I love this castle shaped bluestone church on one hectare that is for sale out in the remote wastes of Victoria.

I got the kids to school this morning, but will have to re-think the order of delivery.
( this goes on for a bit but says relatively little )
So, about that sleep thing?

In response to the rather unfortunate name of the apple ebook reader, I give you, somewhat tangenitially;

( the iCod: )

Camp-fire gazing is very attractive, even without the camp fire, it turns out. Feeling slightly abraded. Sore throat not as bad as I had feared; just sitting there, reminding me that I'm short about eight hours of sleep over the last three nights.

So. Tired. Brain is muddly and befuddly. But in the name of winding down, some notes before bed;

This event is unlike any I've been to. More closely resembles events as described in the NSTIW camping stories I hear. I've been SCA camping with fewer than 80 or more than 800, but the hundred-camper mark is a whole new thing, really. Some sort of critical mass thingy, without being so huge as to be overwhelmed by the number of unfamiliar people.

Kids remarkably good over all. Not terribly helpful, but there was only one panic-button moment, quickly resolved. Last year they helped in the kitchen a lot, this year I did not notice that as much. Hmm.

Big mundane tent may be terminally damaged. Just the front door zip not zipping, but that is rather inconvenient at times. Need a repair or replacement by Easter. Might be time to poke at geteld plans again, but assembling same in time is unlikely. Must see to the drying of the hub spoke. Hmm.

Might be useful to announce sharp changes in overnight temperature forecast (or weather forecast in general) in evening court. A couple of interstate people tell me they were caught with inadequate bedding. Hmm.

Benches in breakfast area, or move breakfast area somewhere closer to usual dining areas? Having gas rings handy would improve access to bulk hot water for intensive dish washing around dusk, too.

I've noticed one, and only one, person remarking on the terrible dust at the event. I didn't think it was very dusty at all, but maybe I'm be more accustomed to what working farms are like in Summer? In any case, I have only to shake out some wool blankets and pack them back in their tub, and wash... one load of laundry, if I decide to put the linens in with the wool wash. That's rather less washing than for a normal four day period, so I guess it is a case of peoples mileage varying?

Have to find my hood. Think I want to make a new one anyway, but my usual one has all my good cloak pins on it.

In fact, I'm alarmingly inspired by the event. So many projects jostling for my attention; pewter spoons, pottery, kiln building, veggie growing, tent making, wood chests, chairs, sunshades... garg. Too much!

Too sleepy. Winding down, delighted, exhausted... bed time.

I think I've worked out a way to express one of the things that peeves me about the recent bouts of some Americans being outraged at what they see as evidence of Australian racism. The Hey hey it's blackface thing was the most stupid. The KFC add was another example. An Australian fashion shoot in which a white model was painted to represent a black chess piece was also controversial in some arenas.

But the thing that is irritating to me is the evident assumption that (selected?) countries outside America ought to take pains to make themselves aware of and defer to American cultural tropes.

Why is it that many Outraged Americans appear oblivious to the fact that their culture is a learned thing?

That a particular form of body paint on a particular type of person, or a popular food prepared in a specific way can have offensive overtones comes from a historical context that people in other countries will not be aware of. It's not inherently and obviously wrong. It takes a lifetime of conditioning and a pretty impressive level of obliviousness to the existence of culture at all to insist that it is. Yet people are doing that; refusing to believe that someone from another country, another culture, might not be aware of one taboo or other.

But it goes a step further even than that. Australians blink a lot when told that they have transgressed against a cultural taboo of some other country, and explain that they were unaware of said taboo. Outraged Americans either refuse to believe them, as described above, or angrily protest that the onus is on Australians (and by extension, the whole world) to educate themselves about American cultural taboos. (I do recall being taught about slavery in history class when I was in primary and secondary school, but they never taught us about the fried chicken.)

According to Outraged Americans, Australians are either overtly racist or shamefully culturally ignorant. For not having sought out and adopted the tropes of their country. Hmm.

