Author: bone&silver

#ActforPeace #rationchallenge #refugeerations #sponsorme

‘I want to eat my lawn’: craving greens on a week-long ration challenge

I’m heading into Day 5, and after this week of eating the same food as a Syrian refugee, will be avoiding rice for at least the next 3 months. Day 3 was hard: I felt really foggy in my brain, and almost angry that I was making myself do this. Thank goodness that passed. Today has been better, apart from fighting my ridiculous urge to eat anything green, including grass. On Facebook, other Ration-Challengers have been moaning about no caffeine, sugar, or alcohol; I’m just having serious fantasies about superfood green smoothies, bunches of fresh spinach, and steamed broccoli heads with olive oil and cracked pepper.I made falafel-type patties for lunch & dinner: remember I only have salt, flour, veg oil, one spice (cumin), no garlic, no onion. But oh boy, they still tasted delicious!   If you feel like helping me reach the final fundraising target of $1500 (I’m on almost $1300), here is my Donation Page link. And thank you so much. Or please send parsley and kale, express post… 😉 In utter gratitude …

America, where’s your goddamn empathy?

I cannot believe I’m watching footage of crying children in ‘cages’, and reading comments that say their parents shouldn’t have broken the law anyway. What the f*** is happening over there? I’m hungry as hell here in Australia, brain a bit foggy on Day 3 of Refugee rations challenge, and today is World Refugee Day. I’ve raised over $1200 through my donations page HERE, and am therefore helping to feed 3 Syrian refugees for a year. That feels amazing, and thank you to my fellow bloggers, including The Lockwood Echo. But you Americans? You need to donate to an organisation in your own country, helping out these traumatised kids. Here’s Brené Brown’s endorsed link, and this recommendation from my journalist sister-in-law in New York. Take action. Spend twenty bucks on someone else, not yourself. Spend fifty. Send only two. But please DO SOMETHING!  

Day 1 of Refugee rations challenge done. And Pay Pal makes it easier

I missed my morning pot of tea, it’s true. But I’m less than $20 off raising $1000 so far for refugees, so I’m confident I won’t be starting every post of this week on rations complaining about my lack of favourite hot beverage! There’s my cup of hot water first thing though, still so sleepy it couldn’t quite get itself into focus for the photo 😉 We’re having incredible winter weather here in Australia: bright blue clear skies, warm sun, but still a cool nip to the skin in the shade- believe me, it’s a divine treat after all the humidity and wetness of our summer months- sipping my water on the verandah still felt full of privilege. So onto breakfast: a portion of my rice allowance, with a sprinkling of pre-soaked then boiled chickpeas. I only added salt. I’ve decided to start quite plain and strict, then ease myself into more tasty meals as the week progresses, and I get more uncomfortable/hungry/hangry. A big thank you to the 3 Anonymous donors, in case you …

How do you start your morning- tea or coffee? Well, neither if you’re a refugee

My official Refugee Rations box arrived for the Ration Challenge, and it feels weird to know I’m getting to ‘play’ at such a serious situation for only a week- the privilege mocks me. Thanks to lovely friends and my network, I’ve raised almost $900 so far, which feels awesome; having reached various ‘fundraising targets’, I’ve ‘earnt’ myself 50g of salt (instead of sugar), some milk, a spice (I’m choosing cumin), and now a small head of broccoli (170g) plus yesterday an egg! Very exciting. These rewards don’t come out of the fundraising donations of course; it just means I am able to include them in my refugee diet. It works on the honour system, and it’s a lovely feeling to know that all over Australia, thousands of us are doing this together to raise awareness and take action in support of our vulnerable brothers and sisters around the world. I’m about $100 off being ‘allowed’ 2 teabags, and if there’s one thing I love it’s my pot of peppermint tea in the morning… PLEASE donate …

Tri This: One Year!!!

Originally posted on Curious Steph:
One year ago today, I began my triathlon training adventure. I had been inspired by a report in my local newspaper about a sprint/mini-sprint race held at a rec center the previous weekend. I looked at the distances involved and thought “I can do that”. More importantly, I wanted to do that. Starting out, my goal was to do a sprint distance race about a year from when I began. I’m on track, with that race scheduled for a week from Saturday. I’ve done two mini sprint races in the interim, one last August, and an indoor time rather than distance based race in January. As I’ve mentioned before, this upcoming race is a leap both in terms of distance covered and the swim is open water, in a reservoir. Open water adds some challenges; a more congested group start, staying on course without that black line on the bottom of the pool, and wearing a wetsuit, which will need to be removed before starting on the bike leg of…

