May 2009

I will work out the title, later…

by frogpondsrock on May 24, 2009

in ceramics,Family,whingeing

Generally the title of a post will pop into my head and the words will just flow. Some days the words take on a life all of their own and seem to spill onto the paper of their own volition. Other days are like this one where the words don’t want to come out to play at all. I am trying to coax them out letter by letter but the bloody things are being coy this week and in their shyness they become all jumbled.

I have been flatstick busy and I am missing my blog but by the same token I haven’t really had anything to say.

As we head closer to winter I can feel a darkness of spirit settling about myself. I wouldn’t describe myself as being depressed, not by a long shot but my mood of late has been bleak.

I am worried that Veronica will end up in a wheelchair by the time that she is thirty. The birth of Isaac has seemed to really accellerate her Ehlers Danlos syndrome. She is dislocating  left, right and centre. It is like her EDS has decided to leap out of hiding and announce to the world, “Hi I am here and I am going to really fuck you over.”

My son David has started to smoke the occassional cigarette because he is stressed. David is a well educated boy who knows the dangers assosciated with smoking and he has decided to smoke anyway. I am heartsick.

# David has now decided to stop smoking. Hmmm, amazing what getting sprung will do.

Mum isn’t allowed to drive anymore so I am officially Mum’s chauffeur. I wish that I had a chauffeurie type hat though.

The accelerated destruction of the magnificent old growth forests in the Upper Florentine breaks my heart. Despite a global fall in demand for woodchips these forests are being destroyed and chipped. Total Fucking insanity.

And just in case Tasmanians were in any doubt about the direction our government is taking us the Premier has just recently announced that State Cabinet voted to abolish the Department of Environment, Parks, Heritage and the Arts as part of a cost-cutting drive. More Fucking insanity.

In other equally depressing news I received a reply from Woolworths assuring me that things on that horrific factory farm are being fixed as we speak. Right and all the pigs  are growing wings as well are they?

So these are a few of the things that are whizzling around in my head at the moment. But it is not all bad.

Mum is booked in for a quick zap of radiation treatment next week. Well five quick zaps to be precise. The radiation will shrink some tricky little bone mets in the back of Mum’s skull as well as one in her jaw. Unfortunately this means that Mum is going to lose her hair. So we went up to a zombie free section of the hospital and had fun trying on the wigs.

i-love-you-mum-xox

I have managed to squeeze some work in, I packed and fired the small kiln on Thursday. I am really excited to see how this lot of work turns out. Jientje’s tumblers are in this firing, as well as some side plates that I have been mucking about with.

the-small-kiln

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moon-through-the-trees

untitled

moon-rise

they-danced-by-the-light-of-the-moon

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Ehlers Danlos Awareness Month

by frogpondsrock on May 11, 2009

in Ehlers Danlos Syndrome,Veronica

Hi all. It’s Veronica here, guest posting for Mum. Or more correctly, copy/pasting my  recent post into her blog so that this info is over here too.

*****

It’s EDS awareness month, which I am doubting is taken seriously enough in Australia. Goodness knows that doctors everywhere seem to be hideously undereducated about EDS.

We are not freaks. Not all of us can contort ourselves into a tiny little package, nor does ‘skin involvement’ necessarily mean that we can stretch our skin great amounts. My skin involvement is simply a bunch of stretchmarks showing up for no reason at all and getting worse, despite me not gaining any weight, the worst of them are at the back of my knees. I injure easily, take forever to heal and my scars stay purple for ages, before turning silver and widening/raising (there is a medical word here that I have forgotten). Also, you can generally find bruises all over me, even if I haven’t done anything to myself. My most recent ones were on the back of my hand (seriously, wtf?) and an orange sized one on the back of my calf. I’m also stretchy in my skin, but with everything else, it seems like nothing much. Sigh

Most of us don’t even realise we are different when our fingers bend back further and our elbows hyper-extend. I showed my brother a photo album of EDS photos the other day, only to have him reply ‘What’s so special about that? And that? And that one?’ Well nothing, IF YOU HAVE EDS. If you don’t, you’re left looking at the flexi people and thinking, ‘that looks like it hurts.’

I think one of the most common misconceptions about EDS is that our dislocations don’t hurt. Unfortunately, our dislocations DO hurt just as much as a sport/injury induced dislocation that you might have suffered. Even more unfortunately, our dislocations happen more easily and more often that normal people. It’s just the way it goes.

There is a huge range of abilities within the same EDS spectrum. Some people are only very mildly affected, while others may experience worse symptoms and be unable to do everyday things.

I suppose that it makes sense that I am having a crash* in the middle of EDS awareness month. What better way to make everyone aware than feeling like shit for a while? Not a very pleasant way, unfortunately.

Oh well. I do know that a bunch of Tasmanian doctors are getting a crash course in EDS management simply because of my diagnosis. Like BendyGirl said, if me getting a diagnosis helps just one other person going through what I’m going through, then it’s worth it. It sucks, but it sucks more to be told it’s all in your head.

Video via BendyGirl.

To find out more about EDS and HMS (Hypermobility Syndrome), you can visit here or here.

