Howdley ho,

As we’ve established before, I don’t do sickness well.

The Purple House has been struck down by the Dreaded Tummy Bug.

Honestly, call me insane, but I’d be more than happy to trade childbirth for the last 24 hours. Give me labor over gastro any day. Three or four time over. Seriously.

In my usual craptastic fashion, I’ve just signed up for May’s NaBloPoMo. And I figured wussing out on the second day due to just a little vomiting was not in good form.

So here I am. Kind of. In my fevered, delusional state. Anyone who has me on FaceBook will know I was actually half through watching Paranormal Activity when I was stricken with this bug. Which is leading me to think that The Man’s 15-year-old niece may be right and that movie really is evil.

Or maybe not.

Logging off now, before I say something really stupid. Too late, you say? Maybe.

If anyone needs me, I’ll be in the fetal position. Hugging the toilet bowl.

Mushi mushi,

The Muse Wars is back!

Originally the brilliant idea of Melissa at The Things I’d Tell You, christened the Muse Wars by the MadMother when she set Challenge Two. Challenge Three by was set by the Menopausal Mumma, Challenge Four by yours truly. Challenge Five was set by the muchly awesome Gemma at Sometimes You Just Need To Vent.

And this one, Challenge Six, was again set by Kakka at Menopausal Mumma. Could you tell I couldn’t be arsed doing all the links again and just copied and posted that whole last paragraph off my Challenge Five post? Thought so.

Anyway, your mission, should you chose to accept it- 500 words (ish) on this picture. First one in picks the next challenge. Anyone can play- just pop a comment up on Kakka’s post when you’re done.

And away we go…

La Lotteria

A whole new world.

It was a phrase you heard all the time. “A whole new world of this, a whole new world of that”. Very few people, he thought, understood the true meaning.

At least, until now.

The air here was warm. As was the water. Always bath temperature, smelling of sulfur. It was midday and this planet’s sun was at it’s brightest. Yet it looked like twilight.

Could they really live here? All of them? For how long?

There were now 15 ooo inhabitants on this previously un-colonized planet of Zantaria. All of them were winners, so to speak. Winners of La Lotteria.

Earth was dead. That was an irrefutable fact, had been for the last 200 years. There was nothing left there, no food, little water. Earth’s sun got hotter and hotter.

People were dieing. Slowly at first, then famine ran through countries like wildfire, eating up entire cities.

That was when they announced La Lotteria.

There was a planet, they said. One they had been sending missions to, manned but top secret, for years now. The atmosphere was air, breathable. There was water, drinkable water, more water than land. The geography of Zantaria consisted of millions of tiny islands, connected by water just deep enough to run a boat on.

But there was a catch. The trip there took years. The earth would simply not survive that long. And there was only enough space vessels for 15 000 people.

And so, La Lotteria, the random selection, began.

It took a week. Numbers drawn every day, families split apart, people left in desperation when their number was missed by one or two digits. A winning number for an adult allowed them to take one child, and one child only, with them.

It was at that point Ben began to thank the gods that he and his wife had stopped at just one.

Chaos. Anarchy. The world, falling apart. Ben’s number is drawn. His wife’s is not.

Ben, and his young son, stand ankle deep in the warm water of Zantaria. They can hear people in the distance, proof they are not alone, as much as it feels like it.

Other winners of La Lotteria. More of the lucky ones.

On the 19th of December, my husband Tony and I took our son Chop to the Wiggles concert. It’s such a beautiful memory for me. I wrote this post not long after. Like many more, it’s been sitting in my drafts folder ever since.


So… a light one. Because, ludicrously, somehow, I still have my twisted sense of humor.


Thia one’s in honour of The Man. My man. My Tony. A family man. A great husband, a brilliant father, my best mate. And just an all round top bloke.

Love you babe.

Hot potato!