My ‘Refugee rations’ box has arrived, & I’m a bit scared

Next week, June 17-24, I’m going to be hungry and grumpy. How do I know already? Because I will be trying to survive on official refugee rations for that one week. Right now, there are more than 65.5 million refugees and displaced persons around the world, according to the UN Refugee Agency. This means elderly people who’ve lost their lifelong homes, sick or injured people with no access to medical care, loving families crammed into thin tents in cold winters, and of course children with no option to go to school. I live a wonderfully privileged life here in Australia, with fresh water in my kitchen, organic produce at the Farmers Markets every week, and sleeping safely in my bed each night. But if I’d been born in Syria, I would have a different story. Right now, I could be living in a tent with my son, with minimal prospects for employment or education, and trying to feed ourselves with only the official weekly refugee rations: 420g white rice 170g lentils 85g dried chick peas …

When you decide on the perfect gift for your 18-year old son, but then…

What would you buy a teenager reaching such a milestone birthday? The challenge threw me for days, until inspiration suddenly struck at 3am (thanks menopause): Mum’s ring! Well, it’s my ring actually, which Mum passed on to me many years ago, that I treasure. My Dad gave it to her on their honeymoon in Mexico, and although it’s a simple design, I love it, loaded with sentiment and meaning as it is now. The stick figure is roughly carved, and apparently represents the legend of a Girl holding a Rainbow- perfect for me. My son ’17’ often picks it up when I’ve left it lying around on the shelf after washing dishes for example, and has made frequent comments about how well it fits him, and how good it looks on him (as teenagers are wont to do). But I always refuse to lend it to him, and have remained strict about that, despite his cute cajoling (as teenagers are wont to do). Imagine if he lost it? Then 3am inspiration arrived: why not get …

Teenage Tuesday: The last one ever with ’17’

This son of mine is funny, strong-minded, sensitive, and kind. He can also be messy, selfish, a bit lazy, and quite stubborn; a fairly normal teenager. We’ve had a good time with him here, haven’t we, laughing at his contributions to bone&silver? But it’s all going to change on the weekend. For this was me, a lifetime ago, standing on the edge of changes I had zero idea about, despite the weekly pregnancy group meetings, and various well-thumbed books. I went past my due date by more than two weeks, which stressed out both my midwives, but then I had my baby at home on the back verandah as planned, with no interventions or pain relief. As long as I was up and walking, labour wasn’t too painful… just long. Very long. Long as in “Started-On-Wednesday-Morning-Came-Out-Friday-Morning-Long”. Anyway, I made it. We made it. Born at 5am, on a clear frosty Winter’s morning, after his Mum had walked round and round the garden wrapped in a quilt for hours. And now this weekend, he’s passing from …

Two comets dancing

I’m sitting here smiling with the cat at that post title. The attraction dance continues, slowly turning as we tangle in each other’s tails, sparks flying off the edges. [Not me and the cat; me and her.] Thank you so much to everyone who took the time to comment with advice on my last post, it was super helpful. A couple of real life friends kinda told me off for being too personal, and asked me if I was being a self-indulgent narcissist? *gulp. I don’t think so. I was reaching out for support and wisdoms which I didn’t feel I had to give myself, and the call was answered by my awesome blogging buddies. It was a personal post, but that’s the point round here. I’m trying to respond honestly to whatever’s going on, and use it as a stimulus for writing/creativity/art/connection- sometimes it’s ’17’, sometimes it’s politics, and sometimes it’s sex/love. So be it. And as I pointed out to my [wonderfully loving] yet challenging friends: if my post helped ONE person with …

When a comet shoots by, but it’s probably just your Attachment system getting rattled

Time for a dating update folks: I met someone in real life. Well, I noticed her at a dance party about a year ago, but being a loyal partner to my ex, I just ignored her… Then 6 months ago, a very good mutual friend actually introduced us properly, and I couldn’t stop myself from thinking ‘Oh you are so cute’, but being a loyal partner to my ex, I just ignored me… Until 2 weeks ago, when on another funky dance floor in my killer blue jumpsuit over my freshly-healed heart, I found myself facing her, and just couldn’t ignore her for one more second. We danced. We smiled. We yelled in each others’ ears. We flirted, then drifted away and back together a few times (I got on that dance floor at 5pm when I arrived, and barely left till the party closed at 11.30pm) before I finally asked her if she had a girlfriend (my middle name is clearly ‘Direct’). When she said no, I may or may not have seen a small firework …