KerrieJean.com

I have just emerged from my traditional self-induced Valium Non-Frequent Terrified Flyer Coma……..

With pathetic news…….

During my one-month ‘Summering over’ in the  controversial Murray-Darling Basin community of my hometown, Leeton, NSW, I – for the first time in decades – desperately tried to form a meangingful new relationship.

The target of my affections?

A scungy donkey which – in mysterious circumstances – has come to reside at my oldest sister’s small rural spread.

[When donkeys were fun. cr: National Library, Scotland:flickr]

His name is ‘Hee-Haw’.

Not that he cares. 

‘Hee-Haw’ answers to nobody. Does less than nothing.  Neither loves nor hates. Contributes nowt. Plug ugly…..

 ……Occasionally bares his big choppers to make darn sure the world knows he’s still breathing….

……. Looking exactly like the old sub-editors on my first newspaper who were always coming to terms with ill-fitting dentures.

What did I want from ‘Hee-Haw’?

Not much.

Just what I’d tried to get from other doomed-from-the start relationships……..

Mutuality; companionship; an acknowledgement of what it is to be human and donkey……..a laugh or two.

Every morning, I’d get very close to ‘Hee-Haw’, look him straight in the eye……..and talk and talk and talk.

Asked him what it was like to be the continual butt of crass sexual innuendo in relation to his private parts.

Asked him who he admired most. Simpson or The Donkey?

Wanted to know if it was appropriate for me to ask the council if he could parade up the main street on Christmas Eve - me astride with a blow-up wading pool under flowing garments and my nephew walking alongside with a concerned look on his face.

…….And I begged him to show emotion….joy, hate, anger, conflicted……..ANYTHING.

Nothing.

Eventually, I exploded.

Told sister that I disliked ‘Hee-Haw’ very much. 

More to the point, he repulsed me.

She said I was a hateful person.

……And, unlike me, ‘Hee-Haw’ was harmless.

I said donkeys should be castrated. Assigned to the dustbin of extinction.

She said she was going to make quadruple cream matchsticks [my fave] but had changed her mind.

I said I didn’t want ‘Hee-Haw’ to come between us.

To tell you the truth, it’s going to take a long time for things to get back on track.

Isn’t it pathetic…….isn’t it always the same?

A bad, lazy ‘good for nothin’ guy gets to pull the strings……

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So…..so…..so…….2011 off to a cracking start….

Familial relations strained to beaking point and I’m being reported to the RSPCA for psychological abuse…..

The next thing, you’ll be writing in telling me how you love donkeys – and how they should be called in to help mop up Brisbane…….

Say what you like. I don’t care.

On a happier note, please report in on what’s happening (or not) on your patch.

This is a generalist ‘Living, Loving, Learning’ forum so you can offload your thoughts and fears and observations – and no-one will think any the less of you.

Isn’t that great?

Go ahead. Do it by:

Just clicking on the ‘comment’ thingo and following the simple instructions. The place to write your gems is at the bottom of the last published comment. *A little bit of counsel for people new to this caper. Your email (just called ‘mail’ in this case) address does NOT come up on site. And just ignore the URL thingo.

DATELINE: Monday Jan 10. Murray-Darling Basin, Murrumbigee Irrigation Area Without Guaranteed Water, Leeton, NSW, Pacific Rim, Computer Terminal Reserved For Seniors, Leeton Library.

Hello, hello, hello…….tentative greetings once more from Australia’s most controversial Basin…….

Greetings again from a town rent asunder - a town where family members are at war with each other more than usual.

Some long to pack up and go live somewhere with 21st Century amenities like trees, handsome men and occasional inclines……

Others argue long into stinking hot nights that the importance of water for the cycle of life has always been hopelessly overstated:

‘I’m stayin’, I’m stayin’, I’m bloody well stayin’ – this is where I got my first sunstroke, this is where I got divorced (twice) and this is where I intend to get divorced again……I’m stayin’, I’m stayin’, I’m bloody well stayin’……….[by the way KJ, you busy Saturday night?]

[Hands Off Our Town: cr: Powerhouse Museum Collection: flickr]

Where do I stand?

Well, as one who’s never been a fence sitter [because of serious OH&S issues] and is not about to start now, I’ll tell you where…….

I want the uncertainty to end.

I want to know if my hometown will continue to provide the same level of services it has always prided itself on doing so……..

I want to be assured I’ll be able to get a Brazilian Wax in secure and pleasant surroundings…….

I want to be assured there’ll be able-bodied and filthy rich rice farmers to date……..

And I want to be assured that if those dates do not go to plan, I have easy access to mental health care teams.

This is the reality.

The reality behind the headlines, the politicking and the promises……

Country people have the right to Brazilian Waxes and love – just like their city counterparts.

Remember this next time you read, or hear, or watch a story about the Murray-Darling Basin Plan.

