Take away the cat...

This is brilliant. Garfield minus garfield

It really does read as a part-hilarious, part-heartwrenching study in mental illness.

Operation Foodbox: Roast of Doom

Wednesday was the big day of Fuck the Supermarket, aka Operation FoodBox. I bundled up a stack of food and cooking stuff and headed over to my friend G's house to prepare a sumptuous roast. I make amazing roast vegetables, and had been wanting to try a vegetarian roast I'd spotted in the supermarket. I'm not usually a huge fan of meat analogues, but the good ones tend to be extremely good, especially if prepared well and served with decent side dishes. I wanted to experiment with this one, whilst also using up some of the potatos and such.

Unfortunately, the hideous rental market in Sydney has lead to my partner and I agreeing to mnove into an apartment with a non-working oven, which we're still waiting to get fixed. For someone as fixated with roasting and baking as I am, it's horribly inconvenient.

So! I headed to G's with roasting pans, potatos, kumara, onions, garlic cloves, eggplants, tomatos, capsicums, and the vegetarian roast thingy. While I busied myself chopping the vegetables and arranging them on the oiled trays, I put equal portions of white wine and apple/cranberry juice in a saucepan to boil down to about a third of their original quantity. It makes a fantastic glaze.

I rubbed the vege roast with olive oil and dried italian herbs, cut deep cuts into it, then placed it in the middle of one of the trays of vegetables. I poured the reduced glaze over the roast and vegetables, sprinkled some italian herbs and paprika, then popped both trays into the over for around 45 minutes. Meanwhile, I boiled some corn-on-the cob, and made some mushroom gravy with the last of the swiss brown mushroomss from Operation Foodbox and a gravox mix that is (disturbingly enough) entirely vegan.

Once everything was finished, we had a floor person floor picnic with some red wine.

Verdict? The vege fake meat roast was surprisingly awesome, at least when prepared in this fashion. The outside got pleasantly crispy, the inside was quite nicely flavoured. G compared it to chicken stuffing, R thought it more like dense, moist bread. I pointed out that chicken stuffing IS, in fact, dense moist bread. The apple/cranberry glazed vegetables were fantastic as always, and the gravy complemented everything perfectly. We were all stuffed and sated after the meal, but probably could have gone a second course if it was available.

The three omnivores I was feeding were all very vocal about their enjoyment of the vegan meal. The first item on this page is the roast we tried Vegan, easy to cook, tasty, and AUstralian made! R and I will definitely be eating this again.O

Fuck the Supermarket, part I

This week, R and I and a few of our friends have embarked on an experiment, which has been affectionately labelled Fuck the Supermarket.

Sydney is home to several fresh food markets, which grant access to fresh, healthy, seasonal and cheap fruit and vegetables to all Sydneysiders.

As long as you have a car.

And child-free leisure time on a Saturday.

And the financial/time capacity to pre-plan meals and buy in bulk.

And no disabilities or impairments that would prevent you from making your way around a fresh food market to purchase fruit and vegetables.

Out of a group of twelve people, we found two who fit the bill. So, on Saturday, they drove out to the markets and bought a massive cache of fresh fruit and veg, then divided it up into six boxes for the twelve of us. It came to $25 a head, and we all gained a nice, cheap box of veges.

So! The Fuck the Supermarket experiment (falsely named because I did, in fact, go to the supermarket for the extras) marks a return to cooking for me, as well as the introduction of meal plans. My dose of the crazy recently has left R and I surviving on take out and R's well-meaning but not-that-great cooking efforts. We're two meals in, and I'm hoping the meal plan will get us to next week without us having to turf any food.

Last night was the night I get home around 8:30PM, so I planned our first meal as something quick, easy, vegan and delicious: Herbed Mushrooms, baked potatos and salad. I chopped one large and six medium swiss brown mushrooms and threw them in the wok with some olive oil, a dash of white wine, a crushed garlic clove, some dried Italian herbs, some fresh basil and some fresh chives. While they simmered away I assembled a salad of dark lettuce, chopped tomatos and chopped capsicum, and (cheating!) threw two potatos in the microwave. I mixed a salad dressing of olive oil, balsamic vinegar, lemon juice and chopped chilli, and assembled everything on the plate.

