Restaurant Review: Garcia's Mexican

Last night I went to Garcia's Mexican with LM and Moba. It's a decent place, nice atmosphere. Staff are friendly, food is tasty and not over priced.

Food: the food is, surprise surprise, Mexican. Prices for mains are between $19 and $27. The portion sizes are quite large.
Flavour? I was feeling sick, so I just got a salad and rice. The salad was covered with cheese and wholegrain mustard, and some sort of dressing, which I really didn't enjoy. The flavour was too strong for me.
LM got a chimichunga. Well, it was advertised as a chimichunga, but really it was just a very big burrito. He said it was tasty though, despite not being authentic. Moba enjoyed her taco too.

Kids' Menu: There is a children's menu, but that doesn't mean it's kid friendly. I don't think they would object to kids, but there's not any entertainment for them so they might be bored (obviously you know your own kids though, so you know what keeps them occupied). The kids menu is a little plain. Chips and chicken nuggets, OR chicken or beef enchilada, OR chicken or beef taco, AND a dessert (ice-cream or jelly). Not exactly expansive. But the "Entrees" are just small dishes, so that's another option.

Vegetarian Options: BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! Yeah, there's a "vegetarian" menu with exactly two dishes on it. And one of them can be stuffed with chili con cañe, so... No. If you're eating with vegan or vegetarian friends, or are vegetarian or vegan yourself, not the place to go.

Accessibility: No steps! Big plus. However, the tables are very close together, not much room to manoeuvre a scooter or wheelchair. From the door, there is about a one-inch drop to the floor. The curb cuts outside are a fair distance from the door as well, but there is a very wide bay near the curb cut. The chairs are hard backed and have no arms.
The menu has large font with good contrast, black on white. The lights are not overly bright, but there is globe above the tables so you can read the menu. The place is fairly loud, but not overly echoey (yay for sound dispersing fabrics!).
The counter for reservations and to pay was very high though. It was high for me, a standing person, I can't imagine trying to see over it if i was in a chair, or even shorter than I am.

Service: The staff were friendly and did what they could to make sure we were happy. But it was fairly hard to get their attention when we needed something, like more water or the dessert menu.

Dessert: YUMMY! I got sorbet and LM got mud cake and it was noms.

I'm not going to give a rating - I don't do that. I enjoyed it, but your needs might be different. But if there's anything else you want to know about the place, just ask.

Almost Wordless Wednesday: Spider Pie

A round grey pie dish on a grey bench. Inside the dish is a home made, unbaked apple pie. The dough on the top has been arranged as a spider web. A piece of dough covered in cinnamon is shaped like a big spider, a much smaller piece, also covered in cinnamon, is shaped like a fly.

Women in Comics: Getting It Right - Batwoman: Elegy

I have spoken before about how comic-art is often sexified, as in "The Pose".
I have spoken before about the horrible treatment of women in the X-Men films.

But today I want to do something different. Today I want to talk about women in comics done powerful, done interesting, and most importantly done well!

I was once again sucked into DC world when Quality Keith recommended Batwoman: Elegy¹ to me. After reading through the first few pages I couldn't resist and bought the hardcover.

Let me start with the art.

The artist for this comic is J H Williams III, the same artist for the Promethea series. Already he gets a plus in my books.
Aside from some really beautiful backgrounds and surrealist covers, one of the things I immediately noticed was that Batwoman wasn't sexualised! Yes, there are a couple of shots where you get some nipple-suit action a la Batman and Robin, but she is clearly not drawn for sexual appeal. Yes she is sexy, but that's not Herr reason for being there.

Her proportions are well done. Her outfit is practical. Her action shots, and there are quite a few, are not artistically designed to give the best view of her arse without any practical benefits. She actually kicks arse and is shown kicking arse! You would not believe how happy this makes me!
J H Williams III, you get two big thumbs up from me!

Now onto the plot. I'll try not to reveal anything for those who haven't read it yet.

Batwoman: Elegy is written by Greg Rucka. I hadn't actually heard of him before picking up this book, but now I'm gonna start searching. This book is well structured, well placed, and just fucking fantastic. I was hooked from the second I picked it up. After reading a few comics where I felt "Good, but meh" this was a welcome change.

