Altruistic Pizza

21 May

homemade pizza ingredientsMister H’s favorite food is pizza.

When we first met he probably had a pizza once a week. A big greasy, cheesy yummy one with pepperoni and anchovies. We had some rockin’ pizza delivery places in our old ‘hood.

Many evenings, when exhaustion ringed my eyes, he would altruistically suggest we get a pizza delivered.

If I called him at work saying I was having a terrible day, he would suggest pizza.

When I’m sick and unable to cook, he will suggest pizza.

If my arms were broken or amputated, he would suggest pizza.

He will always take one (‘za) for the team, my man. (Disclaimer: may or may not have exaggerated slightly – sorry, darling.)

Since moving to the ‘burbs we’ve been in a pizza wasteland. With much anticipation and hope in our hearts we’ve had deliveries of all kinds of pizza.

Too cheesy.

Hard to believe there could be such a thing, but when your entire mouth is cloyed and cemented, you gotta call it how you see it. We could barely make it through a couple of pieces and we threw the rest away. Sacrilege!

Too greasy.

Shouldn’t drip oil down to your elbow. Just wrong.

Too doughy.

Shouldn’t need a set of Jaws of Life to chew through your pie.

Too much by way of topping.

Suburban pizzerias think more is more when it comes to their skyscraping pizza. The Godfather would roll in his grave if he saw these atrocities against Italy.

I started making my own, and I have to say, I’ve actually mastered the art, except that one time I was talking myself up hard but in the midst of my dough making the police arrived to take a statement about a break-in and I forgot where I was up to. I forgot to add the olive oil to my dough and it is integral it seems. That was a sad day.

Stolen goods, and dodgy pizza.

homemade pizza dough A chip off the old block (of cheese), D Man loves pizza, so this is an awesome recipe to do with your kids. It’s easy for them to be involved and not create too much havoc.

For the best dough, you need a good strong gluten filled dough, as the gluten is what gives it the brilliant elasticity needed to fling that pizza dough like a real pizza man, but in light of the wheat reduction around these here parts, today I’ve use half wholemeal spelt, and half gluten-free flours.

It didn’t get the stretch, but I rolled it out, and it crisped nicely…. no complaints from the two pizza connoisseurs anyway!

This recipe will make four pizzas.

What you will need :

  • 1 cup lukewarm water
  • 2 teaspoons dry yeast
  • 1 ¼ teaspoons sugar
  • 1 ½ tablespoons olive oil, plus extra, for greasing
  • 4 cups flour, plus extra, for dusting. I used 2 gluten-free, 2 wholemeal spelt, but I reckon plain i
  • 1 ¼ teaspoons salt
  • tomato paste
  • garlic
  • basil and oregano, dried and/or fresh
  • your favorite pizza toppings

What you will need to do :

Mix the lukewarm water, yeast and sugar together in a small bowl until combined, then leave in a warm place for 5 minutes or until frothy. Stir in your olive oil.

Pop your flour and salt together into a large bowl and whisk it to remove any lumps because we’re too lazy to sift.

Pour the yeast mixture over the flour and use your hands to bring the mixture together to form a dough. Turn the dough out onto your clean counter and use the heel of your hands to work the dough for 5 minutes until it is smooth and elastic. Gluten free flours do not become elastic, so don’t panic if you’re trying a reduced gluten dough.

Lightly grease the inside of a clean dry bowl with oil and place the dough inside. Chuck a tea towel over the dough and leave in a warm place to prove for 45-60 minutes.

Normal flour will double in size, but wholemeal spelt, or GF only rises a little.

Dust a clean work surface lightly with the extra flour and tip out the dough. Give it a couple of hits to knock back any air, and roll into a nice ball, then cut into quarters. Roll each quarter into a ball and then work it into your desired shaped.

I used rectangular baking trays instead of the traditional round, just because it’s what I have. D Man preparing his own pizzaPlace the dough balls on a lightly greased baking tray, cover and leave in a warm place to prove for 15 minutes, while your prepare your toppings.