Verdict? The tomatos were amazingly flavoursome, much better than the supermarket variety. The mushroom dish was delicious, and R remarked that the mushrooms were heavier than usual. The potatos were a touch overdone, but still good, despite my cheating use of advanced kitchen technology.

Tonight was a lacto-vegetarian night. I used up the rest of the big mushrooms, as we anticipated they'd be the first to show their age. I set them to grill, then chopped and sauted an onion, a red capsicum and a clove of garlic, before adding three tablespoons of red pesto, 200 g of ricotta cheese and a sprinkling of parmesan. I spooned this filling into the mushroom caps, placed a slice of tomato on top, and left them to grill some more while I washed and microwaved the half-bag of green beans.

Verdict? Well, apparently R likes BOTH ends removed from his green beans, while I'm of the impression you leave the curly end on. I found their flavour a bit less than great, which I put down to the fact that a few of the beans in the bag had turned and had to be discarded. Still, they were certainly edible, and would have been perfect if served with a sauce instead of plain. R thought the stuffed mushrooms "quite tasty", which I think is far too modest praise. Then again, I am quite well known for my propensity to declare anything containing fresh ricotta to be made of sheer awesome, so he is perhaps the one to be trusted here.

I feel better already, but I'm absolutely ascribing that to the fact that I much prefer cooking my own food to eating constant take out, and have been consistently berating myself over the last couple of months at meal time. The act of making a meal and feeling good about it is a much better mood booster than ordering the same noodles as last night and cursing my depression-related low spoon count. It's also nice to spend time in the kitchen with R... it may not sound like great fun, but that's where a lot of our early relationship stuff happened.

Getting home from work and having ingredients already purchased and meals already decided is a freaking LIFESAVER. Cooking was one spoon tonight and last night. Had I tried to cook two nights in a row last week, it would have meant getting home from work, deciding on a meal, going to the supermarket, shopping (huge stress source for me) THEN coming home and cooking. Just not possible at the moment. This way is infinitely preferable for depressed hexy brains.

Yay foodblogging!

Sorry Day.... at last

I've been trying to write about the upcoming Stolen Generation apology. I've gotten started on so many posts, and just been defeated by either the rage, the sadness, or the inability to sum up such a complex personal and political issue in few words whilst covering all the necessary bases. A particular comment thread on a news.com.au article about it left me in angry, miserable tears, a few conversations have had me feeling completely impotent to explain... I've just bottled it up and thought "I'll post about it later".

And now, it's Sorry Day. And I've just read the text of the apology.

The full apology:

"I give notice that, at the next sitting, I will move:

That

Today we honour the Indigenous peoples of this land, the oldest continuing cultures in human history.

We reflect on their past mistreatment.

We reflect in particular on the mistreatment of those who were Stolen Generations - this blemished chapter in our nation's history.

The time has now come for the nation to turn a new page in Australia's history by righting the wrongs of the past and so moving forward with confidence to the future.

We apologise for the laws and policies of successive Parliaments and governments that have inflicted profound grief, suffering and loss on these our fellow Australians.

We apologise especially for the removal of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander children from their families, their communities and their country.

For the pain, suffering and hurt of these Stolen Generations, their descendants and for their families left behind, we say sorry.

To the mothers and the fathers, the brothers and the sisters, for the breaking up of families and communities, we say sorry.

And for the indignity and degradation thus inflicted on a proud people and a proud culture, we say sorry.

We the Parliament of Australia respectfully request that this apology be received in the spirit in which it is offered as part of the healing of the nation.

For the future we take heart; resolving that this new page in the history of our great continent can now be written.

We today take this first step by acknowledging the past and laying claim to a future that embraces all Australians.

A future where this Parliament resolves that the injustices of the past must never, never happen again.

A future where we harness the determination of all Australians, Indigenous and non-Indigenous, to close the gap that lies between us in life expectancy, educational achievement and economic opportunity.

A future where we embrace the possibility of new solutions to enduring problems where old approaches have failed.

A future based on mutual respect, mutual resolve and mutual responsibility.

A future where all Australians, whatever their origins, are truly equal partners, with equal opportunities and with an equal stake in shaping the next chapter in the history of this great country, Australia."

From here.

It's not perfect. It's so far from perfect. But, jeebus, it's an official apology from the Australian Government to Indigenous Australia and the Stolen Generation, and it hits enough of the right notes that I have happy tears pouring down my face. It's happened within my lifetime... this vital step that means so much to so many of us, to our families, to the memories of our ancestors and our hopes for the future of our children.

