What am I babbling on about?

I was watching the telly the other night when up popped Jamie Oliver and I found myself being sucked in to the vortex that was, Jamie Oliver’s food revolution. I was totally horrified to see that a whole classroom full of six or seven year old American children couldn’t identify a potato, a tomato, a cauliflower or any other fresh vegetable you cared to mention.

I was sitting there with my mouth wide open, totally gobsmacked.

Now I knew that some children thought that eggs came from the carton and milk came from the supermarket but to be faced with this scale of food ignorance just blew my mind. It is easy as an Australian to dismiss this as just an American thing but as we all know, where America goes the rest of the world follows.

What are we doing to our children?

There are reports that journalists are not allowed to photograph anything within 65 feet of the oil booms.

My head is a messy place at the moment, I have been researching reports of leaking methane and benzene in the Gulf of Mexico and the news isn’t good.

So today I have been listening to loud music, feeling sorry for myself and playing in the mud.

If you mouse over the photos you can read a description. I don’t have the energy to say much more. I am shattered today. I think the pot will look good when it is finished.

I’m sorry or you’re welcome would seem to be equally valid responses.

At the end of that last sentence I wandered off and fed the chooks and now I have lost my train of thought.

I worry that our food is killing us and poisoning our children. I look at the number of children with life threatening allergies, with different behaviours and with birth defects. I wonder what exactly is normal behaviour? I worry that our drinking water is so contaminated with pesticides that nothing is safe to eat at all. I think about the end of the Mayan calendar in 2012 and that bothers me a whole lot more than the Y2K bug ever did.

I worry about the unexplained deaths of bats, bees and frogs.

I worry that Tasmania has an incredibly high rate of death from cancer and then I wonder if that is linked to pesticides that are still in use in Australia that have been banned in the US, Europe and Great Britain?

I worry about endocrine disruptors in our food.

I see the signs of a poisoned planet in our frogs.

In our native animals.

In our children.

I worry that all the signs are there, that we as a species are hurtling towards disaster and we are too self absorbed to notice. I worry about HAARP technology, I worry about the oils spills that aren’t reported and I worry that the incredible amount of salt in chocolate will make my blood pressure go through the roof.

Luckily for me I have my blog so I can just dump all these worries here onto you as well and then I can wander off outside and look at my terribly neglected vegetable garden and think about doing some work before spring.

I am finding it too difficult to maintain the veggie garden properly in its current state so “The Spouse” cut an old water tank in half for me and I am in the process of filling it up with compost, sheep poo and mushroom compost ready for spring planting. We are going to re-design the garden so that all the beds are raised, which will make gardening a whole lot easier.

The newest chook pen is right next to the veggie garden but the chooks have abandoned it. *sigh* I kept on forgetting to lock the girls up overnight and when I had the piggies, Mother hen decided to move her brood to a native cherry tree next to the pig sty and that is where they are  roosting now.

They are also laying their eggs somewhere miles away down the bush and “The Spouse” is quite grumpy with me. He really dislikes chooks and I am eternally promising that this time, I will lock them up and that I will clean up after them and that their eggs are delicious. Except I forget to lock them up and “The Spouse” finds the chook shit on the verandah before I do and I am sure the eggs are very nice except I can’t  bloody well find them. Sneaky, secretive things chooks.

It is hard being me and “The Spouse” reckons it is even harder living with me.

Luckily I am easily distracted and even though I think deep, depressing thoughts about the environment, little things make me smile.

What do you think the fourth seagull from the right is thinking? Hmm wondering if maybe he could become an accountant?

Our class has been watching this video as well as the news every day.  We are sad that the birds are covered with oil and they are stuck on the beach.  What can we do to help?  PLEASE WRITE US BACK…LOVE, ROOM 110

I don’t know what you can actually physically do to help room 110, as I am Australian and thousands of miles away from this disaster. I am sure there are plenty of practical things you can do that don’t involve picking up oily and distressed sea creatures though.

You could choose a wildlife organisation and ring them up and see what they need. I do know that volunteer rescue organisations are always chronically short of money so maybe you could organise a fundraiser, a raffle, something like that and then donate the money to an organisation of your choice.