I squirt a wad of tomato paste on the dough, and throw my crushed garlic on top and then sprinkle dried herbs. That way, when I smear it all over the pizza it all combines.

Then I do a modest sprinkle of cheese for myself and D Man, whilst Mister H likes it a bit cheesier. The thing about making them at home is you can create them exactly how you like them.

Perfect for a control freak pizza connoisseur. C’est moi.

perfect homemade pizza Some topping suggestions are -

  • thinly sliced potato, rosemary and Italian sausage
  • roast capsicum, olive, pepperoni, sliced tomato and fresh rocket on top
  • pumpkin, fetta, bacon and spinach
  • Super Supreme – The Lot!

Chuck into a preheated 200C oven and cook for about 25 minutes, until browned and crisp.

Cut into pieces, and allow to cool for a minute so as not to burn the knobbly bit behind your teeth as you bite.

D Man eating pizza

Hooking it up with Jess because I blog on Tuesdays…. Hiya, L’il J.

Mrs H talks Jesus’ secret wife with author Sahra Renata.

17 May

author Sahra RenataWhen the opportunity arose for me to have a chat with the English born author who recently finished penning her controversial new book, The Book of Sahra, Jesus’ Secret Wife, I jumped at the chance.
I’m loving my new interview series, and Rev. Dr. Sahra Renata’s book sounds fascinating.

I do not identify with one particular religion, but regardless of your religious leanings, there is no denying that there was once a man named Jesus. This man did not claim to be the son of God, born through immaculate conception, who walked on water and performed miracles like magic tricks and dazzled people into following him, as the Bible would have us believe.

This man was an amazing public speaker, who preached of love and forgiveness in a time of great uncertainty. It was a time when Palestine had been invaded by the Romans, and life was harsh. You could be killed or tortured for a variety of misdemeaners and a simple toothache could spell your demise.

People followed Jesus because he made them feel safe and loved. His inner light helped them transform their own energy.

Jesus was a revolutionary. A leader.

Both the Romans and the Jews disliked him because he went against the grain. He was a threat to the hierarchy and he wasn’t afraid of the establishment. He taught freely that forgiveness and love were stronger than fear and greed.

I think I can relate to a dude like that.

Rev. Dr. Sahra Renata has written a book that goes against everything that the Catholic Church has taught for years, that Christ was a single man. She is even going against New Age believers that Jesus Christ was actually married to Mary Magdalene.

For centuries there has been speculation that Jesus and Magdelene were married and had children, thereby creating a lineage that still exists to this very day. There is many supportive writings on this matter with books such as The Holy Blood and the Holy Grail, and even the Da Vinci Code. Although both books are actually classified as works of fiction, they are based greatly on historical hypothesis.
In fact, Dan Brown freely admits he just chose 3 controversial and media-grabbing historical topics that would make a good thriller and put them together.

It begs the question -

What if Jesus, the dude, did have a brood?

Now, Sahra has come forward with a new book that claims that Mary Magdalene actually had a twin sister, also named Sahra. She says that Sahra and Jesus wed in secret, and her sister, Mary Magdelene, was a High Priestess who worked by Jesus’ side in his mission. She created a red herring to allow Sahra and Jesus’ children anonymity because they were all smart enough to know that their children would be in grave danger.

This tale has more duplicity and deceit than an episode of The Bold and The Beautiful and I was fascinated to hear it’s author tell how she believes that Jesus’ secret wife was actually publically married to King Herod. I bet if Herod knew that he would have been even crankier with Jesus (understatement of the centuries).

Holy schnauzer…. she was married to two dudes? Who were enemies? And one supposedly killed the other before he rose again?
What the???
The bible is unbelievable at the best of times, but this is incredibly juicy.
I am fascinated by the possibility that this is the truth. It’s like rewriting the ancient history books.

Could it be the biggest cover up that ever was?