Because ‘The Wiggles’ is one of the most Google-searched terms on this blog (Yes, really. I know.) I’ve blogged about the Wiggles in general– and the inherent evilness of Dorothy the Dinosaur in particular- I thought I’d fill you all in on the stuff I learnt when the Chop, the Man and I attended the humongous Wiggles In The Round Greatest Hits concert recently. (And, yes, we left the Bump at home. Slack much, or what?).

I’ll begin by saying- this concert was epic. Too cool for pre-school. The biggest thing since juice boxes. This was like the return of AC/DC for the ABC’ers. Or something. (Boom tish, Lori.)

Whatever. A huge thanks to Ungle Grog and Auntie Gemmy for purchasing the tickets for the Chop’s third birthday. A small boo to Uncle Grog for busting his shoulder joint and having to send the Man in his place, but that’s not the point of this story.

Stop talking, Lori. On with the show.

*Kiddy concerts are really just merchandising traps for parents. $20 for a fiber optic light spinner thingie. $20. I kid you not. It was the first show I’ve ever been to where the program was cheaper than the tatty merchandise. (I just went looking for al ink there and realised I haven’t told you jellybeans about my super-nerdy collection of show programs. Remind me to blog about that, one day soonish).

*And food traps. One carton of hot chips (Man forget the sauce, bless his smelly cotton socks), two bottles of Coke and one apple juice- $20. Dear Google God, the humanity.

*That freaking Dinosaur is everywhere. And I do mean everywhere. I probably should have expected that, but still… she even came home with us.

Creepy.

*On a more positive note, Dorothy the Dinosaur also fell on her head. Lots of acrobatic in this show, folks, including trapeze, Russian silks and floor work. Apparently, a large green and yellow spotted tail does make one very nimble in the forward rolls. And Dorothy Stab-Me-Now Dinosaur landed on her head. I laughed. The Man frowned at me. The Chop didn’t even notice. The performers on stage made a huge slapstick joke of it. Which was awesome. And totally expected. Because….

*These guys are consummate showmen. The Wiggles rock hard. They managed to make this a show little kids could enjoy, and not get bored with, in the hugeness of the Acer Arena. They ad-wiggled and laughed. They personally went down into the audience to collect freaking Dorothy’s roses and bones for Wags, and gave out hugs and high fives while they were there. And Anthony Wiggle even stopped the show at one point to give one special needs kid a hug and get him a round of applause from the audience. Altogether now- awwwwwwww. Be still, my toot toot chugga chugga big red heart.

*Anthony is definitely the hottest Wiggle. If there were a hot Wiggle. Which, of course, there isn’t. *Ahem* *Cough* *Wigglelove*

*But Sam is pretty darn cool. I take it all back, everything I said about Sam being a terrible impostor who just doesn’t cut the fruit salad the way Greg did. The Man even went so far as to say that Greg “is dead to him now”. Which is slightly melodramatic, but I do understand his point.


*Whatever. To the Chop, Sam is Greg is Sam anyway, but they’re both called Greg. The power of the yellow skivvie.

*Lastly, Acer Arena is a very trusting kinda place. Of  parents and grand parents and what not, at least. We didn’t have our tickets checked once. Not once. But I’m not sure they instill the same trust in their pint-sized pre-school concert goers, considering the signage they had displayed for them.

No moshing, no stage diving. Indeed. A wise idea. The crowd absolutely went off- like a frog in a footie sock- when the Big Red Car came out.

* There was much discussion on Twitter– well, not really, it was more like a wee bit of discussion, if I’m honest, as to whether the correct word is “Learnt” or “Learned”. Spellcheck says “Learned”. Spellcheck is usually wrong. I’d much appreciate your input on this extremely important ishoooooo in the comments section. Thankyouverymuch.

Almost a year ago, I transferred my entire CD collection to iTunes… which proceeded to wipe every single song when I upgraded to iOS5.

I spent two weeks quite literally grieving for eighteen years worth of music– although my CD purchasing has dwindled over the last few years and came to a complete stand still once I initiated myself as an iPerson; the last CD I bought was Pink’s FunHouse, which wasn’t really released that long ago.

