TEOTWAWKI

Gabriel's having his afternoon nap, so I thought I'd do some searching on Doomsday psychology. It turns out there's an awful lot of stuff on various Doomsday scenarios, but not much (apart from, y'know books) on why end-of-the-worlders are so damned set on ending life-as-we-know-it.

So, in a brief and irreverent run-down, the nominees for Best Planet Destruction Event are:

(1) The Mayans. Their long-count calender (not their short one, or teensy one, or super-dooper long one) runs out tomorrow. Despite this, they didn't prophesy the end of the world. I guess that's because calenders don't signify anything other than ending of a period of time.

(2) Planet X/Nibiru. I love this one. HUGE planet hurtling towards us (by tomorrow) is apparently also an invisible planet...has been for ages too. Right now, we should be seeing something in the sky the size of the moon..at least. A while ago, a random astronomer or two probably should have seen something in their super-dooper observatory set-ups.

(3) Magnetic Pole shift (I sooo blame the 2012 movie for that one..I mean who wouldn't believe Dennis Quaid??)...for that matter, who wouldn't want to snuggle up with Jake Gyllenhaal in a library in front of a fire?

(4) Mega Sun Flares. Crispy us. Pesky scientists are assuring us that this is about as likely as me winning a Nobel prize, but what would they know? It's a conspiracy!

(5) The black hole in the middle of the universe is going to suck us all in...well, something has sucked a lot of people in, but it ain't a black hole (unless we're talking the intellectual variety...)

(6) The Rapture! Lots of Christians floating up into the sky (I assume Jesus has some kind of 'off-switch' on atmospheric conditions? I mean 8000m is currently touted the "death zone" on Everest, and I'm assuming Heaven is a bit higher than that?)...

I'm sure there are others, but I'm a bit over reading the bunkum and pifflery to be honest. What really interests me is why people really really want the world to end.
At first I assumed that said 'people' mustn't be very bright. It turns out though that various important surveys have been done and that Doomsdayers are often 'above average intelligence'. As measured by what?

So here's my theory (such as it is).
I think people are bloody overwhelmed.
It's a very big and very scary world out there. In 2012 we know far more about the various goings-on globally than we can reasonably manage to process.
I get overwhelmed. Like my recent ancestors, I have to live, provide for my family, pay taxes, work, laugh, dream, play, foster my mind/ambitions, act for my community and try to help others less fortunate. Unlike my recent ancestors, I am in constant contact with the whole world, it's massacres, it's wars, it's tsunami's and hurricanes, it's starving millions, it's disabled and elderly, it's struggling animal populations, it's human rights violations, it's religious manias, it's climate and environmental destruction.
It is definitely overwhelming. Where to help? What are my responsibilities? What can I reasonably expect to achieve here? I can 'Think Globally, Act Locally', but to be honest, between caring for a 6 month old and getting the dishes done, I don't do a whole lot of 'acting locally either.
On this point alone, if the WAWKI ends, I have far less to worry about.
In fact, I get to return to the basics really. Surviving.
Of course, doing that probably won't be quite as romantic and heroic as some might like to think. No water or electricity supply would put quite a dint in things...even if you were snuggling Jake Gyllenhaal in a library.

I think people really really fear death. Atheists and Theists alike. Perhaps there's something quite comforting in the idea of not 'getting old' ?. Perhaps it's even more comforting to imagine everyone going out together in one fell swoop? Perhaps only the belief that you can predict death (of yourself and the planet) makes you feel a bit better about it?. I mean, there's a Doomsday for everyone, but the trick is that you can't predict it.
I get that 'the Rapture' is quite comforting for Christians, -you actually get to avoid the 'death' bit entirely and just go straight to heaven where everything is just-lovely-thankyou, but it does seem a bit smug doesn't it? "Ooh, sorry everyone else! We did tell you...thanks for that delicious choccie cake last thursday, but I'm off to heaven. Enjoy your catastrophic destruction".

In fact, I think pretty much all Doomsday philosophies have quite a bit in common with religious belief (even if they're 'secular' in nature).