As I stated in my book burning post, I am irritated by the fetishistic elevation of a handful of symbolic taboos to levels of extreme sensitivity and near-ritualistic observation in lieu of addressing the issues on a practical level. In the absence of any way to make a practical difference, channeling the angst, guilt or unease into ostentatious displays of prissy outrage over media that is unrelated to racism but can be interpreted as racist-looking if seen through a certain cultural filter? Not terribly helpful.

To put this simply:
Paying lip service to alien taboos about racism does not, in itself, reduce or combat racism.
Failing to observe alien taboos about racism does not, in itself, equate with endorsing racism.

Of Western nations, I expect that America would have a really high standing in the rankings for being culturally oblivious. Of course, there is a portion of the population there, as here and probably anywhere, who are more literate, educated, politically engaged and culturally sensitive than most. (And I'd be surprised if a large percentage of them were not looking at the recent controversies and ceding that perhaps there was a cultural difference clouding communication.)

But, just as I once had no clue that blackface or fried chicken are heavily imbued with American post-slavery guilt, there will be a large, large number of less educated Americans who don't know about the customs and taboos of other cultures. I would expect those same people to be the ones who are shocked and scandalised when their excited media tells them of an add for fried chicken in which their cultural taboo was transgressed against. And yet, this same demographic in any country is the one who is outraged at the idea that they ought to give a damn about the customs of some foreign land when making media for local consumption.

And I would argue that, to a certain extent, they have a right not to care. Or, if one country demands that other countries care, they must themselves observe the cultural mores of other cultures their media might be accessed by.

So, in the absence of clear Australian racial guilt touchstones (something I'm curious about) the next time some oblivious Australian media thing is blasted by Outraged Americans as being racist or culturally ignorant, I am going to get my dander up about their flagrant and unashamed use of the word "root". They use it all the time! Right out there in public where children can see and hear it! Won't somebody think of the children?!?

And on that silly note, I would like to make it clear that I will not hesitate to serve fried chicken to anyone of any skin colour (unless they are vegetarian or vegan (the people, not the chickens)).

A friend has a modest holiday house in Warrnambool and she leases it intermittently to budget conscious holiday makers. Over the years, she has tried renting it longer term but it always ended in tears and some kind of damage to her property.

Now a friend of a friend is taking the place for a year, and my friend had to get all the furniture out between the Christmas holiday renters and next weekend when the new tenant is moving in. So I got a call asking for help. So loaded the girls in the house and we went, arriving to find that I was to be the "big strong man" who moved the whitegoods. I was a little iffy about it in light of my recently recovered back, but the alternative was to leave the whitegoods to be moved by people far less strong and able then myself, so hey ho, move whitegoods I did. And now my back hurts. *wrygrin*

I've got to either a) do more exercise of a form that will keep me stronger or b) not try to wrestle refrigerators down steps using brute force. Hmm.

I've promised the girls that today is beach day, but I am taking it easy. I am draped over the sofa while they load the car with the things we need for a big day at the beach. When the mercury hits 35 degrees, I plan to hop in the car and head for the coast. The usual place where shade and water coincide has construction work messing it up this season, and our sunshade broke last Summer, so I expect we will while the day away exploring the assorted coves and bays on offer along the nearest edge of Bass Strait.

Hmm. The wind outside just got lumpy. Might be an early change or it might be the Northerly getting serious. CFA has little to report at this stage. I can only express hope that it stays that way. Times like this (heading into unfamiliar bushland with my children; stuck between a blaze and a cliff does not much appeal, to be honest) I feel that having portable internets handy would be reassuring.

Dreamed that I colluded with and confided in my sister, then found that my brother was casually smothering her with a pillow. I could not see her head, of course, but she had stopped struggling when I roared at my brother that if he did not get of her, I would kill him. He was suddenly small and vulnerable looking, but when I picked him up with the strength of shock and rage, he flexed with the muscle bound conditioning of a wild animal and held his position, holding the pillow in place. At a loss for what to do and whether there was any hope at all, I woke.

