Bacon. Work trip. Periods. The Spill. Also, bacon.

Good day to you Loungers. Welcome. I hope you are all well.  Feel free to rest your politics-weary bones on our comfy couches, and pour yourself a snifter of scotch. You know Julia would.

Today we are freestyling it! Sort of. Link up any post you like! AS LONG AS IT HAS THE MAGICAL KEYWORD OF MAGIC IN IT.

Today's keyword is: BACON.

I will also accept FACON. For the vege-matarians out there.


I have been busily busying it up working mother style recently so it's all been quiet on the blog front. I had a trip out to Dalby for work which was alternately interesting, freezing, boring, exhausting, aggravating, titillating, confusing, and weird.


Anyway I got to wear a hard hat, steel capped boots and a high vis vest so ALL WAS NOT IN VAIN.


Here's some scenery.

Here I am in my glad rags taking selfies in my motel room before dinner.

Here are my steel capped boots.

Here is my vest and helmet. And slightly crazed expression.

I had been quite looking forward to the trip because, well, you know, KIDS and STRESS and NIGHT AWAY. And yeah, I'm not going to lie to you, that was pretty good. I missed the little blighters though, what with P's recent health dramas I felt a bit nervy about it all. Also I am still breastfeeding Baby B. Who, frankly, is fast becoming Toddler B. So I was worried about my boobs.  Also (and look I don't mean to be CRUDE or INDISCREET or whatever but look we're all girls here. Actually no we aren't. I do apologise.) but I also had, um, rather a HEAVY MENSTRUAL FLOW GOING ON.

So what with my exploding boobs and the traipsing around in the bush with limited access to the loo I WAS A BIT ANXIOUS.  If I could devise a hashtag for my experience of the trip it would be #shitmendonothavetoworryabout

Still I managed with a smile on my face and a spring in my steel capped boots. Because I am a PROFESSIONAL.

In an unrelated segway, it would be remiss of me not to mention the ole Spill tonight.  For the international punters, the Australian Labor Party chucked over the PM Julia Gillard for Evil Machiavellian Genius Kevin Rudd tonight. What a palava. High emotion, people.

It's hard to express my feelings in words, but in an attempt to do just that I have chosen the format of an acrostic poem. Using the word bacon. SEE WHAT I DID THERE?

Bon voyage Julia, our first female Prime Minister
Although her time with us is done because of men most sinister
Convoys of cleavage, misogyny speeches, all of these things couldn't rattle her
Often she was criticized by shock jocks like Howard Sattler
Now Rudd is back. Don't eff it up Kev, or Bill Shorten will have you killed.

(OK that doesn't rhyme but you all know it's true).

Over to you, bacon lovers. I can smell the crackling from here.