I've made peace in recent years with several of the disturbingly-pretty geraniums in my cranium; including the one where if I'm gonna do something then I no good reason not to completely overdo it.

I put up my hand to be in charge of the present lists and the mind-numbing tedium of running the Kris Kringle for the family this year.  I got bored just thinking about requesting and editing and sending on email lists to people.  Don't I act as an information clearing-house every work day EVER anyway? And we all found ways around the one-present-and-that's-it rule. (I gave up when I opened the second present "from Santa" last year - my mother just cannot help herself and seems unable to believe that I recognise her writing even when the gift tag is from someone mythical.)

I threw 'the rules' against a wall with a very satisfying splat, decided it was a free-for-all (with a nod to the World Financial Fuckupedness along the lines of  "remember to gift responsibly this Christmas - don't get tiddly and get online with an unprotected credit card") and then started thinking about how to post lists.  Heh - post.  I should do...a..Christmas...blog.....

Holy steaming reindeer crap Batman - now all I need is some way to engage the family members so they play along instead of scowling and whining.  My family see me as "the creative one" - ridiculous when you consider the talents they all have - but I also have "the off-the-wall one" in my arsenal of Family Roles.  Clearly there was nothing for it but to create an online persona.

And thus SECRET SQUIRREL SANTA sprang fully-formed from my brain.  SSS (as he/she/it shall henceforth be known) has never explicitly stated that they are one of Santa's special helpers, but all four of my nieces glommed onto this in about 0.1 seconds, and have entered into it with great gusto. 

Bless 'em, they have also evinced exactly NO surprise that SSS has their own blog and their own gmail account.  hee hee hee. 

I've been getting lists the last few days and my absolute favourite has to be my youngest niece, Miss Georgina, who is four and a bit.  MG (as we call her) has asked for the following and it is such an adorable list that I had to share.

So if you are a four year old girlie, here is your perfect Christmas:

• Hula-hoop
• Rose/lavender soap & powder
• Craft stuff – sticky tape, pipe cleaners, cardboard, kits, beads etc
• Sparkly shoes (loves gold shoes)
• Toy guitar or saxophone
• Bubble mixture
• Rainbow Magic Fairy Books (easiest)
• Puzzles (24+ pieces)
• Night dress
• Bananas (the lollies, not the fruit)

Mark (xb95) posted that he was coming to Australia.

The following rose up unbidden from my brain this morning in my hungover state and I left it as a comment. But reading it over after someone said "heh - and so true!" I thought "ah - content I don't have to drag from my sluggish brain syllable by mawkish syllable - to the posting facility Hortense!". I now present this comment without comment (except to say (a) that it is bloody hard to try and distill the national character - the first rule about being an Australian is that we really don't talk about what deep down it is to be an Australian; and (b) I need an icon for when I'm talking about the wide brown land, dangnabbit!)

*ahem*

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

I do hope you have a wonderful time also, just, if you are coming in the next few months you will need to invest in/take heed of the following:

- a large sunhat
- SPF gazillion+ sunscreen
- a resolution NOT to try and imitate the accent (it's cute the first 43,000 times, but after that, well...)
- if you drink, heeding the following warning: our beer has a higher alcoholic content, and you will find yourself on your arse in very short order
- not worrying if you hear someone calling you "...*mutter mutter* bloody septic *mutter mutter*..." (that's quite old-fashioned but it might happen, and it's fine, we're just all living in terror everyone else will figure out this is a fabulous country and try to emigrate. Ah, Australia. Come for the open source, stay for the bizarre xenophobia of one of the most multi-cultural nations on this planet)
- we insult the people we love. The ones we don't we ignore. Someone calling you a bastard is a sign of affection. Really. My brother-in-law used to call his much-beloved mum "the old bastard". (This may be a slightly extreme case in retrospect, but there it is).
- say it after me: Are-STRAYlya. Try not to move your mouth or lips. NOT "OSS-tray-liarrrrr", lingering lovingly on all the syllables.
- irony: we has it.
- if it's your shout, it's your shout.
- we loves the intarwebs because we know we're a fuck of a long way from anywhere and we worry about it and we're early-adopters from way back and it's all very mixed up and weird. But we LOVES the intarwebs and computers and what-have-you.
- there are things here that WILL try to kill you in a very cheerful, straightforward non-personal way. Spiders, bugs, jellyfish, Sydney drivers etc etc. ALWAYS check your shoes before you put them on.
- we love our food. our food is excellent. (well, in Melbourne it is. In Sydney, it's expensive too.) Try and get some exercise if you don't want to come back waaaay heavier than you left.
- to play with an Australian's brain, ask them to articulate EXACTLY what "died in the arse" means. we can only use that one in context.