Awake, I felt as though I had lost my sister and was under threat from my brother (or some evil analog thereof). I went to the loo, had a glass of water, poked at the thing my computer was doing overnight and returned to bed feeling fucking appalling.

Before sleeping again, I realised that the scenario reflected a dynamic from a book I am reading (as an audio book, thanks ideological_cuddle). Still, this morning I am still feeling sorrowful and bereft. I am uncertain whether this is an echo of mourning for something that I've already lost, subconscious observation of a hopeless situation that I can't fight for, or whether it is completely drawn from the mind of the author of that book combined with the hot weather and my mild ear infection.

In any case, I determinedly slept too long to be excited by today's garage sales. I need to go out for groceries before it is too hot. I am hoping the excursion into strong sunlight will exorcise the nightmare, or that I will be able to kill it with coffee. Either way, I hope to feel better soon, because I feel unreasonably awful now.

And I am sorry.

A certain discussion online has been amazingly lucid and productive, almost free of mindless mawping by the usual suspects. It's normally a fraught topic, so it was almost eerie to be having a rational debate.

And then Usual Suspect #1 turned up and started in calling people idiots, calling the abstract concept under detailed and subtle discussion "stupid" (gee, thanks, that cleared that up, I'm convinced of your arguments now) and ...I tapped out a mild retort that the bos indicus-like wit of the intended recipient is unlikely to detect and probably lowered myself to his level in the eyes of others. Gah.

I blame.... the heat!

Oh yes. Dehydration, delirium, mirages and stuff. The whole thing. Lost my patience like *snaps fingers* that!

The girls wanted to see the Christmas lights so, on our way home picking up a few fresh ingredients from a supermarket, we went in search. There are some pretty impressive ones near our home, but we'd driven by those in previous nights, without it being an official "going to see the lights" excursion. So I was making my best guess as to where would have good lights.
( cut for length )
It was clear that the people here had enjoyed putting their lights up and that the adage applied was "if it's not outrageously gaudy and way, way over the top, you're doing it wrong!"

We rolled out the other end of that suburb onto a main road. The street lights were dull by comparison, but I was satisfied that the kids had seen their Christmas lights. Two were asleep before we got home.

The cats, as was foretold in the book of Beh, have taken to climbing the giftmas tree to harvest the abundant fruits one at a time, playing with each shiny bauble or figurine until they lose it under the furniture. Then they wash themselves with that typical "I meant to do that" air, then nap for a few hours before climbing the tree again in search of more prey.

I find the gradual denudation and deformation of the tree amusing and they are not doing any lasting harm, so I see no point in chasing them off.

Car is still good. Nothing fell off when I took it for a fang to Melbourne and back yesterday for Christmas Dinner #1. Still enjoying the "car as toy" phase, though not as much as with nippier vehicles. This is the largest feeling car I've owned and the QE2-ness is taking some adjusting to.

The next Christmas gathering will be a lovely low key affair at the home of one of my sisters. She has decided that, as she is the hostess and does not care to cook a formal Christmas Dinner, she will place an emphasis on canapes and pre-lunch nibbles starting mid morning, and some time in mid afternoon we will move on to dessert. She is not planning to cook a "main" course, but has said that we're welcome to use the barbecue if we are in fear that we may starve without an officially designated lunch meal.

This makes good sense to me, because we always overdo the food. By the time lunch is ready, we're close to fed anyway. Also, we rarely have an opportunity to trot out all the delicious dips, dipping items, antipasto, horderves, packets of things and jars of stuff and so forth that we have discovered, made, invented and enjoyed over the years. Ditto desserts, though I suspect that the focus will be on the savoury foods.

I finally got around to trying the new Indian restaurant (very) near my house, and was very pleased with the quality, value and service. I was chuffed to have knowledge of somewhere I could recommend to people who ask "where's a good place to eat?" or to drag visitors to when the occasion might arise. Then on Friday, betwixt the bank and the car-collection, I was passing the Indian Restaurant and stuck my head in to ask a question only to find that the place is under new management. I'm worried that it won't be as good in future, but I can only wait and see.