The world is a filthy mass of coal dust and carbon emissions, you say? Why yes, yes it is, is my response — a response that is echoed by billions and one that often includes “how about we fix it?” Great question!
I’m a solution-oriented person. Thankfully I’m not the only one or we’d still be staring at rocks not realising their potential for tools. …
Oh, America. America. If I thought you deserved it I’d beseech a god to shed its grace on thee. But, as I awoke to the entirely anticipated images of white, outraged, and rights-obsessed males storming Congress I’ve come to the conclusion that the gods are disinclined to acquiesce to that request (means no). And rightly so. It’s been such a long time coming.
America truly is a beautiful land. Beautiful, for its spacious skies, amber waves of grain, and purple mountain majesty. …
I’m living in a pandemic lockdown with my ex. What started as a summer holiday became an endless reminder of why we divorced in the first place. We’ve played together now for 31 long years — one of them dating, 20 of them married, and 10 amicably divorced. Why is my eye twitching as I write this? Seriously, the whole thing has been a rollercoaster ride, a daytime soap, a Shakespearean tragedy played out on a stage surrounded by an enthralled and often perplexed audience.
It must be said, for the benefit of all who marvel at my expert portrayal of the eternal optimist, that amicability has been a choice, and often a ruse. I’m a peacemaker by nature. I choose to get along and, for the sake of our daughter, I continue to think of us a family unit of sorts; a broken up dysfunctional one, a comedy of errors if you will — of which food is often the villain. …
It’s 1997. I’m 28 years old and living in the beautiful island state of Tasmania, the last bastion of Australian anti-gay sentimentality and dubbed by international media as “Bigots Island” due to some of the harshest anti-homosexual laws in the world.
In those days I was a Mormon, a seriously square peg trying to fit into an even more serious round hole. An emerging feminist, I’d been struggling with the faith I was raised in since my early teens and now, as a young woman, a wife, and a young mother, it was becoming ever more apparent that the religious community I existed in was not a place for individual expression, much less freedom of thought, and certainly not an ideal place for anyone who wasn’t white, straight, and male. …
‘Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house,
Not a creature was stirring, not even the spouse.
The stockings were packed, but no one knew where,
And as mum sat exhausted, the cat sat and stared.
The teens were all snuggled, tucked up in their beds,
While visions of TikTok vids danced in their heads.
The husband was snoring, the dog at his feet,
He wasn’t the one with a deadline to meet.
He wasn’t the one who wrote all the cards,
Or picked out the presents, much less wrapped the damn things
or wrote the friggin tags, or even wrote the card for his own mother for chrissakes! …
One of the things I have become quite famous for over the years is my Christmas tree. I’m serious, it. is. epic! I’m talking 12 feet of luscious composite spruciness, bedecked with exquisite bling from all around the world… and yes that does include Taiwan and China. But they’re glass, people, glass. And not just any glass either. I’m talking handblown (mouthblown?) baubles from Czechoslovakia. Porcelain figurines from Russia, silk flowers from Marakesh, and resin from, well, wherever.
Tinsel you ask? Au contraire!
Swathes of silk and organza? Plaited cord intertwined with strings of tiny glistening beads? Yes, that’s the kind of opulence I’m talking about. Thousands of dollars worth of twinkling, sparkling, glittering stuff. …