Batwoman, Kate Kane, is the star of this show. She is saved once by a man, but this is not because he is stronger than her or because she is inherently weak. She is a very well fleshed out character. Her motivations make sense, she is deeply layered, she isn't just a cardboard cutout out there to please the men.

Oh, and she's a lesbian.

The villain of this story is also a woman. A strong woman who is in charge of a group. She has a frightening presence that gave me chills.
And seriously, seeing two well-fleshed, well done women kicking arse was such a delight.

If you haven't already, get your hands on a copy of Batwoman: Elegy. If this review doesn't convince you, then the introduction written by Rachel Maddow might nudge you in the right direction ;-)

I know I'm generally a Marvel woman, but I will venture to DC again and again and again if I can get more of this :D


1. My spellcheck recognises Batman but not Batwoman. #patriarchywhatpatriatchy

Rage Blogging: Shut Up BB

This is the first in a series of me talking about things that make me angry. Warning for this series, it will often include violent imagery.

This post is less rage, and more angrily annoyed.
BB refers to the qualified caregiver in my room.

Today BB was being really fucking annoying. It's not much, just the little comments. The ones that go on and on and on and on and just leave me wanting to smash her against a wall. It started with the tape.

She has some silver duct tape in our room. It has Toddlers written on it. BB bought this tape, but there was no indication of this on the tape. It just said toddlers. J used the tape. J is not in the toddler room, she is in the baby room. She was told to get the tape specifically from the toddler draw, so she did.

First BB went off at J. She told her off, said it was her tape, and she shouldn't be using it. Can't she see it says toddlers? J apologised, said she was told to get that tape, that she hadn't used much, but she's sorry Nd wont do it again.

That wasn't good enough for BB. BB went on and on and on about it. Mostly this was directed at me. Being in the room, I'm the one she complains at. And boy did she complain! She was at it for a good hour and a half! And after lunch, when we were sitting with the toddlers trying to get them to sleep, she started up again!

Which brings me to my second point. Talking. In the sleep room. While I'm trying to get my toddlers to sleep. Come on! This has been brought up in staff meetings before, you constantly criticise the other women who do it, why the fuck are you talking to me?

The children are trying to sleep! No wonder it takes them a while with you rabbiting on constantly! And then you act hypocritical as well, and tell the toddlers off for talking! Look, it's a distraction. Stop. Seriously!

This concludes the session of rage blogging. We now return you to your regular programming.

Almost Wordless Wednesday: There's A Pumpkin On My Head

Me: a white woman with (in this photo) dark purple hair. I'm wearing a dark blue shirt, black jumper. The straps Fromm my backpack are visible on my shoulders.
On my head is an upside-down plush Halloween basket shaped like a smiling jack'o'lantern. It is orange with green arms and legs. The basket strap hangs down under my chin.

Picture Blogging: A Walk With AtariCat

This post is graphic heavy.

Note: Atari (often called AtariCat) is a small grey tortoiseshell cat. She has fairly long, fluffy fur. Her colouring is mostly light grey, with darker grey stripes and patches, as well as light brown patches. This works together to give a mottled effect. Her eyes are yellow.
In all these photos, she is wearing a black collar with two small bells and a green tag (the tag is actually a chip from an Atari). She has a pink lead attached to her collar.

I have a cat. Her name is Atari, because she acts like an old game on an Atari console (often running back and forth the house, for no perceived reason). Atari is an inside cat, but she likes to get out. Every week or two I take Atari for a walk, so she can experience the fresh air and new smells and have a bit of fun.

Here are some pictures I took during on of our walks.

Freedom at last!

AtariCat crouches on some dead leaves. A brick wall is behind her. Creeping along the ground and up the wall is a vine with big green leaves. She smells one.

I are jungle cat!

AtariCat's head can be seen, fuzzy with motion blur, between some ferns. The ground is dark soil with scattered dead leaves and twigs.

Is this a cave?

The ground is dark soil with scattered dead leaves and twigs. AtariCat is standing under a concrete slab (bottom of stairs) with a brick column next to her and a brick wall behind her. She is looking up and to the left of the photo.

Ooh, what's under here?

AtariCat has her back to the camera. She is crouching on the ground, which is covered in dead leaves. She is sticking her head into a patch of green vine leaves.

Even in the wilderness, my cunning discovery skills has found me a couch!