I found, while I wasn’t even looking for it, the box I accidentally hadn’t thrown out; the one containing my entire CD collection– some in cases with booklets pristine, others rolling listlessly or hanging just connected to their brittle plastic cover.

I have never been so glad to see a pile of scratched, skipping CD’s before in my entire life; and probably never will be again.

According to Mr Phil Ruthven, there is a time capsule buried on the grounds of a certain Australian university that, if everything goes to plan, will be retrieved in the year 2054. One of the objects our unborn relatives will find is a simple letter opener.

Imagine the confusion it will cause…

Unless, of course, objects such as that are archived somewhere right here, online, in the endless realms of the Internet.

The IBM Snapshot of Australia’s Digital Future was a mind blowing event, in the literal sense of the word– I felt my sense of normality being stretched like spun sugar, encompassing the positive reality of our future that the panelists (sadly, all men) projected. I also had a head spinning moment of “Who let the mummy blogger in here?!”, but that’s, you know, my issues.

I won’t bore you with the GDP’s and figures that go over my head (except to say that Australia’s mining boom will be over by 2020), but it seems that here online we’re safe– the industries that will die off in the next 50 years, aptly christened as ’dead men walking’ on Twitter,  include traditional media such as print newspaper, books and magazines; radio broadcasting, computer software production and various entertainment sectors such as cinemas and movie rentals.

All theses industries are deemed as nonviable against the ‘infotronic’ age, and, unless they find a way to adapt and mold with new technology, they will be rendered useless.

Speaking of new technology, check out this quote directly from the report, which can be read online here.


“Device interfaces will merge with the human body: eventually, we will receive information on contact lenses, our skin will become a touch pad and we will use brain interface machines to command devices via neutral control. While in their infancy, breakthrough in these areas have already been achieved, laying the beginning for human beings to merge with the digitalised world.”

And also…

“..smarter homes become primary care-centres and enable early detection and prevention of illness.”

Terrifying. I know. But it seems that’s just proof that I’m getting old.

One theory presented by Ruthven but softly disagreed with by IBM Australia’s managing director Andrew Stevens, was the idea that the traditional division amongst the Australian people– the country versus city tribes– will dissolve as people are allowed to become more flexible with the introduction of advanced technology and giga–speed broadband (which Singapore and Finland already have, by the way… Hello national broadband network. I need you in TinyTrainTown). He told the assembled media that the term ‘employee’ and the virtual psychical imprisonment that comes with it would be not only obsolete, but a foreign concept by 2050.

A discussion panel including both Ruthven and Stephens as well as Mark Pesce and social analyst Neer Korn weaved a picture of the future that sees us as our own virtual work stations– most people working from home will ease the divide between rural and city areas in Australia. While Pesce detailed the trend of smart phones bringing services to people and creating a virtual marketplace where none existed before, thus flipping the economy and our traditional ideas of service; Korn spoke of a basic drive that will become more evident as our technology grows– needing to switch off from constant cyber communication and enjoy ‘real’ experiences and face to face human contact. Social meeting places were mentioned, tech free zones where people, isolated from working at home all day, could gather in the afternoons and chat, face to face.

The utopian hippy within me sings with that one– a way to enhance tribal communities, once we figure how out how make all this new stuff seem a bit less obtrusive.

The concept of community and the way it will adapt was mentioned a few times, especially in reference to the difference between ‘older’ and ‘younger’ generations. It was pointed out that young people today are embracing technology, where as the older we grow the more afraid and tech-illerate we seem to become. While the younger generation are happy to embrace online socializing, those in or above the Gen X sub-class tend to view increasing screen interaction as the very nemesis of social connectivity. It was predicted as around this split that the biggest divide that will occur– younger generations will embrace new technology, where as we will hang back and be afraid. The awesome concept of a digital Zimmer frame, complete with touch pad and wifi, was mentioned– a metaphor for the abstract concept of the ‘help’ stations that will be needed at various points in order for the old geeks (that’d be us, I think) to easily access all this new, mind blowing uber–cool Back To The Future type gear.