So, in my-very-own-doomsday scenario here's what happens;
The Magnetic poles shift and that effects the Atlantic Current thingy (toldya I like that movie). This means that I now live in a cold place, which is a jolly good thing.
The Government collapses and I no longer have to worry about tax/superannuation, buying a house, paying bills etc. This has no consequence other than freeing me from annoying obligations.
All my family members (well, OK some of my family members) survive, as well as the most excellent friends and we all manage to get together somehow.
No no, I have it figured. I've got a really good mix of scientists, medicos, artists, gardeners, tradies etc, so I get to have a cool micro-community full of people I like.
We grow vegetables, write new books and plays, save important bits of previous human culture, sing songs by firelight and go to bed early every night. Someone also figures out how to make great wine, and we storm some great property with heaps of arable land, lots of grape vines, an underground aquifer and a picturesque location. Maybe a lake nearby for fishing.
Eventually we may accept other tribes (for the sake of genetic diversity you understand), but it will all be peaceful and lovely and stuff.
Oh, and there'll be horses and goats and chickens and a huge stock of soy-bean seeds so I don't have to revert to caveman-style eating of dead creatures.
Yay apocolypse!

It's a very different world Mr Madison...

I was just one of many mothers around the world on Saturday 15th December 2012 that happened to switch on the news. I was one of thousands, if not millions, that listened with increasing horror and disbelief as reporters told us of 20 children and 6 adults shot by a suicidal gunman in Newtown, Connecticut.

I'm certain I wasn't alone in holding my little boy and telling him how much I loved him almost obsessively through the days that followed.

I am absolutely not alone in being one of many many people that have, and continue to search for a way to deal with it. It may be a need for 'answers', a need to feel 'safe', a need to be someone who helps in some small way, or just a Mother's need to 'arm' myself against this eventuality ever EVER applying to my family.

Some part of me knew that this would be an impossible task. I didn't even really know 'why' I was doing all this obsessive research, -and it's fair to assume that one is unlikely to find 'the answer' when one can't even formulate 'the question'.

The closest I could get was 'why?'.

Why what Cath? 

Why did that particular man choose to vent his frustrations on tiny children and teachers?

Why does the second amendment still exist?

Why do the NRA and [Republican] Americans hold to their 'right to bear arms' as obsessively as they hold to the Bible?

Why do people still insist that arming everyone (including teachers) is a BETTER option than doing away with guns entirely?

Why are a huge amount of people still petitioning God to come and save America instead of doing something?

I assure, this is only a very very small selection of the questions that have been on my mind. 

I pored over the second amendment (and its various commentaries) forever. . . And knew that once again, the same twisted voices would say, Oh, this had nothing to do with gun laws or the misuse of the Second Amendment or anything except some singular madman, of whom America for some reason seems to have a particularly dense sample.

I considered the definition of 'militia' both now and in the late 1700's. I pondered the psychology of a nation founded against the invading forces of British and French colonialists in conjunction with violent and bloody aboriginal conflict. 

I considered the social ramifications of a country still at war with various world nations, at the glorification of the 'Military', the reverence with which Americans and Australians treat their fallen Soldiers, the poetry of war, the clarity and 'peace' that many soldiers find through killing.... I wondered again about the prevalence of violence on our movie and game-screens and how much and what is filtering through the minds of our young ones.

I fielded voices as diverse as Morgan Freeman and Julie Bishop. I realised that I did in fact have some respect for John Howard and the Australian Governments swift and furious action following Port Arthur. 

And yet, each night as I fed, bathed and sang my son to sleep, all I could think about were the mothers and fathers of the world that have lost children. I can see and feel the unstoppable keening wail of a mother holding an empty blanket that still retains the scent of her dead child...and the blank empty silence that follows as she tries to remember to eat and live on. The pure hopelessness of a couple who aren't and never could have been equipped to deal with such a thing, and the way they will claw and rend at each other without wanting to. The useless but well-meant condolences that make you want to scream. The fury. The rage. 

How I longed for a proper brain. A book-writing, world-changing brain that could neatly compartmentalize and analyse violence and mental illness. I would even have settled for a brain that was capable of writing a thorough and incisive article. An article that helped.