I was intrigued to know where this new mind-blowing information came from. How did Sahra Renata come across this knowledge? Has she got access to the Vatican’s secret archives or discovered hidden texts, I asked?

No.

This information came to her in a much more profound way.

Ten years ago, I was given three months to live. I discharged myself from hospital, because I knew that it was between myself and God. One night, I thought I was dying. I made arrangements for my son because I thought I may not see the morning. I prepared every way I could to live, but I surrendered to the possibility of going that night.

She told me she thought this night was the end.

How terrifying.

She describes that night as ‘dancing with death’. As she was flitting in and out of consciousness, she felt herself traveling to another plain. On this plain, a man came to her side and comforted her.
That man was Jesus.

He filled me with light, she explained.

Doesn’t that sound incredible?

It was not her time that night, but something had opened up inside her, and over the next ten years Jesus came to her many times, guiding her back through time and he has shown her his story. Rev. Dr. Sahra believes she has resurrected ancient truths by putting it all together.

So, you write the story as it comes into your head?, I asked her.

The story doesn’t just come to me in words written on a page. I experience the sensations as though it is a movie, and I am one of the characters. I live it. It takes a massive toll on my body and I have even been admitted to hospital after receiving the most important parts of this book. 

That’s pretty kooky, huh? I mean, K.O.O.K.Y.

That said, I was struck by how un-airy fairy Sahra was. She is an articulate, incredibly intelligent and attractive lady in her mid-50′s and she was not at all weird or flaky. She is trained in psychotherapy, is an ordained minister, has an M.A. in Spiritual Philosophy and a Ph.D in metaphysics. Pretty serious credentials by anyone’s standards…

I believe in psychics, and I believe you can communicate with the other side. I believe celestial beings – angels – and ghosts communicate with us all the time. A song on the radio with a lyric that speaks to you, or some little sign that we are part of a greater thing…. so why not Jesus?

He’s just another dude, right?

Still, it’s pretty wild.

I ask if she ever questioned her sanity?

I used to wonder if I was just making it all up. The story was revealed to me very slowly, in pieces, and as it took shape I realised that this was actually my divine heritage. This is my job in this world.

Do you think you are blessed, or cursed?

Both, she laughed.

This is not the first time someone claims to have received information in this divine manner. The Conversations With God series, by Neale Donald Walsh, have been international best-sellers, and for good reason.
His words came ‘through’ him and onto the page.
Regardless of how his books came to be on the page the message in them is uplifting. They tell of a loving God and an open minded God who gave us free will, rather than a fire and brimstone Lord who damns people to hell for masturbating or fornicating.

I think the biggest thing that The Book of Sahra, Jesus’ Secret Wife and Conversations with God both have in common, is the very fact that if you can simply suspend your disbelief for long enough to read the story, there is much to be obtained by way of enlightening messages held in the text.

The Book of Sahra is a love story. It is one woman’s sacred journey and it is an allegory for all humans’ spiritual journey. There is a great underlying message contained within the pages that teaches us to live our lives as our divine selves.

It is right. Go forward.
Leave behind your old fears.
They are no longer your friend.
They have served you well but it is time now to dry your
tears and lift your heart’s eye to the stars, for what is long
written there will soon come to pass, and your part in the
unfolding of the story of the universe will rise with the
new dawn.
 Book of Sahra , Jesus' secret wife

If you would like more information on this book, you can find the website here, and Facebook page here. If you want to purchase a copy, you can get hardcopy on Amazon, or ebook on Kindle, now.

Flogging my blog on Friday @ With Some Grace.

 
 

A wedding cake birthday cake…. Pistachio and Rosewater Cake with White Choc Ganache

12 May pistachio and rosewater cake with white chocolate ganache

ingredients for pistachio and rosewater cakeA few years ago I discovered a cupcake that captured every one of my senses and made my cake jackpot lights and bells go nuts.