Have a lovely, lovely time.

No wuckers.

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

I have no idea if this speaks to my fellow countrypersons. I DO know that I never ejaculated the phrase "stone the crows!" (and MEANT IT) until I was resident in the UK. A teddibly cultivated friend found herself calling everyone in sight "mate" when she was touristing her way across Europe.

Then there's this, which always cracks me up but is a very broad overview. VERY broad. I can almost hear John Clarke reading it in his best sardonic accent. (note to non-Austrayans: John Clarke: exceptionally funny, very very clever man with an accent that, in its purest form, could actually etch glass.)

And then of course there's this, which I will occasionally quote at bemused students,
(a) just because they are too young and tragically under-educated in the finer art of the piss-take;
(b) because if you take out the wavering accents, I swear I went to school with boys just like this - good country boys all of them and they probably went on to the University of Woollomooloo;
(c) because the brits getting it right gives me the giggles although
(d) they are drinking Fosters in the skit which no self-respecting Australian would ever allow to pass their lips because it is frankly bug piss; which therefore makes it a reverse-double-piss-take-with-a-half-pike-dismount and of course a complete classic.

Am on leave.

Ahhhh.

Of course, just spent 30 minutes going through the work email remotely and sending them to the minions with lots of "what you need to do here is" instructions.

But that's THEIR problem now.

And so I return to: ahhhhhhh.  

I may get out of bed eventually.  I am getting hungry.  Brunch down at the Maize cafe may be in my future. 

oooh - synecdochic  has posted some new Broken Wings fic! 

Then again, brunch may have to wait a little.  AU-angst FTW!

And so once again: Ahhhhhhh!

It's all on the singing website here:

But just in case you couldn't be arsed clicking and want a scrolling experience instead, here's for the rest of 2009

Sunday 25th October at 7.30pm  (THAT'S THIS SUNDAY - fire up the charabanc, Hortense!!)– Fundraising concert for the 2009 Diamond Valley Vocal Eisteddfod.

I’ve been invited to sing two arias as part of this concert, and will be singing Morro, ma prima in grazia from Verdi’s The Masked Ball; and Un Bel Di vedremo from Madama Butterfly (Puccini).

Uniting Church, Wensley Street, Diamond Creek (just across from the railway station, Diamond Creek on the Hurstbridge Line).

I won the DVVE Aria on Melbourne Cup Day 2003; my first real Aria win (and an enjoyable day’s competition – another first!).  They carefully structure the day so younger singers are encouraged, and more experienced singers get to strut their stuff – it’s a jewel of an eisteddfod and long may it continue!  This concert will have a lot of great singers, so if you’re looking for something to do on Sunday night, this is a great way to finish the weekend…..

Wednesday 25th November – private function at Trinity College for AWCUM.

Helping the members of AWCUM get into the Christmas spirit (and the Christmas lunch and the christmas champagne…)

Sunday December 20th 2009 at 7:30pm: Wodonga Carols by Candleight

Willow Park, Pearce Street, Wodonga.

This is a really fun, friendly, low-to-no-cost family event that you can share with 10,000 of your closest friends (no, really).  I’ll be opening the show with Joy to the World and Do You Hear What I Hear.  If you’re in the Border region, do come!

(And you don't miss out if you can't make it - I've re-posted my bemused musings on the 2006 experience here under the - I think - inspired title of It is better to light a glow stick than to curse the total fire ban).

AND THE 2010 stuff!

Oh.Em.Gee - I am booked twice already for next year.  Eeeeeeee!  *ahem*

Saturday June 19th 2010 at 8pm - Music Lovers Society Recital

Ewing Memorial Church, Burke Road, East Malvern

(Details and program to be confirmed in early 2010)

Sunday 2 September 2010 at 2.30pm - Lyrebird Music Society Recital – TBC

St Peter’s Eastern Hill  (Church hall)

(Program to be confirmed in early 2010)

This will be on Father’s Day, so forgo the tie, the socks, the gardening gloves, the book on cricket/history/fishing – bring your Dad along for some Kulcha (bonus No 1: he doesn’t have to find shelf-space for it; bonus No 2: there will be afternoon tea afterwards and all Dads love cake).