As it turns out, I am not that person. 

I am simply one of millions on this planet that is continuously confused and horrified. I don't have answers. I have plenty of questions, but I suspect none of them are what I really wanted to ask.

As a singer/musician I, again, have to fall back on music to help me.

"My Precious One"

My precious one, my tiny one, lay down your pretty head.
My dearest one my sleepy one, its time to go to bed

My precious one, my darling one; don't let your lashes weep.
My cherished one, my weary one; it's time to go to sleep.

Just bow your head and give your cares to me.
Just close your eyes and fall into the sweetest dream, cause in my loving arms.
You're safe as you will ever be so hush my dear and sleep.

And in your dreams you'll ride on angels' wings.
Dance with the stars and touch the face of god
And if you should awake...

I'll kiss your little cheek
And underneath the smiling moon
I'll send you back to sleep.

Today's harvest = Tonight's Dinner

When you're on a [cough] 'budget' (read: no money to speak of), the humble legume becomes your very best friend, like, in the universe.
They're cheaper than chips, they're full of marvellous (but boring) vitamins and minerals, they're nutty and tasty, and thank jeebus, everyone in my family likes them.
So, today I whacked together a pot of my 'Posh Beans'.
See, what I actually served for dinner was beans-on-toast, but Posh beans on toasted sourdough with parmesan, spring onions, fresh peas and bitter greens sounds more appetising :-)

First, it was a quick trip to the garden to source the greens (Cos and Mizuna), peas, and spring onions..

Gabriel watched on in delight, squealing and wriggling on Daddy's lap while mummy picked green things.
Next step, washing. This is a 2 step process in my house as after you've washed all the leaves, you have to save and transport the dozen or so ladybugs floating in the sink water:-)

Washed and ready to go. It's probably just me being super romantic, but greens from my garden are much greener than other greens...:)
Then it was a simple toasting of sourdough slices under the griller, pile with chopped mixed greens, slap on a couple of ladlefulls of Posh beans, and top with parmesan, spring onions and fresh peas.

Posh Beans

3 tins cannelini beans, rinsed
1 brown onion, finely diced
2 celery stalks, finely diced
1 red capsicum, finely diced
1 small Aldi tin tomato paste
1 jar passata
1 tbsp massel chicken stock
1 passata jar of water

You can add as much or as little of the following as takes your fancy;
Cajun Spice
Chilli Flakes
Salt
Garlic granules
BBQ sauce
Worcestershire sauce
Savoury yeast flakes
basil
thyme
sage

If you like it a bit 'creamy' add 2 mashed potatoes to the sauce...I do.

In other news, my delightful little munchkin has just mastered the art of sitting up by himself. This means that we've put him down 3 times now for bed. Every time we check on him, he's sitting up in the middle of his cot grinning from ear to ear at how damned clever he is :)
Oh, and all my careful, considered baby-food smushing and mouli-ing...not as important as I thought.
The little fells sits next to Daddy while he eats, and was opening and closing his wee gob like a birdy with great intent this evening.
Focus on food, make birdy mouth, look pleadingly at Daddy.
Rock a bit.
repeat.
I finally relented and allowed Brett to feed him a teensy bit of the Posh beans...
I truly expected him to screw up his face and wail as the chilli burned his little tongue. But nope. It was 'thankyou-very-much-and-where's-the-next-helping?'.
I guess I may have ignored the 'one food at a time' and '4 days between new foods' thing just a bit....{BAD mumma, BAD BAD BAD!}.

