randomstuff

My week has been quite exhausting.
I'm amazed that Mr M is still going (and stronger than me as well), as he's had so much more on his plate, and with less sleep to run on. God he's amazing.

I've had long days at work, dealing with a head cold, physical work moving a tonne of books, lost child/frantic parent issues, patron complaints, looming deadlines, and an annual performance appraisal (mine) where I ended up hearing about my team leaders' husbands' depression.
*phew*

Anyway - following on from the previous post and comments, I offer you glimpse into a fabulous picture book "Princess Max", and a recipe for the best cupcakes ever!

"Max knew he looked beautiful! Being beautiful was one of the things that made swaltzing feel so good! Max enjoys swaltzing even more than squashing snails and spreading Vegemite on the cat. But when his favourite cousin, Marty, calls him a 'weirdo', Max has to decide what he wants most of all."
'Princess Max' by Laurie Stiller, illus Gregory Rogers. 2001. Random House, Sydney.

Frosty Lemon Cakes
Beat 125g butter with zest of 1 large lemon and 1 cup caster sugar, until creamy.
Gradually add 4 eggs and beat well.
Fold through 1 + 3/4 cups almond meal and 1 cup self-raising flour.
Spoon into those patty cake papers in cupcake tray. It makes about 2 of those little-cupcake trays worth.
And yes you do need the papers otherwise you end up having to eat the bottom half of the cupcake out of the tin.
Which probably isn't that much of a problem really.
Now I think about it.
Oh yeah, and bake 20 minutes.While hot, remove onto wire rack and pour over a mix of 3/4 of a cup of white sugar and 1/4 of a cup of lemon juice.
Let stand for a couple of minutes.
Scoff.

This recipe has won over in-laws, old ladies, baking snobs, and scruffy boys at work.

I live a charmed life

Nothing much has ever gone wrong.
Sure, floods, famine and divorce.
Infidelity, abortion and a propensity for falling over in a most spectacular fashion.
Throw in a few household moves, requisite crazy relos, and a lack of fondness for exercise.
But that's as bad as it gets really.

I know I'm pretty lucky.
Especially as there's been not many deaths.

A grandparent when I was a child.
A schoolyard crush
An old boss
A partners grandparent
2 workmates
An email friend
Another partners grandparent
A friend of a friend

And now tomorrow.

I'm going to my first funeral tomorrow.
Fancy getting to 30 without a funeral.
Going to one, I mean.
*sighs*

Anyway. I'm kinda weirded out.
It could be because it's new and different and I don't know what's going to happen.
It could be the 'meet the extended family thing'.
It could be that the fat free gingerbread bikkies I made for the wake have turned out like the love child of a cardboard mother and a sandstone father. Or 2nd mother. Or.

Oh whatever.
I'm going to bed now.

Qart-two

Go on, arty folks.
Here's the submission details.
Send the info far and wide and get that queer art happening!

Queer Art, Queer art, Queerart, Qart!

Yesterday Miss R and myself sat in the park in the hot afternoon sun and did some cross-stitch and drank beer.
My mother thinks that's truly decadent behaviour.
I think it should be a regular event.

Then we talked with Miss B and Miss K at the pub, about setting up a drawing circle. Informal and lighthearted but a great excuse to be social and do a bit of art.

I mentioned that, despite not being a dedicated watcher of TV shows, (given half a chance I will flick channels continuously), I am a fan of this show (when I remember when it's on).

Then we tried to convince Miss B to enter a drawing in the upcoming Qart (Queer Art) show.

So here's a call to any of you gentle readers who may have artworks that you would wish to exhibit. Get cracking and let us know.
Sure it's run by bisexuals - but be reassured that we don't mind giving some wall/plinth space to monosexuals either. Hell, we don't mind what sexuality you are, or aren't, just join in the festivities when they come around.
I'll post a link to more detailed info on entering your works a little later.

Qart is being held in a gallery space this time, so we aren't constrained by the gentle censorship of a cafe.
Although an art show in a cafe is a wonderful thing for exposure.
And a gallery show - while it does not get the same passing 'trade' - does give a chance for the filthier works to get seen.
I'd like to hope that Bi-NSW will be able to manage 2 shows a year, to cover both bases.

Now all I have to do is finish designing and stitching my cross-stitch Qart entry.
Wish me luck.