Or here's some linky-love to my new fave thing to play on eterna-loop on the iShuffle while I'm sweating away in the gym (the Official Music Bods Wot Own It have disabled the embedding, poo! So clickage is necessary.)

Invincible by Ok Go (they of the fabulous treadmill video from some years back).

They appear to be having far, FAR too much fun and I highly recommend it for getting your arse moving.

And what girl wouldn't swoon over a song which starts with the following lines:

When they finally come to destroy the earth, they'll have to go through you first. I bet they won't be
expecting that. When they finally come to destroy the earth, they'll have to deal with you first,and now
my money says they won't know about the thousand Fahrenheit hot metal lights behind your eyes. Invincible.

Crumbs!

Seems to be a popular song for the vidders too -

here's one for Plucky Girl Reporter Chloe Sullivan being Terribly Plucky from Smallville:



One for Castiel the Confused but Always Growly In An Adorable Way
(Not To Mention Handy in a Fight) Angel from Supernatural

For those of you who came in late:

1. I put on weight and the gym habit suffered

2. I re-dedicated myself to the effort, using the logic that as I organise 20,000 people a year I can certainly sort myself (who is just one person and one who I happen to know pretty well) out with some minimal mental application

3. It's been working!  Am about to begin week four and I've lost weight, am feeling 40,000 times fitter and stronger, and, most importantly: I have got myself into a routine at home to keep things going, as it turns out that my instinct was correct: using my powers of sorting-things-the-fuck-out for my own benefit (for once ) to establish infrastructure has made it easier for me to sustain the effort.

Or in lay-person's terms: if you make it easy, and remove all the coulda-shoulda-wouldas, then it gets done. 

Anyway, as we head into week four, I've noticed the odd little ripple of cause-and-effect around me.  It appears if you make changes, unashamedly, confining them only to yourself, neutrally discussing the challenges and changes with others, and not needing other people to say "well done you" (and despite the diva tag I get labelled with about every other day, I really don't need that much approval) then you also open up the possibility of change to the people around you

One of them is Melinda sometimes deciding she does not want cake with her morning latte.  But then, she is getting into the home routine thing herself, so I think "being a supportive friend" is her way of sneaking her own self-improvement project under the radar.

Now, I like to be able to keep count of what I've done; and because it is faster and easier to do same on Facecrack (and because one half of the Management Committee is on Facecrack) then I've been doing updates after most of my workouts and after seeing Mike the Personal Trainer.  Some of the comments have been "yay go you!" and some have been a little...conflicted. 

Anyway, this is a long-winded way of saying that one of the things arising from being dedicated and organised is thinking: what ELSE have I not been doing just because of coulda-shoulda-woulda?

Which has led to a huge decluttering of the clothes and the wardrobe. 

And now I have turned my attention to the spare room, which has always been very uninspired in terms of decor.  This is probably because it is the visible proof of my Faustian Bargain with the parental units - it cannot be changed (apparently) and nobody can move in because that room is the pied-a-terre for the family, and I pay reduced rent because of it.  So it sits and is a Spare Room.  Until last week when I decided that camping out in my own house was Not To Be Borne, and dammit, just because it is a Spare Room doesn't mean it can't be nice.  

I had Ingrid and Kindi go in and work out where to hang some pictures last week.  And while I was in Spotlight the other day I decided to upgade the bed linen (which is kind of blergy and not my thing AT ALL) and wandered around the linen section till I found a doona cover I liked, and bought it, and showed Elley and she immediately hauled out a quilt which matched and promptly gave it to me to put at the foot of the bed,  which made her feel like a decluttering queen, and me feel like it was all meant to be and made both of us feel actually pretty clever. 

So it has been washed and is ready to go on the bed, but then I was not sure about the sheet situation.  So now I have hauled all my bed linen and blankets and quilts etc into the front room to do the Big Sort through and declutter some more.  I only have one head, so there's a limit to the number of pillowcases I actually need.  I have one double and one single bed for guests.  And they have (on the whole) a limited number of heads also.  

Finally, they have been exhorting us on Flylady (this may have been a while ago actually, but what the hell) to start using the food in our fridges, freezers and cupboards before buying more, so this is my thing this week: to see how long it takes before I need to buy more stuff.  I've been more than a little annoyed at how often I have to throw out food that just sat there until it went off.