I’m not a generally store-bought cupcake kinda gal but when I walked past a sign saying pistachio and rosewater cupcake, I knew one of those puppies had my name all over it.

When it came time to organise my wedding cake I knew this baby was it. The problem was I was getting married 2500 kms away from this shop. I explained my plight, thinking maybe they’d take pity on me and allow their recipe to wing its way to my cake maker in Port Douglas, QLD… alas, they merely shook their heads and said forget about it.

 

Bastards.

They also said that this cake would never withstand being larger than a cupcake as the mixture would cave in.

Dastardly bastards. They may as well have challenged me to a sword fight at dusk.

I went to my guru of cake. I described this cake to her with words like delicate, exotic and exquisite. She had never heard of such flavours in a cake.

There was only one thing for it. Express Post.

pistachio and rosewater cake with white chocolate ganache

From the second she received the slightly sweaty, partly mooshed, icing smeared flying cupcake, she was onboard the adventure. She was dissecting it on her tongue, trying to recreate the texture and flavour. She did all that and more. She not only matched the delicate flavours, but she made it better… and then smothered it in white chocolate ganache.

Boom.

I didn’t throw a kids party for Kiki’s first birthday. I threw a late lunch feast for a few dear ones who love her to pieces. I thought this was the perfect opportunity to recreate our wedding cake. Maybe it’s a little bit weird, but I’ve actually been dying for an excuse to make it.

The beauty of it is it’s possibly the easiest cake ever. You make it in a food processor. No creaming, no sifting, no nuffing. You chuck everything in, and whizz.

Sha-wing!!

Note : This is to make one 8 inch round cake…. oh, and this batter is so freakin’ yummy, it’s addictive.

pistachio and rosewater cake with white chocolate ganache

What you will need :

For the cake - 

  • 150g shelled pistachios
  • 150g self-raising flour
  • 1/2 teaspoon ground cardamom
  • 200g castor sugar
  • 200g softened butter
  • 3 medium eggs
  • 1 teaspoon baking powder
  • 2 tablespoons milk
  • 2 tablespoons rosewater

For the ganache - 

  • 120g white chocolate, plus a few pieces for garnish
  • 60 ml cream
  • a small handful of pistachios, chopped, for garnish

Preheat oven to 160C. Grease and line a baking tin.

Very finely grind your nuts in a food processor.
Chuck in your flour, cardamom and sugar and blend to combine. Add the rest of the ingredients and blend until smooth.

Tip into your tin and bake for 55 minutes, or until a skewer comes out clean. Leave to cool in the tin for an hour before turning out (although apparently it’s also divine warm with cream)

Chuck your chocolate and cream into a saucepan and melt together. Leave to cool for a good few minutes before you spoon on. Spoon into the middle and gently push it towards the edge until it runs down the side.

I then melted my remaining few pieces of chocolate and smeared in onto baking paper before rolling it and setting it in the fridge. When you unfurl it you have curls and cool pieces for garnish. Chuck it on with some pistachios and you have yourself a cake that’s fit for a wedding… or a first birthday.

rosewater pistachio birthday cake

 

 

 

 

our-growing-edge-bannerHooking up with Our Growing Edge. This month’s host is Sonya, at And More Food.
Go see who’s tending their growing edge this month!

An Enduring Love Story…

10 May an enduring love story

Two days before I was due to photograph the 50th wedding anniversary vow renewal of this  Groom and his Bride, I was invited into their home so we could get acquainted before the big day.

In this old school Italian family’s home, I sat at the table with the happy couple and some dear old friends of theirs who had been married for 43 years.

This here marriage novice had the most insightful discussion with these nuptial heavy weights on the secret to longevity in a union. We ate cheese and figs and drank wine and in no time I felt like I was part of the family, and it was beautiful.

The big day was touched gently by sadness, as it also marked the end of a mourning period after the loss of a dear one, but I truly believe I saw many generations of this family present, those with us and those passed, all celebrating 50 years of amore and famiglia.

