged in a bit of a dig through a remainder store and to my delight found a set of PJ’s that were – gasp! – quite acceptable. They are men’s style, but not overly masculine, and the fluffy flannelette is keeping me cosy as the winter air continues to chill. But sharks are not the first thing that would spring to mind if called upon to design nightwear, although I think that’s to my discredit because my new pyjamas are rather glorious for their marine decoration. And they only cost $12.

So, flannelette-clad, I can relax, itch scratched – for now. And so onto the next must-have thing; I have a funny feeling it may be one of these*.

*Full credit to Cheryl for bringing this to my attention. Where does she find all this cool stuff?

Blogov

Trans-Siberia: A Rail Journey from Vladivostock to Moscow, with Seven Stop in Between.

The blog of the ABC's Moscow correspondent, Emma Griffiths, as she and her partner make the journey that many of us dream of, but are too lazy and soft to organise. Journey starts today.