So, have just made a Leftover Sad Vegetables and Beef casserole (this will be for lunches during the week and I'll be using up the seed bread loaf that's been lurking in the cupboard as the accompanying carbs); and tonight's dinner was four potatoes I found at the bottom of the vegetable crisper, steamed in the microwave rice cooker and mashed with some parmesan cheese, sea salt, pepper and seed mustard. 

Petrified by Fort Minor

Have put in the non-video video because really, how many moodily-lit black-and-white shots of people miming into microphones do you really need in one lifetime?

Just enjoy this song and find your inner hip-hop-happy place.

ZOMG eleventy etc etc THERE IS AN EDDIE IZZARD DOCUMENTARY COMING OUT.

(heh - coming out. heh: "That squirrel was just COVERED in makeup!")

Not that I have a Thing about wickedly-WICKEDLY-funny-wonderfully-human-ran-42-marathons-for-charity-talent-falling-out-of-his-arse-improbably-hot-while-in-girls'-clothes-still-hot-in-boys'-clothes-star-of-stage-and-screen-comedians AT ALL.

*ahem* The trailer isn't that fabulous, although the shots of the small-running-boy-in-the-huge-landscape to the Empire of the Sun choral music was somewhat haunting.

Anyway: here we go and Australian release date o when o when o when?

Before the next incarnation twinkle-toes his way onto our screens with his little pixie friend:

(say it with me boys and girls: lalalalalalal
ItrustStephenMoffatbecausehewroteBlinkandSilenceintheLibraryandCoupling
ItrustStephenMoffatbecausehewroteBlinkandSilenceintheLibraryandCoupling
ItrustStephenMoffatbecausehewroteBlinkandSilenceintheLibraryandCouplingLALALALALALAAAAA)



Find more videos like this on BAM Vid Vault

A little background: weight went up.  Bad choices made with food.  Gym attendance dropped way way down.  Could feel self sort of spiralling and becoming lost and sort of nothingy.

I put this to the management committee (Ingrid and Kindilan) (incidentally: this in itself a major change in life-management, that I actually ask for help with my problems) and after talking it round a bit, we decided that it was the NUMBER which panicked me.  Being at a certain weight reminded me too much of something bad that happened last time I was down that far and so one's subconscious hath said unto me: "if you are not that weight again, you cannot have the bad time again, there ya go, problem solved!".

I got that close, and I panicked. There's no other word for it.   My sister (who has also had a long battle with her weight, even though she is 5 foot 9, blonde and completely gorgeous and never got as big as me) said she had a similar reaction when her weight started dropping.  We are very keen to compare notes this Christmas.  Anyways.

So the Management Committee's solution was thusly: Mike the Personal Trainer would weigh me once a week and not tell me the number, just the direction (was it down, up, or the same) and adjust my program accordingly. 

And I recommitted to being at the gym four times a week.  Except being me, I'm all about completeness, and I did a week of five sessions, and good food choices.  My mate Fiona (the very short one, not the very tall one) was in residence, and cooking for the two of us and making sure we were both breakfasted and sorted out was really really good for re-setting my routine - in much the same way that the best way to reinforce your own training is to teach someone else.

At the end of last week, I got to see Mike struggle not to give me more than "yes it's down, yes it's a good result."  He paused and went: "it's a really good result."  Pause.  "no really, a great result." and I had to say: "Miiiike," before he stopped himself.    (This week, some dodgy food choices, but godsdammit, I've done my four sessions and tomorrow is Mike and another weigh-in, and hopefully he'll have another struggle.)

It's completely liberating not having to think about numbers, just to do the work.   There's been other benefits: feeling stronger, feeling hungry and then un-hungry in the correct sequences, feeling smug (oh, you can't beat that one to get you through the day), being just about comatose at 10pm and sleeping deeply for seven or eight hours, and I think I look more like a human being; but then there's been a mental readjustment, viz:

I should like to extend special thanks to two younger blonde girlies in the gym, one who was doing some stretching and balancing work near me on the stretching mats; and one who came scurrying up the steps as I was leaving.  Both of them in their mid-20s, both of them with beautiful taut, trim bodies and both of them looking driven and so haunted. 

And everything sort of clicked into a different perspective as I thought back on how I'd gotten the body I had/have now.  And here it is: I have had an absolutely lovely time.  I did a lot of rowing in my early 20s (which was also large amounts of fun even if hard work) but that sort of faded away, and by then I was back into choirs.  I wasn't hitting the gym, I was singing, going to parties, working, singing some more, having fun with boys, eating whatever I wanted, wandering about and going to cafes, doing craft, visiting my friends, eventually travelling (and in London I drank a LOT of beer - while doing all of the above might I add, only slightly more soggily and with a hybrid accent) and then I came back to Oz and did more of the same.  As I recall, my way of saying "I love you Melbourne, I shall never leave again" was to eat and drink my way across it and lordy we have fabulous food in this town!