And let your imagination and emotions run free.

Empathy – not sympathy – PLEASE!

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Gosh, gosh, GOSH! I’m glad I got that off my chest.

I mean some people - they really don’t know what they’re talking about……..

How are you handling the usual January-driven uncertainties…..?

You know what I mean?

Will I go to Fiji or use the money to buy new blinds?

Will I accept that there is no God or continue going to Mass etc, etc, etc?

Always difficult.

My counsel? For the time being, just keep making the same mistakes. To change direction at present would just add to your stress.

Love to hear from you. Everything valid.

[Particularly if you're about to make a big mistake and want to be assured that you're on the right track.......trust me, I'll back you all the way....] 

Do report in by:

Just clicking on the ‘comment’ thingo and following the simple instructions. The place to write your gems is at the bottom of the last published comment. *A little bit of counsel for people new to this caper. Your email (just called ‘mail’ in this case) address does NOT come up on site. And just ignore the URL thingo.

Dateline:  Monday (too hot, delusional, don’t know the date) Murray-Darling Basin, Murrumbigee Irrigation Area with no water, New South Wales, Pacific Rim, Leeton, New South Wales.

Happy New Year!

Needless to say, I’d love to to give you a big tongue kiss as appropriate thanks for coming in here and helping fund this old stager’s moisturiser and sun spot removal costs – but that’s not possible.

…….So instead, pinch your bum NOW and say out loud:

‘This one’s from KJ!’

Now….back to what’s loosely called ‘life’ in Australia’s most controversial/contested zone.

Simply put: it’s a wonder you’re reading this.

I am a journalist.

More than once in a stellar career spanning 30 years, I have put myself on the line.

I have sipped lattes for four days waiting for distressed juries to hand down verdicts in macabre cases, I have seen politicians pushing Y-fronts below belts before facing the cameras, I have had starlets look me in the eye and say: ‘Yes KJ, they are real’ [and I have gone home and wept and raged at their audacity]

But, nothing prepared for for this……

The last two days have seen temperatures soar to 43 degrees.

And Gwennie’s massive rooftop airconditioner spluttered – and died.

Gwennie (86), me and another loved one have just spent 48 hours slumped in front of one desk fan.

[cr:Sam Hood, State Library, NSW: flickr]

Three women in just bras and panties. Three women gulping water from old juice bottles. Three women forced to face each other, ’see’ each other in terrible circumstances.

I would like to tell you that the three semi-nude cross-generationalists behaved well.

But that would be a lie.

I would like to tell you that I can forgive Gwennie for what she said to me.

But that would be a lie.

At 4pm, New Year’s Day, 2011, she turned to me, had a big swig of water –  and said:

‘You’re wearing the wrong bra. You need something with a bit more horsepower. You really should go and get fitted.’

Time stopped.

Sweat poured off me.

Then I went in hard.

‘Well, Cottontails don’t do much for me. I’d like to see you in something a little more playful.’

Time stopped.

And then we all went back to putting our energies into staying alive.

***********************************

How’s it going on your patch? Any holiday disasters?

My New Year resolution? Get fitted for a bra with a bit more horsepower. Yours is no doubt a little more meangingful but I am I and You are You……and that’s not going to change, is it?

So, report in. Easy. Carbon neutral. Done by:

Just clicking on the ‘comment’ thingo and following the simple instructions. The place to write your gems is at the bottom of the last published comment. *A little bit of counsel for people new to this caper. Your email (just called ‘mail’ in this case) address does NOT come up on site. And just ignore the URL thingo.

Dateline: 26/12.1010: Leeton, NSW, Murrumbigee Irrigation Area, Murray-Darling Basin, Australia, The Pacific Rim.

Christmas has come and gone in a puff of trifle……

Gorgeous day considering what my local chronicle, ‘The Irrigator’, was reporting in it’s ’Peace & Goodwill To All’ edition.

It’s official.

My hometown is dangerous and chaotic – a God forsaken place where cruel nature and filthy politics have converged in a Perfect Mortein Storm……

To be brutally honest, I cannot guarantee I will be leaving here in one piece.

May I summarise the ‘The Irrigator’s’ Christmas Eve front page?

(1) There is a fruit fly plague of unprecented proportions.

The fruit fly [Fruitius Flyoffius Extremis] are as a big as guinea pigs and are swallowing peaches from backyard trees in one gulp.

The town is bathed in a low, thick cloud of Mortein.

Authorities are telling townsfolk Mortein is of no use against Fruitius Flyoffius Extremis. To no avail. In crisises, people want to, have to feel they’re doing something.

And they are: altering their gene pool forever.

(2) The first rain here for 10 years has brought with it more prestilence: Mossius Buzzoffius Extremis.

Have you ever heard of Barmah Fever?

Probably not.