AtariCat sitting on the arm of a blue couch with floral patterns. A reflection of her and the couch can be seen in a window

Sand!

AtariCat lying on her side on a square-brick path. There is yellow sand on the path. One of her front paws is running her head. At the edge of the path is leaves and a limestone stone.

Things I Learned In Childcare

This list is a collection of things I picked up while working in the childcare industry. Some of these things I'm sure parents will have picked up too, others may be industry specific.
Just a bit of light-hearted fun :-)

• Babies are loud. Very loud.
  
• Sometimes babies are loud for no reason and no matter what you do, you can't calm them down.
  
• And then someone else will come in, pick them up, and they'll be fine, leaving you feeling rather silly. Damn.
  
• Toddlers are also loud, and often make a game of it.
  
• Sometimes toddlers are loud because the other toddlers are loud and they want to be the loudest.
  
• Maybe you should just invest in earplugs.
  
• When it comes to books, songs, games, tyres no such thing as "Too much" in the mind of a child. Unless you want to do it, at which point the child is bored.
  
• You have never finished the nappies of the day.
  
• No matter how many times it happens, it still feels gross to be pooed on.
  
• Expect snot by the bucketful.
  
• This sort of work is really gross.
  
• Red paint will not wash out.
  
• There are some children who will not eat fruit, bread, vegetables, noodles, meat, chicken, eggs or soup.
  
• They will, however, eat dirt, sand, snails and milipedes.
  
• There is no "right" way for a child to develop.
  
• But everyone will tell you that this child is developing the "wrong" way.
  
• If you are a mother, no matter what you're doing, you're doing it wrong.
  
• You will have a song stuck in your head for weeks. As soon as it leaves your head, a child will request it.
  
• You will want to take photos to show your friends, and will be upset that you can't.
  
• At the end of a long day, when you feel like shit and just want to cry, one of your kids will give you a hug. Nothing feels better.

And there was great rejoicing!

Australia has a female Prime Minister.

I'm going to repeat that because I'm still having trouble believing it.

Australia has a female Prime Minister!
The Honorary Julia Gillard became the first woman to hold the title of Prime Minister of Australia earlier today. She was sworn in by our first female Governer General.
I'm still having trouble believing that this actually happened!!

Today I am not listening to people who make sexist jokes at her expense. Today I'm not listening to people who say our country is now doomed. Today I'm not listening to people who say she not fit because she's childless, or atheist, or unmarried.
Because today I weep for joy.

I stuck her photo on the staff room cupboard with the words "Gillard Newe PM" cut out of the newspaper. I wrote a message on the whiteboard in my room so that everyone could see my joy. I bought cake and chocolates for my coworkers so we could celebrate together. Because I am so unbelievably happy right now.

I tried to explain it to one of our students. She wanted to know why this made me so happy; all my coworkers did. I looked at my room full of toddlers and babies. My room mostly filled with children presumed female.
And I said, these children are growing up in a world where a woman can be Prime Minister. It's not a dream, or a hope, it s a fact. That is the world these children are growing up in.

I couldn't keep the break out of my voice, or the tears from my eyes. Because today it became a reality.

Australia has a female Prime Minister!

And I can't help but weep with joy.

Creating an Equalist Playlist

Please suggest me songs!

This is just the start! More songs will be added as people suggest them. Yes, I am actually buying these songs and adding them to a playlist.

Jill Souble: I Kissed A Girl (lyrics)
Lily Allen: Fuck You (Lyrics)
Lily Allen: Knock Em Out (Lyrics. Warning for some ableist language in this song)
Lily Allen: The Fear (Lyrics)
No Doubt: Just A Girl (lyrics. There's a popup on this site)
They Might Be Giants: Your Racist Friend (Lyrics. Warning for some ableist language in this song)

My definition of Equalist can be found in my profile, visible at the side of this page.

When she was twenty-two...

MASSIVE TRIGGER WARNINGS!! Warning for talk of abuse, self harm, sexual assault...

And this is just the stuff i can remember.

"You're too young to be depressed."
"Why are you so sad, you've got your whole life ahead if you?"
"What could have possibly happened to make you this way? You're only..."
"You're too young to know what real suffering is like."
"You're too young..."

I've heard it all before. Since I was a child, people were telling me that I had no right to feel bad, no right to be depressed. After all, what could have possibly happened to me? I was only 6, 10, 13, 15, 17, 18, 22...