Here in Tasmania a few years ago the community got together and knitted woolly jumpers for the penguins to wear  as part of an oil spill response pack. ( a jumper is a sweater)

Here is a web page with a list of organisations you can contact

I assume that The American Red cross would know how you can help and I am sure that The ASPCA would be another good organisationto get in touch with.

Now as for what you can do in the longer term, that requires a bit of a think. Have a look around your home and really look at everything that you have. The ice cubes in your refrigerator, the throw away plastic bottle in your rubbish bin, all your gadgets, the family car and the clean clothes that you are wearing today.

Everything that enables you to have a comfortable life takes energy.

We are all responsible for this oil spill.

We all need to change our habits.

Reduce your consumption, it is as simple as that. Dry your clothes outside on the washing line rather than in a dryer. Put a sweater on when you are cold rather than turning the heater up.Turn the lights off that you aren’t using. Unplug your mobile phone charger from the wall when you aren’t using it. Dont leave the television on standby. Turn off the microwave when you aren’t using it. Think about that next trip in the car, is it necessary?

Look at how many green or red or blue little lights are on in your house while you are sleeping of a night. Do all those electrical items really need to be sitting there all night silently, sucking power just to save us a few seconds time when we want to use them.

Don’t leave the water running when you brush your teeth in the mornings. Put the plug in the sink when you peel potatoes. Choose environmentally friendly products and ask for organic produce. I am sure you can all think of a zillion more things to do to reduce your own consumption.

Saying NO to plastic is a really good thing to do.

Small things. They are all small things but from little things big things grow.

One person does have the power to change the world.

The ancient trees cry out to my soul as they are cut down.

Once the ocean is dead what will become of us?

I am hurtling towards the last of my year of firsts and I miss my mother desperately.

I can feel the weight of depression heavy in my chest, a hard lump underneath my breastbone and I can taste its sour flavour at the back of my throat. I can feel it clutching at me at the edges of my mind.

As the heaviness threatens to drag me down, I could easily leap into the darkness and stay there submerged in my own sorrow but I don’t have the time to linger on self absorption, I have wasted enough time already.

A cup was stuck in the mould and I ripped it in my impatience. As I smoothed the jagged edges and altered its shape I became lost in the moment and a series has been born.

I will be exhibiting in the Tasmanian Ceramics Association’s annual exhibition in August, the theme of the exhibition is the seven deadly sins. I cant decide between greed, pride or sloth as my sin of choice, either way this cup and its resemblance to a jagged tree stump will be my interpretation of the brief.

Our sloth, our laziness, our apathy in the face of a world on the brink of catastrophe. Our pride, our vanity, our overriding arrogance that we can control nature and bend to the earth to our will is uppermost in my mind. The essence of our destuctive human natures will be represented in these forms.

They wont be blue like the picture above as I need something harsher than that to get the idea out of my head. Blood and ashes, graffiti and despair. There wont be any hope in these pieces at all, as they will contain my anger but maybe it is better to have my anger contained in these vessels. We will see.

I have been trying not to think about the birds in these photos.

All I have heard reported in the media is the failed attempts to plug the leak and stories about police not allowing access to the heavily polluted beaches. Admittedly I don’t watch much television and a lot of my information about the oil disaster is coming from twitter.

So I will ask you my American friends what is happening on the ground in Louisiana? According to reports on twitter the oil has reached Florida.

I clicked over to this site www.ifitwasmyhome.com which was able to give me an idea of the scale of the oil disaster.

I have zillions of words swirling around inside my head but none of them will behave for long enough to come together in a straight line. So I will finish up with a photo of the Wedgetail Eagle that was in my backyard the other day. These birds are critically endangered here in Tasmania and I wonder how long it will be before they are just a memory.

Then I grew up and so did Australia. I grow bok choy in my garden and make sushi for my grandchildren. Sunday lunch might be a Thai green curry or Moroccan lamb. Australia has benefitted greatly from our multiculturalism and there is a lot of hope for the future.