I know there will be hate, and backlash, and outcry. We're already hearing it, and it's going to get louder. I can't speak for Indigenous Australia (hell, I can't even speak for my own relatives) but I say this as one mixed race Koori girl, one Wiradjuri woman, one descendent of the Stolen Generation.

Thank you, Kevin Rudd. Thank you, Federal Labor. Thank you everyone who pushed for this, who acknowledged the need, who fought for us and with us and on behalf of people disenfranchised and Stolen and denied their own voice for so long.

Thank you.

God DAMMIT

I don't usually jump in on trainwreck threads on other blogs, at least not to "stick up for" women I perceive as being entirely capable of handling themselves. Especially not when I see the angst involved as being an extension of old grudges between two women I read and respect and a conflict I want no part of.

SO... this Pandagon thread? I followed a link at Ginmar's to read it the first time. I raised an eyebrow, I had some thoughts, but I didn't feel myself prompted to jump in. I still don't, at least to anything I read then.

Since then, however, I re-read the thread after RenEv pointed out a particular comment, posted by Dana Seilhan. I'm not gonna tell you Ren's a great person with a heart of frickin' gold... outside of some words on a screen, a couple of vid posts and some pictures, I know nothing about her. I'm not going to "defend" JackGoff... I don't think I've ever spoken to him. I'm going to respond here, as I responded there, to the bit of her comment that made me clench my teeth and make a little growly noise.

And the fact still remains that it’s easier to rape you if you’ve already appealed to a guy’s libido and you have fewer clothes between you and him.

FUCK THAT SHIT RIGHT OFF.

There's no need for deep analysis of the statement: That is anti-feminist, anti-woman rape apology. No woman, no sex worker, no scantily-dressed tart in ANY circumstance makes it "easier" for a man to rape her. A rapist raping someone is the only cause of rape, and a rapist being opportunistic and seizing on the public stigma and slut-bashing that follows sex workers to work every day is the ONLY factor that makes those rapes "easier" for him to carry out and get away with.

Sex workers are (usually, and in this context) women. Sex workers are human. Women, humans and sex workers have the right to not be raped. They also have the right for any rape or attempted rape they deal with to be met with an appropriate response. Outrage, sympathy, support and solidarity are all appropriate responses. Victim blaming, slut bashing, whore blaming, whore bashing and self-righteous bullshit are not, regardless of whether that human takes her clothes off for money, and regardless of whether she sees that as a job or as exploitation.

For fuck's sake. Whoever your "friends" are and whichever blogs you read, this shit is feminism 101, and that attitude is not acceptable.

Pointless food blogging

Taking a page from Elaine's book blog, I've decided to do a food update.

I've been going through a hell of a hard time recently with my brain, medication and the like. It's meant I'm expending my spoons on such things as getting out of bed, working, and stopping Teh Crazy from leaping out of my head and decimating everything I hold dear. It hasn't left much energy for other things, which is why my house is currently a godawful mess and my body is screaming at me over nearly a month of crappy eating.

Today was a turning point: it was the first day in a very long time I left the house with a list of things to get done, and still had spare spoons at the end of the list. On impulse, I decided to cook a decent, healthy, vegan meal for R and myself... god knows he's missed my cooking as much as I have. I managed to navigate the supermarket (something I find personally draining), purchase the ingredients, come home (via saying goodbye to a very close friend I won't see for a year) and cook a meal... and then go to a meeting for the Queer Space I help run. It may sound like an ordinary day to you, but that collection of activities would have exhausted me even two weeks ago.

I was sensible enough to keep my meal simple:

SALAD

• Nice dark lettuce... remnants to feed the bun


• cherry tomatoes


• carrot, cut into slices


• snow peas


• dressing: olive oil, vinegar, lemon juice and diced chilli

TERIYAKI TOFU

• one block firm tofu, cut into six thick slices and drained


• Two onions, sliced


• one red capsicum, sliced


• teriyaki sauce: water, soy sauce, sesame oil, orange juice, powdered ginger, and a hearty dash of my favourite cheat, a vegetarian stir fry sauce I pick up from the Asian grocer next to the supermarket. Standard supermarket ready made teriyaki sauces are far too sweet for me.