The earliest I remember feeling depressed is when I was six. I tried to explain it not my mum. I didn't have the words. I told her I felt sad, listless, like I couldn't care about anything. She said "You mean you don't care about God or Jesus or your family? That's a horrible thing to say!". Not horrible that a six year old would feel like that... That I was a horrible person, as if my inability to care about things meant I didn't love my family. Because that's how she interpreted it.

How was she to know I was depressed? I was only six. How was I to know? I don't even know why I felt that way, my memories are far too fuzzy. I only remember guilt, and shame, a fear of my bath, a fear of rape.

When I was ten, I was sexually abused by someone I trusted, an adult who was so much a part of the family that we called him "Uncle". A good, upstanding Christian man. He groomed me first. He bought me treats, and sweets, was kind to me, did anything I wanted. When he touched me, he made me believe that it was an accident, that it was my imagination. When he rubbed my back, he said it was just friendly, he was just helping. My mother scolded me, telling me I was never to let a man touch me like that again.

When he pulled my pants down, he made it seem like an accident. He was just playing. When he put his hand down my nickers and grabbed me, he grinned and apologized for being so rude.
He left me feeling, to this day, that the assault was my fault. That I had caused it. Didn't my mother warn me? Why did I let him do that? Did I make him do that?

When I was in school, I was subject to a never ending tirade of abuse. From shunning to insults to people who pretended to be my friend just to see me cry when they insulted me. It got to the point where I would rather die than have to face school again.
When I had "friends" who beat me up at fourteen, I thought, at least they're paying attention to me.
When I had "friends" who made clear how much they hated me at fifteen, I though, at least they arrant beating me up.

I was thirteen when i started hurting myself. I would tear out chunks of skin with my fingernails. I would heat up a spoon with boiling water then hold it to my skin until it burned, leaving huge blisters on my hand. I would punch walls with bare fists as hard as I could, leaving my hands covered in scrapes and bruises. I would scratch at my ankles and thighs with sharp scissors, going over the same mark again and again and again. I would out peroxide and tea tree oil on my cuts just to feel the sting. I would snap rubber bandcs on my hands repetitively, hard enough to lessee welts. I would snap rubber bands on the burns I'd given myself, on the cuts I'd given myself.
I call myself a "former" self harmer, but I don't feel I can fully claim that title. The last time I hurt myself was last year, and I've thought about doing it a Hell of a lot since then.

When I was 15 I moved out of home. My parents tried to make me move back, and threatened to cut off all support, financial, emotional, unless I did what they asked. I won that battle, but at a terrible cost.

When I was sixteen, I was living with a friend of mine who emotionally abused me. She didn't mean to, and she did and does love me, but the scars she left still hurt. Still have me doubting myself and my feelings.

I've always had to tiptoe around my father. For as long as I can remember. I never knew when he would start to rant and rave, when he would throw things. One minute he was my father, the next he was a ball of barely contained fury. I would hide in my room until he stopped shouting. I would bring him a cup of coffee after he finished, hoping against hope that he didn't turn his rage on me. It was a nightmare. One minute I would be talking to him, the next it was as if something snapped, and all I can remember is the rage.

When I was 17, I had someone follow me home because they couldn't take no for an answer. He refused to leave until a friend of mine pulled a knife on him.
At 18 I had someone I didn't know follow me home. He asked for directions, I didn't know the way, he followed me home. This was ten at night, everything was closed, I was terrified and alone. When I got home, I thought I was safe, until he rapped on the window.

I was terrified growing up. Scared of my father and what he would do if I was bad. Scared of being raped. Scared of my mother blaming me for the sexual abuse. Scared of hell... Fuck, I'm a Pagan and I'm still terrified of Hell.

I'm still trying to stop myself from blaming myself for everything.

So tell me, at what age am I allowed to have experienced this shit. At what age am I allowed to be upset by it? When you tell me I'm only young, I've had a short life, yes. I am young. My lief has been short. But I was abused at ten. Young means diddly squat. Young doesn't protect you from harm. Young doesn't stop older men abusing you. Young doesn't stop you abusing yourself. Young doesn't mean that you haven't experienced some horrific fucking shit in your life.

And writing off my experiences because you think I'm too young to understand? Is a fucking shitty thing to do.