But I feel that there is a black cloud of doom lurking just over the horizon and it has to do with our politicians and the popular media’s attitude to this generation of boat people. If our leaders demonstrate intolerance and the media reports in a frenzy of protectionist nationalism what hope is there for ordinary people to be heard?

I was down at the market last year and my son and his mate where looking at tshirts with humourous quotes printed on them. Deeper into the rack of t-shits were some with, not quite racist but certainly horrible slogans such as, This is Australia we drink beer, play cricket and speak English and other such small minded intolerant shit written on them.

My son’s friend wanted to buy a t-shirt that said, piss off we’re full.

Anyone that knows me in real life knows that when something pisses me off I get loud and  *Hmmphy*.  I explained to my son and his mate exactly why I found the t-shirts so distasteful. The salesman enthusiastically pushed his view that the t-shirts were just a joke and I pushed my view that they were crap. I reminded the stallholder that we are all boat people here mate and he would do well to remember it.

I huffed off from the stall and loudly lectured the boys on tolerance, well aware that I was being extremely intolerant of the bogan twat selling the shirts.

The experience left a sour taste in my mouth and I have been meaning to write about racism and intolerance for a while now. But I really don’t have the words other than to remind those that cry the loudest about the perils of the boat people to remember where you came from.

To remember that except for the Koori people we are all descended from immigrants here in Australia.

To remember that we are all the same under our skins and that hate begets hate.

Fe photographed two opposing protests at the Villawood detention centre and the APP have been commenting on her blog post, The face of Racism

My friend Anne,also writes eloquently here in her piece, aptly titled the lucky country and I would recommend that you go and read both blog pieces and then tell me what you think.

I have needed a new desktop for a long time now, the one I was using was ex council stock that Mum and I bought on tender three or so years ago and it was very very slow. The spouse’s views on computers are unprintable, he sees them as an extravagant waste of time and money. Where as I, on the other hand plan to take over the world via the internet and so I need a new computer dammit.

After lots of angst serious thinking both Vonnie and I decided to not make the change to Macs. As much as we lusted after a Mac we just couldn’t afford them as well as shiny new lenses for our cameras.

And now my brand new computer is broken aaargh and before you say anything, remember the zombies.

I am going to take it back into the shop today and hopefully they will just replace it.

But, my lovelies the computer is the least of my worries, today is the appointment with the head honcho at the paediatric unit of the hospital. The fact that the most senior doctor there wants to discuss Amy and Isaac’s blood test results scares me witless. Veronica wrote about it here if you are interested.

I had been hoping to do some work over the Easter break but time is just racing away from me. I will update this post when I get home from the hospital this afternoon. Fingers crossed it isn’t horrible news.

Updated: The paediatric appointment was just a formality, there is nothing to worry about at all. I am sure Vonnie will write about it soon. Thank you very much for your kind comments. I am sorry if I worried you.

The lovely people at Harvey Norman replaced my computer. So now I will be able to continue on with my plans for world domination muawahahaha…….

There are two students in my Art theory class who need the simplest of concepts explained to them in great depth making a simple fifteen minute introductory session, stretch into an hour of eyeball stabbing frustration.

There is also one rather large bombastic young man who very seriously told me that he had never been a teenager because he had been a chef at 15. I couldn’t think of a reply to that statement as I was trying not to choke on my coffee.

At least in this group we don’t have the obligatory over sharer who feels compelled to regale the class with anecdotes of  their time living in a grass hut, building fires from camel dung  and drinking yak milk smoothies or some such other sensory delight.

To be totally honest I know that I am the flippant smart arse in the group who, when things get particularly grim in the stupidity stakes bursts out with a one liner and of course that wastes more time.

Sometimes listening to one of the students carry on I feel like Yoda is on my shoulder whispering to me, “The stupid is very strong in this one.”  I am in danger of developing a nervous wince when ever they open their mouths and even now I am shuddering as I remember a particularly painful question and answer time.

On the upside the class is interesting and I keep on thinking of that old saying no pain no gain.There are also some really talented people in the group who are as frustrated as I am. I just wish that  sometimes the painfulness of being in a group situation where the class moves along at the pace dictated by the slowest learner in the group wasn’t quite so sharp.