I sauted the onion and capsicum in a pan with a little oil, then threw in the tofu slices. I assembled the salads as the tofu browned, then doused the pan with teriyaki sauce. I let it bubble and reduce for a while, then tossed the lot onto the plates and served. The entire prep time took me maybe fifteen minutes, and the healthy, home cooked food was the best thing I'd eaten in weeks. The look on R's face when he bit into the much-loved teriyaki tofu was a good reminder of how much we both miss my cooking... as well as being the healthiest, cheapest option, my home cooking is also seven different kinds of awesome when it comes to flavour.

This is the bit where I should include a photo of the meal, but I was too busy eating it to take one. So here's a picture of someone else's Teriyaki Tofu that looks nowhere near as delicious as mine was.



See that? Not a freakin patch on the tofu goodness of hex.

When hexy gets her geek on

This entry is a bit of departure from other things I've posted here, but I figured I'd cross-post from my LJ anyway.





OMG!! Three Robin suits!!


OK. I know that's not going to have a huge impact on most of you. As a bit of background, there's been a controversy amongst some Batman fans for quite some time over the failure of DC to include Stephanie Brown, aka Spoiler, aka the only female Robin to have existed in "regular" Batman continuity (also the only dead Robin to have been killed in a scene reminiscent of torture porn) amongst the memorials in the Batcave. The first Robin to die, Jason Todd, was memorialised. Stephanie not only didn't get a memorial, but was conspicuously unreferenced in later continuity. She's become a bit of a symbol to those who push for a less misogynistic comic world presented by the "big two", and is the mascot of Girl-Wonder.org. Their much-noted "campaign" for the Stephanie Brown memorial can be found here.

The image above, therefore, is pretty significant. It IS clearly a dream sequence, so we (and by "we" I mean myself, my fellow female comic geeks, and all two of you who are bothering to keep reading this) can presume there is at this point no "real" memorial. However, it's a dream sequence penned by Grant Fucking Morrison, so I don't think it's going to be tossed aside.

I'll point out now, however, that I don't consider this to be a Great Feminist Victory in the world of comics. My disappointment with the lack of a memorial for Stephanie Brown has always been pretty far down the list of things that shit me as a female and feminist comic fan. As pathetically fan-girlish as it sounds, my major issue was that the way she was treated was much truer to the minds of sexist comic book writers than it was to the character of Batman. I mean, come on, the guy made a fucking superpower out of brooding vengeance! You really think he's going to be unfazed by the horrible death of the first female to be accepted as his closest compatriot and sidekick at the hands of an enemy? Fuck no. He's gonna go all Holy Mourning Ninja, Batman!

This scene, therefore, speaks all the more to me as it takes place in Batman's head. For whatever reason there was no memorial, it makes it clear that to him she was a Robin, her death mattered, and she is remembered. That's fantastic both on a characterisation level, and as a nod to those female fans who read this as yet another in a long line of reminders that we, as women, are incredibly secondary in the comic book universe. Misogyny in comics isn't gone, but one example that has been noteworthy by virtue of its invisibility has at least been held up and addressed.

Read this and this if I haven't bored you to tears already.

---

The Killing Joke is considered by many to be the single greatest and most influential Batman title to deal with the character of The Joker and his origins. Those "many" are awesome, because I agree with them. It's a brilliant book, it set in ink the Joker I and many like me are fanatically and fetishistically (I can make up words if I want) devoted to. According to rumour, it has also played a part in the creation of The Dark Knight: Chris Nolan reportedly gave that comic alone to Heath Ledger as reference material for his portrayal of our beloved Mistah J.

The Killing Joke, coincidentally enough, turns twenty this year. This article discusses its creation and influence better than I could ever hope to.

---

And something that's just pretty...




Ohhhh... the pretty.

That gorgeous image is by Josh Middleton, who has drawn the last batch of JLA covers, and created the most perfect Supergirl cover... I've never bought a Supergirl title in my life, but if they gave Middleton the entire book to draw, they'd get my money.

The above image is for a French title, Soleil. It's one of the many French comics that has me wanting to purchase them even with the language barrier. They've taken comic book art and stories in a direction that leaves the US and, yes, even the UK for dead.

Don't worry. Even I think learning a language for the sole purpose of reading comics is going slightly too far.