And neither had I until December 24th……

…..When ‘The Irrigator’ warned that if just one Mossie Extremis gets through an innocent’s Mortein Armour, Barmah Fever will strike them down in an agonising combination of scourges – itchy scalp, full body 24-hour sweats, delusions of grandeur and, most terrifying of all, atrophy in the genital region.

Please God let me leave this place Barmah Fever free.

(3) The road between Wagga and Narrandera has been re-opened after the floods.

This has caused enormous problems for ex-Leetonites who’d  been promising loved ones they’d be back  for Christmas ‘if the road is open’ [which was looking very unlikely] 

Imagine their distress when mum or dad rang up:

‘Good news Rodney, the road’s all clear! We’ll be seeing you and Trish and the kids late Friday – can’t wait…….just can’t wait……’

Still, life goes on.

But only because country people are very resilient, very Mortein and Aeroguard resistant.

Another big take home message from around town:

You touch our water allocations and we’ll get bootloads of Fruitius Flyoffius and Mossius Buzzoffius Extremis – and dump ‘em right on the sails of the Opera House.

So there.

*Must say I thought it was a little OTT when a local hairdresser’s window carried this threat:

‘No Basin Cuts!’  [More Murray-Darling Basin angst....]

Well, well, well……

I vote. I pay my taxes. I generally stay within the law.

And if I want a basin cut, I expect you’d respect my inalienable right to get one!

************************************************

So, hope all is well in your patch. At least not as scary as it is here. I feel so inadequate. While people are running around selling fundraising raffle tickets for ’weekends for two ‘ in Barmah fever -free caravan parks, I am strangely immobilised.

Fear does that.

And so does two kilos of trifle, a side of pork, two trays of reindeer crackling – and, oh yes, cheeky libations: source unknown.

Do report in – your hopes and your dreams – your reality – is important to me and the nation. It’s free – it’s easy. Do it by…….

Just clicking on the ‘comment’ thingo and following the simple instructions. The place to write your gems is at the bottom of the last published comment. *A little bit of counsel for people new to this caper. Your email (just called ‘mail’ in this case) address does NOT come up on site. And just ignore the URL thingo.

So here I am……….

Chasing a star, speeding towards a small stabling facility out the back of nowhere and grabbing trinkets off the shelves of Seven-Eleven stores [knew you'd like it, just knew you would!] 

Oh dear……..

But still, I’ll let you into a little secret: I’m crazy about Christmas – always have been, always will be……

It makes me feel alive, which is amazing considering the litany of ‘tricky, tricky, tricky’ episodes that have marked 2010.

And trust me, I will tell you about the trickiest of those ’tricky, tricky, trickys’ at a later date.  

But quite frankly, I’m not going to ‘waste’ them at present. Even I know they pale into insignificance [just] if put up against an impending assisted Virgin Birth.

I know what a big story is……

And I can tell you a Virgin Birth is going to lead the seven o’clock news – and the 7:30 Report, with or without Mister O’Brien.   

So, this Christmas I am turning my efforts to things literary, things metaphoric….

I am currently penning a short story called: ‘The Christmas Prawns’.

[Trad Xmas Game: Prawn Roulette: Cr: National US Archives: flickr]

‘The Christmas Prawns’ is about loved ones gathered at a Christmas luncheon table in a small inland town.

Prawns and this town are not comfortable bedmates……

 …..This town where December temps propel local climate change activists’ knickers into terrible knots which makes things ever more uncomfortable ….

……This town which is so far away from Source Of Prawns, they’re hauled in in armoured ice trucks manned by Special Prawn Guards………

….This town in which the ‘Prawn As Christmas Luncheon Centrepiece’ is a relatively new mantra.

The intro to ‘The Christmas Prawns’ says:

 ’All families love prawns, they just love them in their own way.’

For our family, Christmas Prawns are taken DIY style – everybody is removing those pesky digestive tracts at the table.

Festivities continue…….

But at 4pm, it starts. Mass queasiness, followed by unspeakable bodily evacuations.

‘The Christmas Prawns’ centres on just who will take responsibility for the shocking turn of events.

Who set the fridge temp?

Did the Prawn Purchaser transport the Prawns in the boot of their car?

Who assembled  The Prawn Platter?

Were rubber gloves provided?/if so, were they used?

How long was The Prawn Platter on the bench after assemblage?

In ‘The Christmas Prawns’, there are no answers.

I simply leave our fragile family on Boxing Day quietly coming to terms with the Christmas Prawns Fiasco.

This year, I want you to see The Off Prawn as a powerful metaphor for your family’s celebrations.

If something terrible happens, it is no one’s fault.

……..Just a intricate web of small oversights……

Culminating in a fully-blown traditional Yuletide Disaster.

********************************

So, Merry Christmas……..

But, you will hear from me briefly before then – because on Wednesday I’ll be flying Air Valium to a small inland town very far away from the Source Of Prawn.

