Happy belated Thanksgiving

Yeah yeah, I'm a bit slow on the uptake, I know.

But happy happy to my US friends :) I'm thankful that I've met you all.

I think that by this time next year I should be dating an American so I can muscle in on pumpkin pie and those sweet potato marshmallow-y things..

My day(s) in pictures

I took the morning off to take my Beautiful Boy to Mom's & Tots playschool - he LOVES it!
I'm enjoying the hand holding phase while it lasts..

Making the Honourary Lesbian try on ugly tops for the camera - isn't she lovely?

An action shot of my favourite polka dot dress

Ang, I found you on my globe! Ang is coming to visit SA next year :)

Let me introduce My Beautiful Boy Number Two (isn't my sister a cute preggie?)

My daily dose of gay - the dogs and I catching up on Ellen shows

My Beautiful Boy is in hospital. He's really ill with some viral / bacterial combination... it's hard. If love could make you better he'd never be sick.

He's a fighter though. My little guy is tough.

We're going to be fine.

Alpha Femme

I'm still finding my way in this new landscape that is my true identity. I'm still discovering things about myself, and trying on different images to see if they fit with who and what I am. I suspect this will be an ongoing, life-long project.

Alphafemme blogged about how she came to her title, and I found myself nodding my head the whole way:

“...you’re strong, and fierce, and driven, and you’re always on top of everything, always in control. And you dress sharply feminine, powerful. But you’re also vulnerable, I think, I mean right? Don’t you sometimes just want someone to hold you and have someone else be the stronger one?”

...“alpha” is an excellent way of describing me. I’m confident in my intellect, and I am meticulous, in control, ambitious, and driven. But I’m not just alpha. I’m alphafemme. I’m an alpha who wants to be enfolded at the end of the day. I’m an alpha who loves to pretend I’m a 50s housewife, but happier. I’m an alpha with soft eyes and a maternal edge. I’m an alpha, with femme. Alphafemme.

Well hello there Alpha Femme.

I think one of the reasons that I've struggled with my femme identity in the past is because I am in no way subservient. And being femme is traditionally associated with being submissive, passive and a 'good little girl'.

Its hard, trying to find your place in the world when you defy every expectation, when everything about you is a contradiction.

She's gay. She wears high heels and make-up. She cooks up a storm. She loves babies. She's nurturing. She is soft. She is sensitive. She is gentle. She is ferocious. She's a go-getter. She's intelligent. She's a deep thinker. She's strong. She's in control. She's determined. She's motivated. She is self-assured.

It's a journey.

I'm finding my way.

Beautiful

You know how a particular sound, or a taste, or scent can take you back in heartbeat to the place you remember it most?

Like opening your school lunchbox years and years later, and experiencing that tupperware / plastic wrapped sandwhich smell which brings on a rush of anxiety? Well maybe that one was just me. I was not particulary enamoured of school my first year..

This song does that to me. This song was mine.

I'm too tired to figure how to get the video on here (Ang a lesson on windows media player pls!), so please click on the link:

Beautiful

Beautiful, no?

The story of the crazy cows

When I was sixteen I went with my family to England on a long-boat trip.

It was so peaceful, slowly winding our way between the little villages on lazy, sluggish rivers..

One afternoon we'd stopped next to a pretty field. My sister was being moody and hormonal, so she a took a book, a blanket, and flounced off to go read in peace away from us all. I was sitting in the front of the boat, appreciating the scenery. The green fields, the birds chirping, the peaceful cows grazing in the distance..

I noticed the cows moving closer and closer. Eventually she got up and flapped her blanket at them.

Bad idea.

When I looked up again she was running screaming towards me, with a herd of angry cows seriously chasing her. Their cow eyes were all big and crazy, and they were literally snorting down the back of her neck. I could hear them snorting!

She ran in a zig-zag pattern (smart thinking under pressure) to try throw them off, but the whole herd followed her exact zig-zag path.

I was paralysed with laughter, lying over the side of the boat, tears running down my face, shouting "run Liesl, RUN!". I couldn't have moved if I'd wanted to.

She made it to the boat just in time. The cows lined up at the river bank and pawed the ground furiously, snorting some more.

The book and blanket were lost in the battle. We were too scared to fetch them.

She was so mad with me because I didn't help her, but what could I do? It was a whole herd of evil, out of control cows. The only person I could save was myself.

This is me

I like to know people - really know people.

I find it easy to chat to random strangers and acquaintances. But give me shallow or superficial for any length of time, and I start to stumble. This means I do not have legions of friends, but the ones I do keep are absolutely a cherished part of my life.

I'm naturally curious too. I want to understand. I want to know what hurt you, what makes you tick, what makes you soar, who makes you cry, what happened to put that pain you think you hide so well in your eyes. I genuinely care enough to learn these things.

Is this normal? I wonder sometimes.

I love blogging. I love reading about your lives and learning more about you.. I love that Solo has finally found a woman worthy of her, that Jude is going to kick that cancer in the butt, that Becca and Dawn constantly prove to me that happy monogamous young lesbians with happy children actually exist, that Amy is finding her truth with such grace, that Rockets dog is getting wheels..

Thank you for sharing a little piece of yourselves.

PS. In the interests of satisfying my inner nosey-parker, I promise to do my happy dance if you make like Ang and post pics about your home town and daily life. I love seeing it through your eyes, and I love learning about your country.

Words for Wednesdays

In the Storm

Some black ducks
were shrugged up
on the shore.
It was snowing

hard, from the east,
and the sea
was in disorder.

Then some sanderlings,
five inches long
with beaks like wire,
flew in,
snowflakes on their backs,

and settled
in a row
behind the ducks-
whose backs were also

covered with snow-
so close
they were all but touching,
they were all but under

the roof of the ducks' tails,
so the wind, pretty much,
blew over them.
They stayed that way, motionless,

for maybe an hour,
then the sanderlings,
each a handful of feathers,
shifted, and were blown away

out and over the water
which was still raging.
But, somehow,
they came back

and again the ducks,
like a feathered hedge,
let them
crouch there, and live.

If someone you didn't know
told you this,
as I am telling you this,
would you believe it?

Belief isn't always easy.
But this much I have learned-
If not enough else-
to live with my eyes open.

I know what everyone wants
is a miracle.
This wasn't a miracle.
Unless, of course, kindness-

as now and again
some rare person has suggested-
is a miracle.

As surely it is.