2 out of 3 ain't bad

There have been only a few things that have made me angry in a 'seeing-red' kinda way over the past year.
And in the space of one evening last week, with facing up and talking to folks, I cleared 2 of them away.
Sorta.
I can still feel the cautious prickly tentacles there.
I can see a great deal of the problem is with myself.
Perhaps I'm just too sensitive. Perhaps I just think things are more serious than other people think.
Still. I am very glad that things are getting better.
*breathes out*

***************
In other news, work has been full on.
Getting back into the saddle with the Bi-NSW stuff.
Moving and opening up my new section in the Library.
Moving into my new office. (Oh it is so big and beautiful!).
And then throw in a dollop of Children's Book Week, 3 visiting authors, a few hundred children visiting, weekend and evening events; and you get a pretty happy but tired Miss Y.

Yesterday off work to swan around the shops, have boozy lunch with my Mum, and look for a birthday pressie.
While the perfect pressie eluded me. I came home with a lovely haul which included:
- Black, purple, and red tulle
- An old pipe and pipe stand
- Black surgical gloves that almost fit
- A black t-shirt ready to be decorated
- Goth-y bandaids from a cute japanese store
- new white cross stitch fabric

Feels like today is made for domestic pottering.
The sun is shining. All the doors of the house are opened.
Nice new folks (and dog) moving in next door.

It's lovely when your days' biggest decision is whether or not to do a clothes wash because of the dark clouds blowing in from the south.

Pearls and beer on a sunny day.

So I got the date of the marriage rally wrong a few times - it was actually on just last Sunday.
And hey. I actually made it along.

A few phone calls with Miss Z.
A bit of last minute costume dramas.
A hastily prepared placard with thanks to Mr M.
Red and white sun dress, white buttoned gloves, pearls, red felt and feather hairpiece, sunnies, and a placard made from a white cardboard shopping bag.
Perfect for a femme-y march down Oxford St on a sunny spring day.
Miss Z wore her veil like a cape and the wedding vows screen-printed on her black singlet.

Wonderfully, there was a nice contigent of 'messy' folks - you know - those folks that don't fit into the nice neat boxes people like to create, of gender, relationships, and sexuality.
I was afraid it would be a march full of pretty gay boys and doting lesbian mums intent on proving that they are so normal and not a threat to the status quo, that they should be allowed to marry.

Dear Mz N made a speech that included all the variations around. Starting with her rousing twisted rendition of the national anthem.
A couple of norms didn't realise she was taking the piss at first, and started to join in.
Until she veered off on a lyrical tangent of course.
Wonderful!

The Socialist rent-a-crowd was there. And I was torn between appreciating their organisational abilities and the extra people, and feeling cranky that they were talking Iraq while the rest of us were thinking we were at a same-sex marriage rally. Time and place folks.

I was glad to see a few folks who I know are getting hitched soon due to the luck of their british citizenship. Lovely to see that they weren't resting on the laurels of such luck, and supporting others who have no such options.

In marvellous trashy queer fashion, a few folks took advantage of the march going past a bottle-o, and took a detour, joining the parade of people a minute later with a six-pack stowed in the backback.
My neighbour was one of them, offered me a cold one when they got to the end. Beer-drinking with a view of the trees, the activist truck-stage, the Archibald Fountain, and St Mary's Cathedral. I declined the offer - but appreciated their fine sense of aesthetics.

The day came to an early end, via pubs and a pub dinner. Wandering home through the back streets, placard still in hand, cardie buttoned against the chill evening air. Eventually crashing early to bed all worn out.

Happy Families (tm)

Tomorrow is that "National Day of Action" Marriage Equality Rally.
Friends are wondering if I'm going along.
I toyed with the idea of painting up a sign saying:

I wanna marry my tranny
whatever their birth certificate says!

But do want to get married?
Do I join in to support those who do?
Do I waffle on for a page here on the pro's and cons of the debate and bore you all senseless?

Anyway. No rally for me tomorrow.
'Cos tomorrow is a happy families day! My partner and I are looking after his god-daughter, and hopefully catching up with his brother.

Married or not. We create our own families within our communities. There may be legal brick walls here and there, and this is sad.
But we mustn't forget that we create our own worlds.
Whatever the arguments for establishing an equal legal footing for queer relationship recognition, I just hope people argue for what should happen. Rather than taking the victim stance of 'my life is fucked up and it's the governments fault'.

And p.s. - while we're arguing for equal rights 'n' all - how about remembering that discrimination on the basis of bisexuality isn't covered in NSW.
Gay? Lesbian? Trans? Assumed to be any of these three?
You're sweet.
Bi?
Sorry mate.

There's a whole segment of the queer community out there who are legally unprotected from basic discrimination regarding their sexuality.
Kinda puts the whole marriage thing into a bit of perspective, doesn't it kids.