LOVE & FAMILY

What else is important?

Nothing.

I’m honoured to have been able to chronicle the day, and capture just a few of the precious moments that this family had.

The biggest thing I’ll take away with me from this experience were the words of the Groom, the evening we met.

‘In life, in the home, there will be storms, but soon, the sun… she come out.’

Sage advice for a novice.

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an enduring love story an enduring love story

an enduring love story

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an enduring love story

an enduring love story

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an enduring love story

an enduring love storyan enduring love storyan enduring love storyan enduring love storyan enduring love storyan enduring love storyan enduring love storyan enduring love storyan enduring love storyan enduring love storyan enduring love storyan enduring love storyan enduring love story

an enduring love storyan enduring love storyan enduring love storyan enduring love story

an enduring love story an enduring love storyan enduring love storyan enduring love story

an enduring love storyan enduring love storyan enduring love story

an enduring love story

an enduring love story

an enduring love storyan enduring love story

an enduring love story

an enduring love story

an enduring love storyan enduring love storyan enduring love story

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enduring love story

an enduring love storyan enduring love storyA love storyan enduring love storyan enduring love storyan enduring love story

an enduring love storyan enduring love storyan enduring love story

 

1

7 May

Kiki turns 1 364 days.

Tomorrow, will be 365, and then you are one.

I can’t believe it. Although I clearly remember the second you were born, it feels like you’ve been here all along, or maybe you’ve just always been with me in one form or another.

You’ve had a couple of colds, you’ve got a couple of teeth, you’ve taken a couple of assisted steps. In many ways, on the grand scheme of babies, you are unremarkable, but that’s only  if you’re not looking properly.

Your great grandmother, Grand Nana, wrote you a letter saying how sometimes you just know that a child is an angel straight from heaven. It sounds a little schmaltzy, but Kiki, you have a light inside you. Such a tiny person, with such a big, shining light.

You just smile at everyone and they can’t help but love you. Your flashing dimples are like a prize that you give freely.

You’ve been known to throw yourself at people for a cuddle. Sometimes you know them, sometimes you don’t. You choose them, though, and make their day.

You’re fierce, too. You defend yourself well against your big brother and I can see you’re fiery. I like that in a girl, although I’m sure by the time you’re 13 I’ll reconsider that sentence, when you’re giving me a run for my money.

My darling, at 12 months you’re trying to walk and trying to talk, and trying to be like your big brother. You love food, often squawking like a gremlin if someone has something and hasn’t offered you any. You’ll put your head down, and determinedly crawl, with the force of a wombat, over to claim some nosh. You don’t care that you only have two bottom teeth. You’ll try anything. Your Papa jokes that the only time you cry is between dinner and dessert.

You have the most amazingly soft skin, and you love to crawl naked on the couch. Up and down. Up and down. Must feel liberating or something because you don’t do it as much with your kit on. I love to cuddle you before bath time. I take your clothes off and just run my hands over your back and arms as you sit on my lap. The feel of you is intoxicating, and fills me with great, big, crazy love.

You have a husky laugh. Sometimes it surprises me because you laugh at the strangest things. I guess you get that from me. One day you, too, will be the only person laughing loudly at the cinema. It’s good to see humor where others don’t. Life is funny at inopportune moments.

kiki turns 1 You’re a very cuddly baby, and when you rest your little head into the crook of my neck, something inside me just melts. These days are going by so fast, and soon you’ll be a toddler, a child, a teen, and then grown. Sometimes it just flashes before me, and I want to hold you tight, envelope you into me and just keep you almost 1.

But then I’d miss all the fun we’re going to have. The learning about each other, and the discussions about life and the fights about freedom, and how much I don’t understand you because I could never possibly have felt like you and all of the crazy stuff that happens before you set off on your own.

I’ll just take a mental snap shot of this moment. I’ll take a gazillion photos, and write a few thousand words so I remember this year.
This has unarguably been one of the hardest years of my life to date, little one. For various reasons.

