Tuesday 23 June 2009


I really hope Elvis never reads this, cos last Wednesday, I took a sleazy sickie off work (Elvis in in Noo York) and spent a wonderful day with my soul-sister, Georgie and basked in the pure awesomeness of her son Sascha.

We went to Ceres, where I pretty much mainlined organic carbs in the form of pumpkin bread.

CERES Community Environment Park

Cnr Roberts and Stewart Streets

Brunswick East, Victoria, Australia 3057

Phone: (03) 9387 2609
Fax: (03) 9381 1844

**Sigh** It's pretty much foodie Heaven. Anywhere that combines a free form group of muso's doing "There ain't nobody here but us chickens" with pumpkin bread and organic popcorn is about as close to Nirvana as I am ever likely to get.

Thursday 18 June 2009

If sex sells...?

Does group sex sell more?

What about if you combined group sex with a ferocious aquatic legend?

Do you think think that would sell more?

Seriously. What advertising numpty thought "Wow, let's combine the ruthless killing power and voracious appetite of the Pygopristis denticulata with the prurient taboo of group sex, make it sound all fancy-like by using French and use it to sell POTATO SNACKS?"
I particularly like the furtive"Un c'est bon, Deux c'est superbe, mais Trois... c'est fantastique" in orgasmically cursive script, nestled coquettishly above the "menage a trois".
Seriously. Marketing like this makes me want to climb to the top of the nearest clock tower.

Oh, and by the way. They taste like shit.

Monday 8 June 2009

You can never go back.

This post isn't about food. Just thought I'd get that out of the way.

Believe it or not, there are often things that happen in my life that don't involve food. Not many, mind you, but occasionally something non-food related happens. And up until now I've never felt the need to post about anything other than food.

But today is different.

Do you have a place you go, where your soul feels free? A place you know so well, that even when your eyes are clouded with tears, you can navigate your way there, because you've been there SO many times? A place you go to to heal? A place that is nurturing and whole-making and safe?

A place that is intrinsically entwined with more that half your life's worth of memories?

I went back to my place today.

After 16 weeks, here is what is left of Bronnie's farm at Taggerty.

Here is the remains of the house I helped build, the place where I took Furry and his kids early on in our relationship, to show him where my heart felt freest.

Here's the remains of the stone cottage where I probably conceived my first child.

Here's a view back to the orchard, where my first husband and I built a wattle and daub cottage.

Here's the grove of trees that used to have my hammock in it. It's here, one Summer day, I came up with the name of my first child. I swear I heard her name whispered to me on the breeze, by the fairies that used to live at Taggerty.

Here is what remains of my first kitchen where I cooked for bulk patrons for the very first time. I cooked 40 doz scones in a wood fired Aga, in a converted cow shed, wearing a crinoline dress with a baby possum on my head.

When something as dramatic as this happens, there is a shift in the memory paradigm. You know where you are, but nothing fits in with your memory map. It's like looking at two overlapping slides that don't quite meet.

It's not much, in the grand cosmic scheme of things and nothing at all compared to what others went through 16 weeks ago. But today I realised that Taggerty doesn't know me any more. Its memories of me have been wiped clean. And the laughter that echoed around the fireplace at the stone cottage, and Combat Wombat and Dribbles sitting on my lap outside the Shop and Attilas in the Mist and SBBS chasing silkies and garlic yabbies and the Delarge Garage are all places I can't go back to.

Wednesday 3 June 2009

Lions and Tiger and Bears, Oh My!

Well, not quite. But certainly dogs of all descriptions. Over a months ago, Furry and I were lucky enough to be invited to a Briard Lovers function. For those who don't know about this breed, you can read Stella Bella Bottom Smeller's story here. We were a bit nervous, as SBBS doesn't have the greatest track record with other dogs. For a neurotic, abused animal, she can get might argey-bargey when it comes to other dogs.

So it was with some trepidation that we headed off to Kepala Doggie Day Spa to meet the Briard Bunch.

After learning the benefits of the 2 second sniff, and working through Furry's neuroses ("What if she bites the ears off a Grand Pooh-Bah Champion Billion-Dollar-A-Squirt Breeding Show dog?"), we finally got up the courage to let the girls off the lead.

Yes. That is a pic of Stella Bell and Mrs Peaches, sans leads, interacting with other dogs. Who would have thought, seven years ago, when we bougfht home that skinny, scared, paranoid, scruffy mongrel, that we'd be seeing this?!

And because I am an adoptee, I got all weird and did this whole transference thing, and got teary. Because finally, Stella Bella got to meet other pups that look just like her! To the point where Furry couldn't tell who was who!

So after a morning of leaping and jumping and swimming and butt-sniffing, we retired to the BBQ area to eat.

I had heard much about the quality of foods served at these get-togethers and I wasn't disappointed. Sushi and salad and cheesecake and nibbly bits abounded. The pups were too bloody tired from all their frollicking to worry about who was sniffing whose butts and lay in the shade having a sleep.

Which is weird, given that this is pretty much a Briard's normal positioning at an outdoor dinner.

Much was made of David's Turkish delight cheesecake. And short work was made of it on the day.

We met an awesome bunch of people, whose passion for their dogs meets our own. Several of them blog, so go and visit Jeremy's photo blog or David's Art Deco building blog

Looking forward to the next meet up!