Monday, June 29, 2015

To All Christians Conditionally Loving the Gays

Mark, the artist formerly known as Sparky
I've had this battle play out on my facebook wall a few times over the years. The Gay vs. Christian battle; the conservative Christian vs. the rest of us who support them. I have a huge range of friends, from very conservative Christian, to progressive Christian, to 'used to be a Christian' and now an atheist, to gay Christian, to 'been so hurt by the church I could never go back.' That last one goes for hetro or homosexual friends.

So I ask my fellow Christian friends this: when will you learn that pushing the anti-gay agenda and calling people sinners only pushes the gay away? If your aim is to see people "saved" I can tell you the quickest way to get them to run in the other direction (aside from door knocking) is to tell them you love them, but with exception. I recently read an article entitled 5 Things Jesus Would Say to the Gay Community. It started out fine because the first point was about love but from there it just went downhill as words like sin and temptation were thrown in.

So here's my PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT for all Christians still wanting to conditionally love gays:

Gay's have heard it before. They know you think they are big, filthy sinners. Please stop telling them you love them, while making sure they also know you hate their "sin." They know! 

Mark on Miley's body. Calm down, he's not on another man, it's okay. 

Tuesday, June 23, 2015

10 Reasons I'm Totally Into Older Mums

I was into older mums years before I had my son. I used to be a nanny 7 years ago and would take the boy I cared for to Playgroup each Thursday. To start with the playgroup was incredibly small. We are talking 2-3 of us plus children, but soon it grew to be quite large. I always went out of my way to greet the new parents coming in for the first time. One of them is now one of the best friends, Paula.
She will be 47 next week. I'm 33. That age gap has rarely bothered either of us. We were forced into conversing because the boy in my care and her son loved playing together. You'd never think to match us up as friends just by looking at us but it works.
I probably didn't understand then that I was drawn to her because she was wiser and older, but I know now that that was the long-term hook; not just Paula's fantastic sense of humour.
Lovely Paula and Nathan
Now I'm back at playgroup with my own son and I look at the 3 women I am closest to there and it's hit me that I have a thing for older mums. I want to be their friend. I'm drawn to them. I want their advice but more than that I love their company. Why is that? I've been trying to figure it out since I realised it a couple months ago. This is what I've come up with so far.
The 10 Reasons I'm Totally Into Older Mums

1. Trees of Wisdom: Paula has been my closest confidant the last few years and she tells me now how much I've changed (for the better) since I was 26. It's nice to hear, but at the same time it makes me wonder how silly I must have been then. I would always take my work drama to her and just vent my little ass off. She would always blow me away with how objective and insightful she was. None of my friends my age even came close to doing that for me.

Tuesday, June 16, 2015

I've Got Tattoos in Places You Wouldn't Expect & Giveaway

6 years ago I had an orchid tattooed on my foot.
One of the only foot tattoo photos I could find - Aussie Citizenship Day 2012
That's really not shocking. Unless you're my christian mother who thinks God made me perfect the way I am (*except for my bad back). Or my father who told me when I was 10 - "if God wanted holes in your ears he would have put them there."
Apparently God didn't want me to have holes in my ears.... or eyebrows either for that matter.

That's right. My whole life I've had missing eyebrows. Oh, they have been sort of there. But only a little. Just like my boobs. Sort of there, but only a little. When I've mentioned in passing to friends that I fill my eyebrows in with a pencil there have been polite questions on whether or not I over-pluck or have done in the past. No to both. I barely have anything to pluck. I'd be a farmer's wife's dream if I was a chicken and my eyebrows were feathers.

When I saw a post come up in my feed for eyebrow tattooing I was so intrigued. I visited the Facebook page and saw heaps of photos of before and after shots of women's eyebrow tattooing. Which ironically is also called feathering.

Tuesday, June 9, 2015

Confronting my LOUD Neighbours

I try to remind myself that we've had nice neighbours at different points in our married life because the memory of them can get lost in all the absolute shite we have had to put up with from the other neighbours that suck. Ask any of my friends and they will tell you that I share many stories of shitty neighbours with them. We've even had a shooting across the road on the night my son was born.

Well, last Thursday night, my husband was studying for his level 2 exam of the CFA (Chartered Financial Analyst), the exam that he's studied every evening and weekend for since the beginning of the year. And my neighbour had a rip-roaring party going on next door.

Wednesday, June 3, 2015

Child Slavery and Playdough

                  Note: The recipe below does not include cream of tartar because I have not posted the stove-top recipe.

It's a playdough making day. The idea must have been stuck in my head after seeing a playdough penis meatball tower on Hugzilla blog last week. Looking back at these photos of my son that I took last year made me realise it's been way too long since I made the stuff for him. If you've never tried making it yourself you'll be blown away with how easy it is to do. Growing up in a large family meant my mum was always making it.

My little brother notoriously became known as the goldfish murderer when he decided to drop all the playdough into the fish tank one rainy day back in 1992. They were over salted sardines by the time he was through.

Yup there's a lot of salt in homemade playdough. I used to put it in my mouth every time I played with it... on rainy days back in 1992.

By the time I was 11 my mum had enrolled me in a babysitting course, because once I hit 12 I would be legally able to babysit all (five) of my gorgeous younger annoying siblings FOR F***ING FREE!