But let me assure you, that far outweighing the difficulties, this has also been the best year of my life, because you came to complete our family, and in many ways, you completed my heart.

Happy first birthday, Miss Kiki Wiggles. You are truly delicious.

kiki ah 3

Hooking up with Team Ibot over with EssentiallyJess, who is also pretty delicious, coincidently.

Organisational Skills and other things that fail me…

3 May

need to buy a diary

So, I was invited to join this new weekly linky called ‘The Lounge’, right?

It’s hosted by 5 pretty happening bloggers so when I received a personal invite from the Very Inappropriate Rachel (swears like it’s an art form), it felt like I was being invited to morning tea with the cool kids.

This week’s subject was ‘Things I thought I’d be better at’, and seeing as I’m shit at loads of stuff, I thought this post would write itself. I’ve been mulling it over.

I suppose I thought I’d be better at taking criticism, constructive or otherwise. I’m not too bad taking it from a stranger, but if I’m married to you? Forget it.

I could write about my foot and hand hygiene. I thought by now I would be better at washing hands before meals, not biting the skin on my fingers or filing back the rough rhinoceros dermis on my hooves.

A rhino's interpretation of my feet.

A rhino’s interpretation of my feet.

I could write about tact and how I thought by 36 years of age I would have mastered the art of tact. I’m shithouse at tact. Even when I think I’m being delicate, I come across as subtle as a punch in the face. It’s part of my charm, or so I keep telling myself.

I definitely thought I’d be better at grammar. I recently wrote in an email to someone ‘you know you’re shit’ and created all manner of awkward confusion. The apostrophe catastrophe will go down in the annuls.

I thought I’d be awesome at deciphering my baby’s cries by now. I’m still fumbling around in the dark (metaphorically), as I fumble around in the dark (literally) and I’ve been doing this in one form or another for three years.Is she hot? Cold? In pain? Or just stubbornly not wanting to give up the last pre-dawn feed?

But if you really want to know what I thought I’d be better at……

Time keeping.

Not time as in I can’t tell the time. Or even punctuality. I’m very punctual.

Time, as in, writing stuff in a calendar. Keeping track of dates.

I imagine my brain is akin to iCal and the steel trap will not let me down, but time and again, I simply forget shit. Appointments, play dates, birthdays… You name it, and I’ll thank you, because I’ve forgotten it.

I should, at the very least, write down birthdays. It’s not that I don’t care, it’s just that I think I’ll remember, and then….. well, it’s not my birthday, so I don’t care.

I have one girlfriend who’s birthday I never wrote down but by some sheer act of God, I called her three years in a row, randomly, on her birthday. Sadly, I never mentioned the words Happy, or Birthday, but I think I got away with it just for sheer arsey flukey-ness. I missed it this year, however.
Should have jotted it somewhere as it seems my connection with the Universal Birthday Calendar has been severed.

I’m a shocker for the double book. Considering I really don’t have much of a life, I’m forever finding that I’ve told two or even three separate people that I’ll do something, or hang out, and it’s all one big cluster frock…..or whatever the expression is.

It doesn’t make me look popular, it make me look like a dick.

The other side of that coin is setting a date and it simply slips my mind.

So, back to the link for The Lounge…… I knew it was opening May the 2nd, and I was ruminating and contemplating and I was thinking that this ought to be my subject matter, this lack of diarising.

I truly thought, that by almost 40, I would be  miraculously organised. I would keep a diary, or use ical (Lord knows I’m on my phone AND computer enough) and not be as unorganised as a teenager. I used to be a producer, FFS! My entire life was schedules, dates and diaries…..but to be fair, I was pretty shit at it then too.

I was better at the long lunch or wrap party part of my job. In fact,for a control freak, I’m quite the oxymoron.

Then, I looked at the date, and blow me down, it was May the 2nd yesterday and I hadn’t written a single word…and I ruminated and contemplated myself a late post……oh, the sweet, sweet irony.