The single most disturbing concept to come out of this forum was, as I mentioned, the idea of your skin becoming a touch pad and your information stored in a contact lense. The general reaction to this when I posted it on Twitter and Instagram was intense distrust– which kind of confirms the ’ancient and terrified’ theory. I get it– I’m terrified, too. But as a whole, the picture presented at the Digital Snapshot was an entirely positive one. It will take work, we were assured, but I don’t th
ink that will be a problem– if nothing, Australians know how to work our guts out. And with that hard work will come a shift in the way we live, a swing backwards, making this life that we’ve made so difficult for ourselves a bit easier.

The report classified the industry groups in Australia into categories of those that won’t survive this new digital age, as mentioned above, those that will be slightly effected, and those that will undergo a complete overhaul, a total shift in the way their business is done– healthcare, social assistance, retail, education and mining, to name a few. (There was a lot of chatter about mining at this presentation. For those non–Aussie readers, there is always a lot of chatter about mining when talking business in Australia– though, to be honest, it’s virtually invisible to most of us, except that we all know someone, generally a twenty–something male, who has gone to work for months at a time in the open cut’s in WA, soaking up huge wages because there simply is nowhere to spend it, being flown home for one weekend a month.)

A dividing point amongst mummy bloggers has always been along the lines of “wont somebody think of the children?!”– wondering how much we write will be cached, accessible forever on the interwebs. I’ve always been more worried about the opposite– the Internet disappearing over night and eating everything I have here. It’s online, not real life… but this web page is a part of me.

With split servers and clouds and the Google God knows what else multiplying like Gremlins, that worry is beginning to fade; and I guess I get what everyone stresses about– the digital imprint I leave behind, akin to a house packed with stuff; little bits of information that piece together my life.

My mum is a science fiction fan and I remember reading a short story by one of her favorite authors, Anne McCaffrey, when I was a teenager. It involved a class at a university, given the task of checking microchips for important information before deleting their contents.

The microchips belonged to people deceased– this was set in an imaginary future where every house, each individual, had their own microchip embedded within the walls with which to store whatever data they liked. (Even the imagination of a science fiction author can’t quite grasp it, I’ve noticed, even though they get so close– microchips, because retina scans and contact lenses are just too far fetched; Stephen King’s futuristic Running Man, one of the Bachmann books, sees the main character years into the future… carrying a hefty, heavy video camera and large tapes to go with it, then sending them via snail mail to his suppressors).

The protagonist of the story- female, as most of McCaffrey’s heroes where- walks in on her classmates sharing immature enlightenment at the very mundane, seemingly ridiculous content on the microchips of ordinary people.

I don’t remember many of the details from there in. What I do remember is our heroine making her speech, her point, that the very basis of this technology was the intrinsic human elements it carried; and proved that by recounting an anecdote of a woman who recorded her husband snoring just to prove to him that he did… then played the recording back to herself on a loop every night for years after he died, because she couldn’t sleep without it.

Digital proof of life.

Reading that story in the mid nineties, it seemed as it was– fantasy, a story, fiction, flight of fancy.

Now, in the year 2012, it might as well be reality– it’s not only the concept of a digital society we’re looking down in to, but the actual human society it encompasses.

Look at that synopsis of that short story again. And then tell me what you’ve got stored on your iCloud…?

I’ve made the executive decision to try this whole transferring CD’s to useable music thing again, backing them all up on my external hard drive. At least it has space for a brain, should it want one.

And I’m undecided as to whether to keep the CD’s themselves. I think I will, just for the retro value… to see what funky things my grand kids can up–cycle them into.

Or maybe just for that letter opener effect– to leave them wondering what the f*ck these shiny, circular bits of plastic were used for, anyway.