And I am very much looking forward to having a good sniff of  my prawns pre-injestion come Christmas Day.

In the meantime, do you think the ‘Off’ Prawn metaphor is a good one for family life?

I hope so because ‘The Christmas Prawns’ is nearly finished and I’ve squeezed out every last drop of my creative juices on it, I really have…..

Another thing – as per tradition - here’s a little link to the Christmas song which I recorded with the musical genius, Big Swifty, a couple of Christmases ago. 

[Big Swifty: We coulda been big! ]

 *Everybody said Big Swifty did a great job but they weren’t backwards in coming forward to offer this opinion:  KJ, you can’t sing!

click-to-hear-They’re-Your-Bloody-Family

Isn’t that mean?

 Next thing, the same people will be telling me ‘The Christmas Prawns’ doesn’t work, just does NOT work as a piece of literature.

Big deal!

Please report in – it’s free, easy - and it’ll really calm my nerves before Air Valium tries to take off  on Wednesday. Do the humane thing by:

Just clicking on the ‘comment’ thingo and following the simple instructions. The place to write your gems is at the bottom of the last published comment. *A little bit of counsel for people new to this caper. Your email (just called ‘mail’ in this case) address does NOT come up on site. And just ignore the URL thingo.

Quelle horreur……

What to give those pesky loved ones for Chrissy when they [as they keep shouting to the world] apparently have everything’?

And when I say ‘everything’ I mean EVERYTHING…….

……Irritating personalities, nauseating insignificant others, 17 investment properties [18 if you count the paramilitary training camp in Costa Rica] and goddamnit, what appears to be percolating contentment, if not the cheap thrill that masquerades as happiness…….

What to give ‘em?

I know exactly……

I hereby declare Christmas 2010 as:

 ’The Year Of Giving Folks With EVERYTHING A Big Kick Up The Bum’.

[Xmas Shopping: State Library NSW. Cr: flickr]

It’s gunna be fantastic……..

Do start making those [usually tedious] now thrilling phone calls right away…..

Here’s your script. And do not deviate from it for maximum effect.

You: Good tidings! 

……It’s your unacceptable sister/ good time brother/selfish daughter/crazy n’er do well son/creepy cousin 34 times removed/hero who saved you from having a grostesque full head perm in 1982……..

And what, dear one, would you like for Chrissy?

Whoever: Thank you for asking but it just so happens that I have EVERYTHING……….

You: Yes, yes I’ve heard that…….but I’ve really been thinking hard……….

About what to give lucky you, you of the lucky 0.009876 of  lucky people who luckily have EVERYTHING…..

Whoever: What so, what so, what so? [you sweet little bearer of  unbounded joy?]

You: I’m going to give you something you really deserve….and you do deserve much…….

Whoever: What so, what so, what so?

You:  *A Big Chrissy Kick Up The Bum!

* Your conversation should end right here or shortly after.

Finally, fond pre-Chrissy thoughts of the ’seasonal’ ladies at the Leeton Cannery I worked with in the seventies……

These gals?

They were never in line for A Big Chrissy Kick Up The Bum…..

Stinking hot, hard, repetitive work…..

But above the shocking noise?

Always news of the latest Chrissy pressie triumphants…..

‘ The trampoline……T-R-A-M-P-O-L-I-N-E…… comes off lay-by today……

‘Great! I get my hands on Warren’s fishing tackle….T-A-C-K-L-E…..next pay……….

‘Better you than me….I still wanna get THE bikes……B-I-K-E-S……but we’ll just *haveta see, haveta see…….’

*Everyone knew Lorna’s hubby, Wazza, always needed a Good Kick Up The Bum all year round……

 But no need to say it, none at all…….

*************************************

So, who will you be giving A Good Chrissy Kick Up The Bum….?

Perhaps you’re one of those folks who have everything – gee, what’s that like?  

What’s the worst Chrissie pressie that ever came your way? Did it make you feel totally unloved?

While I’ve got your attention, is it at all possible that Santa kicks his reindeers’ bums to make them go faster?

How’s that for a new Christmas story angle?!  

[Bosses take note. Well done KJ, if I don't say so myself.......]

****Before I go, best of luck to everyone in Gumly Gumly (near Wagga Wagga) facing the ire of the great Murrumbidgee. I know we have kerriejean.com community members down that way. Be safe – report in if you’ve got time. I know you’re very busy.

Looking forward to hearing from old and new visitors. It’s very easy to tell us what you’re doing/or thinking/or whose bums you’re kicking….

Do it by:

Just clicking on the ‘comment’ thingo and following the simple instructions. The place to write your gems is at the bottom of the last published comment. *A little bit of counsel for people new to this caper. Your email (just called ‘mail’ in this case) address does NOT come up on site. And just ignore the URL thingo.