The Accidental Lip-Smacker

Ohhhh, it's been a rough couple of days...well week really. On Friday last Brett came home from school and announced he 'wasn't very hungry'....[cue: alarm bells]...On Saturday he had developed the mother of all lergies. Sunday. Monday. Tuesday the curse-of-the-red-moon hits me hard...and Gabriel starts sniffling and sneezing. We take him to get his 6 month shots anyway. Wednesday,-Gabriel rubs at his gums frantically, sniffles, sneezes, coughs, frets, will not settle, will not sleep and has the attention span of a forgetful gnat (I chew Nurofen and curse being a woman for the gazillionth time).
 I also have a house-inspection, so between screaming fits (baby), cramping fits (me) and schiz-fits (cat) I attempt to clean the house from top to bottom. Yes yes, I 'know' Real Estate agents don't really care about the relative squalor of your life (as long as there's no damage to the property), but I get weird about these things. By the time Frau Inspektor arrives the house is luverly and smells welcoming, fresh flowers are in every room and I am in the garden casually picking peas in a basket.
'Look at my perfect life! Tra-le-la, -just picking some home-grown organic produce for my gastronomic spectacular this evening, just go on through and let me know if you need me!'
Cold sweat of panic well-hidden by charming floppy straw hat.
I should mention that screaming baby had been relocated to Mum and Dad's for an hour at this point (where he cooed, giggled and then promptly fell asleep like an angel...GRRRAAAAGGGHHHHH).
I am also developing quite a lovely sore throat and the most delightfully tap-drippy nose. Aching all over and can't get warm...so naturally, I decide that I've lied quite enough for one day thankyou-very-much and actually embark on a gastronomic spectacular.

1. Shell all the peas. This was only accomplished because my Dad came over and sat Gabe on his knee for some Grandpa singing-time.

 2. Read recipe again. Realise that although you have 7 different varieties of salt on your shelf, you're out of sea-salt. Beg Grandpa to stay 10 more minutes while you run down to the shops.

 3. Smashy smashy bang bang on the mint and salt, and turn into a paste with a splooshy sploosh of Olive Oil

 4. Husband comes home with emergency ingredients but has bought snow-peas instead of sugar-snaps. Resist temptation to cry because now it won't be exactly like Donna Hay's version. Co-opt husband into adding stock and stirring risotto while I pop back out to the garden for tender pea tendrils...tender pea tendrils fer chrissake!

Donna Hay's Pea and Mint Risotto with Creme Fraiche

Gabriel FINALLY goes to sleep...sort of, and we settle down to watch 'Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter' with our dinner. Am so congested I can't taste anything but exhaustion. Snap at bewildered husband/get upset/play dumb Fspazbook games/Go to bed.

Today. Wake up completely at 5am. Husband and son still sleeping.

Exhaustion/heinous cramps/family crisis/...leftover creme fraiche...

I hate leftover ingredients like creme fraiche. It's not exactly a common ingredient in my usual culinary parlance. It would annoy me no end to have it just go off in the fridge.

Dear friend Karen has sent me a link to a picture of a chickpea and zucchini burger that looked amazing....

Grab baby and sit him in Bumbo on the kitchen floor. Hand him old pot and wooden spoon.

So I buzzed around the kitchen for an hour making patties, chopping onions, reducing relish and explaining every step to my delighted audience of one. In point of fact, his delight was so damned infectious that I started singing to him. Chop the onions..'Un bel di vedremo!...', mash the chickpeas...'Le Fille de Cadiz'...(ok, I stopped cooking for a bit and used one of his muslin squares to do a frightful matador thing)...still feeling like a truck had hit me and then the driver had gotten out and pulled out my uterus with a coat-hanger but quite a bit jollier mentally:-)

7pm. I serve chickpea and zucchini patties on sourdough with chargrilled kumera, onion and capsicum relish, bitter greens and creme fraiche. On the side, potato roasties with a great combination of chicken seasoning, cajun spice, garlic powder and salt.

Husband says 'dlshus!!', which is what 'delicious' sounds like if you say it mid-mouthful.

For an off-the-cuff 'what-am-I-going-to-do-with-leftover-creme-fraiche-burger' it was jolly good...JOLLY good :-)

The pattie recipe can be found at Chickpea and Zucchini Patties

Dodgy But Yummy Relish
1 large brown onion (half-rings)
1 red capsicum (strips)
allspice
chilli flakes
sweet chilli sauce
BBQ sauce
vegeta seasoning
dash balsamic vinegar

Fry veges in oil til soft. Add other stuff, simmer for a bit until gluggy-ish and the sauce is doing the nice coaty thing instead of the swimming pool thing.
9.05pm. I have glass of wine.