Tagged

Well, something had to be done to get this blog a-rollin' again. I've been tagged by the lovely Debra. So. Five little-known things about your correspondent.

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

1. The first one is well-known to many, but perhaps not to all who read here. I'm pregnant. With twins. Their due date is a source of contention, but all seem to be agreed that it's late April or early May.

2. In 2001 I won the Garden Gnome painting competition during Canberra's spring festival, Floriade. So I am a prize-winning artist. I won a book on Frida Kahlo and tickets to see an exhibition of her work that was showing at the National Gallery at the time. It was a good prize.

3. My first real job after leaving home was as a best boy. A best boy means leading workshop hand and trainee, in a hot glass studio in this case. The traineeship came to a halt when the blower's arch enemy was promoted within the college and locked our studio. Permanently. I took away with me a greater understanding of petty politics, an enhanced love of very, very hot things, and a fondness for Santana.

4. I've had one genuine act of chivalry done in my cause: a boy on my school bus spit in another boy's face (OK, in his mouth) as punishment for a vile infraction upon my character. I was nearly sick, but deeply moved. The cad in this story was a scurvy dog, to be sure, and he deserved every last thick drop of it. I'm sure one reader will know who my deranged hero was if I say "P.Q.".

5. I've always wanted to learn tap dancing. Maybe it's the outfits.

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

OK, time to tag. I nominate Fatuous One, Tim, and Cheryl. I'm not going to tell them, just to see if they're still reading. I would have tagged Chris, but, at a guess, she'd never get around to doing it.

Kitlers

...cats that look like Hitler. But of course.

The Election Campaign Gets Serious

Less than a fortnight to go until we drag the blunt pencil over our ballot papers, the sorting of the sheep from the goats has begun in earnest. The issue at hand: the baking abilities of Premiers' wives. Wicked Witch of the West, Flo Bjelke-Petersen, has come out swinging at the incumbent wife, Dr Heather Beattie, over her supposed lack of prowess in the kitchen. Heather recently drew public attention with her white chocolate and macadamia biscuits, but Flo's not impressed:

I think my scones would be better as far as I'm concerned. I really feel as far as that recipe's concerned, I think if she concentrated more on helping Peter Beattie to get things fixed up in the health department it'd be a jolly lot better.

Well, that's Heather put in her place, and as eloquently as ever.

Much as I hate to say it, I'd have a pumpkin scone over a white chocolate and macadamia bikkie any day, but if Flo's fingers had been in the dough I may reconsider.

Maybe This Year

In comparison to others in my socio-economic niche I suppose I don't have a lot of stuff, but even still, I have too much. Too much stuff. I don't need any more stuff. Despite that, on my birthday later on this month and then at Christmas time several well-meaning loved ones will likely give me a bit more of it. It will be nice stuff, given with love and thought, but essentially surplus to my affluent Western lifestyle. How much better to give something to someone who needs it.

Oh look! Here's an opportunity to do just that! It's Oxfam Unwrapped, a scheme whereby you purchase something for someone in genuine need, but you can do so in the name of the person whose birthday (or whatever) it is. You give them the gift of giving.

As much as I'd love another piece of kitschy clutter this year, how about a goat instead?

The Rain in Spain....

Hello. Professor Henry Higgins here. Today I'd like to draw your attention to this vegetable:



This vegetable is an onion. Pronounced "UN-jən". NOT bloody pronounced "UNG-jən". I just thought I needed to say that as the owner of this blog, Zézette, tells me that she has to tolerate not one, but two people in her household saying it in the second, hick and rather embarrassing fashion. Lord, but that woman puts up with a lot, but "UNG-jən" is really just a step too far. It's "UN-jən". Please do what you can to remember that, for decency's sake.

Fond regards,

H.H.

We're Off To The Polls

Queensland Premier Peter Beattie has called a general election, and voters will head to the polls on September 9.

Mr Beattie was forced to choose between an early election and a by-election, after the Member for Bundaberg, Nita Cunningham, announced her resignation due to ill health.

He visited the Governor this morning to notify her of his intention to hold an election.

"I would much have preferred to have gone through to February for a general election," he said.

"What was clearly in the best interests of Queensland was to have a general election so we could deliver the water grid."

The ABC's election analyst, Antony Green, predicts the pendulum will swing back to the middle in this election.

"I think the real interesting thing is to see if there's a bit of a swing back towards normality - the last two elections have been landslides," he said.

Mr Beattie will be seeking a fourth term, while it is Opposition Leader Lawrence Springborg's second election as leader.

Health will be a major election issue, with Mr Springborg seizing on the latest medical scandal, the employment of a convicted rapist in the public hospital system.

"I think it goes to show that things are getting worse in Queensland not better under this Labor Government," he said.

-From ABC News Online

Things are hardly certain for the incumbent Labor party this time around. As a diehard lefty, and someone who lived to tell of life under Joh, it galls me to think of the Coalition in power in this state again, but, jeez.... anyone in power for too long is a bad thing, and our Pete is showing us why.

Love and Marriage

On the 26th of this month I will be a part of the wedding of two friends of mine. I’ve actually known her longer—she was a couple of years below me at school—but the male half of the couple is my closer friend. He’s happier than I’ve seen him in a very long time. In fact, I don’t recall seeing him so consistantly relaxed and open. It’s a beautiful thing.

I’ve been lucky to have known the group of friends that he—Christian—is a part of for fourteen years now. I’ve drifted away from them at times, but the tide always seems to wash me back to this comfortable and comforting social attol. I'm extremely fortunate to have them. With these people I don’t need to explain myself, and I understand complexity of meaning in the smallest of their statements. We know each other pretty well.

Although many of the group have established, and in some cases maintained, committed relationships before, the round of weddings has only begun recently. The wave of child-bearing began almost a decade ago, but somehow the weddings have a little more gravity for me. A pregnancy can happen quite unexpectedly, but, short of a paralytic lapse of judgement in Los Vegas, weddings are deliberate and intentional. These people have thought deeply about their commitment to their partners and decided to bare their tender feelings in public and give their unions that greater strength. It’s a wonderful thing to watch people you’ve seen behave shamefully, rant in delusion, be crushed under the wreckage of shattered romances, drag themselves through grey, debilitating ruts, flail along the cliff edge of hair-curling excess, relax, mature and bloom into balanced and satisfied adulthood. I’m quite humbled to witness these people I love so much have the courage and depth of feeling to take such a step as marriage. I couldn’t be happier for them.

It’s inspiring to see these two together. Christian just seems to have come such a long way, which is remarkably uplifting after seeing him so unhappy for so long. He seemed utterly closed to the world, his shell ready to snap shut at any moment; now he’s open and radiating for all to see. But I’m not quite as removed from all of this as I’m making out: I’ve had a bit of loving myself recently. Although it’s just in its teetering infancy, it’s pointed out to me just how closed I’ve been to the world over the past few years, and how settling and confidence-building it is to have someone choose to be with you over anyone else. I’m more patient. More at ease with myself. Kinder. Happier. It’s making me a better person all round. And who doesn’t wish those things for their friends? On the beach at Noosa on the 26th I’ll be raising a glass to all those things, and wishing them for not only my friends, but for everyone. Because wouldn’t there be so much less crap to deal with in this world if everyone had someone who genuinely adored them?