*A crash generally happens when I’ve been pushing myself too hard. Getting over one pre children used to leave me in bed for a week, just sleeping and resting. Post children is a slightly different matter, as bed rest is something hard to come by. I reckon this crash is just caused by 4+ months of sleepless nights catching up with me (late pregnancy is not conducive to sleeping through the night any more than having a newborn baby) and keeping the household running/fed/clean(ish).

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I arrived home one afternoon to find Jeffrey quite excited and a bit puffed out as well. Apparently a piglet had wandered into our yard and Jeffrey was so overcome by visions of roast suckling pig that he had spent quite a bit of energy trying unsuccessfully to catch the piglet.I started to have a bit of a look as well but there wasn’t any sign of a piglet at all. So we just threw extra chook food about the place hoping the piglet would return.

At first light the next morning I looked out the bathroom window and there was the pig eating the chook pellets. My first thought was, mmm tasty. My second thought was, she is far too small to eat, there is only enough meat on her for a good sized roast. I crept out onto the balcony gently calling,  “here pig pig pig, here piggy pig pig.” She took one look at me and scooted back into the bush. So I threw half a loaf of bread out to where she had been eating and went back inside to wait.

It didn’t take long for the chooks to discover the bread and once the pig saw the chooks eating away merrily, she came out of hiding. I told Jeffrey that the pig was back and that there was no way he was allowed to kill her as she was far too small to eat yet. She was about the size of a fat corgi and probably about 3 months old.

The chooks were a bit nervy around the piglet but she seemed relieved to finally have some company and started to follow them around. My chooks were totally free range at this stage because I generally forgot to lock them up of a night, so the piglet moved into the hen-house as well.

After about two weeks the pig was totally at home here and would come when I called because she  knew that I meant food. She was still very wary of Jeff and Dave and quite frightened of Harry the dog. She had totally bonded with the chooks, though they weren’t quite sure what to make of her.

I named her Sweety because she was such a little sweety and because it is also an easy name to call out Sweeeeeteeeee.

Six months later  it was time to eat Sweety. I hadn’t fed her that morning and everytime she saw me come outside she would run up to me and snicker at me for her breakfast.When it was time for the men to kill her I took out a bucket of food for her and she followed me to the killing tree. Sweety was grunting happily into her breakfast with no thoughts in her sweet piggy brain other than “mmm breakfast yummo” when she was quickly killed.

A friend later commented that Sweety must have been the unluckiest pig on earth to wander into our yard.

I disagree.

Sweety lived a happy free range life. She was never locked up once and grew big enough so that Harry the dog was frightened of her. She had a lovely big wallow, a mixture of pasture and bush to free range in and she slept in the chook pen in an old water tank filled with hay. She truly thought she was a chook and spent most of her time laying in the sun with two old hens. She would get very excited and squeal with glee when I watered the fruit trees because she absolutely loved to be squirted with the hose.

Sweety lived a happy life. She was also delicious.

This is one of the reasons that the absolutely appalling images of the factory farmed pigs that I wrote about yesterday upset me so much.

That we allow intelligent friendly animals to be kept in horrendous conditions so that we can have cheap pork absolutely appalls me. As I said to Jayne I have put a few extra nails in my soapbox because I expect to be standing on it for quite some time.

Now my lovelies you can help if you want to. You can copy/paste this letter that I have pinched from Veronica and email it to Woolworths.

Dear Woolworths,

I am horrified to see how out of touch Woolworths is with its suppliers that it takes trespassing activists to let the company know about the sickening conditions of the pigs in your suppliers’ care that has come to light recently.

If you think a list of suggested improvements and a follow up once a fortnight is an appropriate response you are deluded. People are incensed about this! I would be on their doorstep daily if I valued my reputation and animal welfare meant anything to me apart from brand image.

I think the company has under-estimated how much this has and will continue to tarnish your reputation. I am shocked that this is how the company wants to be seen.

I myself will not be buying pork products from Woolworths until you can satisfy me that they are being ethically produced in a humane environment.

Sincerely

[Your Name Here]

Woolworths contact form.

You can click over to Animals Australia and have a look there or you can go over to SaveBabe.com and help them out.

Now for the record I am not telling people to become vegetarians because I am a deadset carnivore. I am simply asking that you think about where your supermarket meat actually comes from. If just one person asks their local supermarket where they source their meat I will be a happy camper.

Cheers Kim

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I was watching stateline, a local news and current affairs programme last night when a segment reduced me to tears. A northern Tasmanian piggery was visited by animal rights activist Emma Haswell and the images that were shown on television last night were absolutely horrific in their cruelty.

I just could not believe my eyes. The conditions inside this factory farm were just atrocious.Pigs were lying in these tiny, tiny steel cages being eaten alive by maggots in open wounds and as the tears were streaming down my face I felt terribly ashamed and appalled that we could allow animals to live in such horrible conditions.

The piggery that was shown last night supplied Woolworths with pork. Well Fuck you woolworths! And an even bigger Fuck You to factory pig farmers. I absolutely refuse to eat pork, ham and bacon from now on unless I know that it was ethically produced.

No more ‘Mrs Nice Guy’ wandering around the supermarket thinking about some pork choppies because they were on special.No Fucking way is my consumer dollar going to support this hideous industry.

No Fucking Way…

This video is from SaveBabe.com and whilst I found it uncomfortable to watch it is like a holiday camp prepared to the Tasmanian factory farm.

More videos from Animals Australia

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