It’s official. I’m going to do diary….

Would you recommend a paper diary or cyber diary?

What did you think you’d be better at by now?

Check out what other people haven’t got the knack of yet over at Misguided Musings, and hooking up with the floggers at With Some Grace.

Is the Circus Un-PC?

30 Apr
Disclaimer - Not a real circus elephant....this one's a famous actress.

Disclaimer – Not a real circus elephant….this one’s a famous actress.

As a little girl I really loved the circus.

Not Cirque Du Fancy Pants, Grande Chapiteau type circus, but the real McCoy, Big Top, lions and clowns and folk that date their cousins type circus.

When one was in town a while ago, a little flame of excitement sprang into my belly and I thought ‘cooooooooool’.

I imagined awesome photos for a photo blog, and having a cracking family day out with the colourful, carnival folk. I envisaged myself and D Man sitting there, breathing sighs of awe and wonder at the trapeze, tonguing fairy floss straight from the stick that leaves splinters in your tongue, and squealing with delight at the dancing horses (well, at least, that’s what I would be doing, he’d probably be picking his nose and eating it, or flicking popcorn into the hair of the lady in front)…..but when I mentioned it to a friend they said  ’no way, I don’t give my money to them. They have animals.’

Dancing horses are bad? I guess they are, aren’t they. With their spangly head dresses and scantily clad girls riding them.

Now, I’ll admit that I did think it was illegal to have lions and tigers and bears (oh, my) these days but they make the whole circus idea also got a bit more exciting. D Man LOVES lions and tigers………. now it was suuuuuuuuuuuuper cooooooooool.

Then I felt bad for not being more PC, and animal activist-esque. Is the circus no longer the done thing?

Oh no!! I love the circus. Those ponies are so clever.

Speaking of clever ponies… What about equestrian riding?

I’m sure that some of my readers would be pony lovers, so is equestrian ok? What’s the diff?

Jodhpurs and sensible headwear versus spangled g-strings and tiaras?

Miranda Kerr - splitting the difference.

Miranda Kerr – splitting the difference.

Is it bad that I want my kids to experience the wonder and magic of the Big Top… To smell the saw dust and see the Ring Master call in the clowns.
sexy ringmaster
Obviously, I don’t support emaciated bears or moth eaten lions, but I imagine if the animal is already a circus animal, it can’t be released into the National Park.

Wouldn’t the RSPCA be all over circus’, with their seriously strict codes of practice?

I guess by supporting them it encourages the practice to continue.

The ad for Stardust Circus (it even sounds like magic, doesn’t it?) says that the animals are treated like part of the family, so maybe they’re really loved. Maybe the lions are invited to Sunday roast and the monkeys all get pissed and give each other wedgies, just like real families do.

I’ve been going through the whole thing in my head. If the circus is no longer a PC past time, what about the zoo? Is the zoo out too?

I friggen’ love the zoo.

Does it depend on the level of accuracy in the enclosure – how alike their natural habitat it is, or are they all out?
I get that a flea bitten mangy lion is not a lion in his prime, more than that, it is a crime against nature, but if they are well looked after, does that make a difference?

We went to Mogo Zoo down on the South Coast. It was a small zoo, specialising in endangered species rehabilitation. They had bred some of these endangered species in captivity, thereby propagating the species. That’s a good thing, right?

As long as the animal is endangered, and in a breeding program it’s ok?

Just to recap, as long as it’s endangered,  it didn’t arrive in the country smuggled in a tube up someone’s butt (bird and reptiles, not big game), and is willing to procreate, we’re good to go.

It’s seems like there’s a hell of a lot of grey area here, no?

Anyway, I’m on the fence.

As a child, I loved the circus, as an adult, I get that it’s unethical.

Bloody hell, I hate being an adult sometimes.

What are your thoughts?

Would you go to the circus?

Blogging on Tuesday with my fellow iboters over at EssentiallyJess.

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