Yes, there was an emotional rollercoaster in there, and depression, and we won't go anywhere near the relationship with the maternal unit; and the vague odd attempt at being fit or eating the right things, but I can safely say that I never scurried up the gym steps looking like demons were just behind me whispering lies into my shell-like.

But then there comes a time in a person's life when having a body that soaks up whatever you throw at it becomes more inconvenient than useful.  That time is now, and this is what I've decided to do to make sure I last for at least the next 40 years.  This is my version of Ctrl+Alt+Delete.

I'm not sure if I made my point in all of that, but I feel VERY excited to have made it!

No intarwebs at home. 

Work ridiculously busy.

Am hitting the gym a LOT in a bid to stop the fat cells expanding any further.  They are already somewhat in retreat.  Mostly just very, very confused.  As is my body with the whole regular-food-regular-exercise-clean-house-routine-sleep-practice-WTF? thing.  Aww.

Gigs are happening - one in Nov, one in Dec, one in April, one in June.  More on my website when I have confirmed details.  Hopefully will take a week off at the end of October and maybe finally do The Recording.

Oh - and my Manager of Doom has decided to relocate herself elsewhere in the department.  Excellent.  I can put the shovel away.

So my parents had their 50th wedding anniversary celebration this weekend.   We took them away to a nice hotel and had a family weekend (and it was just super).

We even had a photo-call for the family with the lovely and very talented Juliet Morris.  Mother was all "no no, just happy snaps" and I was all "no, no, there are some things you get a professional in for, and this is one of them."   Surprisingly, she demurred (especially after I sent her the link to Juliet's website), because by then we had momentum and she did not wish to be squished by the juggernaut.

Here's the happy (if slightly overwhelmed couple) next to the duckpond at Lindenwarrah:



Desperate amounts of Teh Cute, yes?  Mother looks a little wild around the eyes because about half an hour previously we had presented them with a quilt to which we had all contributed and which we started at Christmas last year.

My sister was the project manager for the very obvious reason that she actually knows how to quilt and is a bit of a fabric tragic. 

My brother and sister-in-law cut and sewed about 30 blocks; and I was general dogsbody (cutting out, pattern and fabric choice, cups of tea, cheerleading and a couple of specific tasks, of which more below).

Here is what we gave them:



( Clickety for more pretty pix )

My name is Alexandra and I am an Events Manager.  And there's no 12-step program for THAT.

However, today I was glad for the myriad and bizarre screw-ups and *situations* (as in "Alexandra, we have a *situation*") I've had to deal with in the past, because today was a perfect event, and it was the one I wanted to get right: my parents' 50th wedding anniversary celebration. 

They wanted something low-key, just the family.....and not having to DO anything.  It took some pretty fast talking to get them in the right mindset on only having to spend dollars on (a) petrol to get down to the venue and/or (b) outfits to wear....and between my sibs and I, we delivered, with just enough nice surprises to keep them guessing.

We've been saving for two years plus  - three siblings, $20 a week each, it all adds up - and have had enough to book rooms for everyone at the very very nice Lindenwarrah (I've been regaling people on Facebook with updates about my room with the vineyard 20 feet away, and fountain just outside, the lovely appointments, the free wifi....); with dinner and breakfasts thrown in; and have spa treatments for the ladies this morning, lunch at the wonderful Brown Bros Epicurean Centre which was a 100-metre stroll up the road; and in between a presentation of a quilt to which we all contributed (I let my sister manage that little side project), and a photo session with the photographer Juliet Morris and some nice little keepsakes, plus a very short  and lovely speech from my brother which ended with..."..and this is not so much a celebration of the fifty, as it is of your marriage" and we ALL had to dive for the tissues and mother's mascara ran for the third time in as many hours and she was saying things like "waterproof? I don't bloody think so!" as she blotted yet again.

Yes, my family drive me crazy, and I know many people have had more grief than love from theirs - but I am glad for each and every one of them, economy-sized dags though they may be.

Below: this is what a very relieved event manager looks like in the quiet of her lovely room after an event that really really matters comes off okay.

I shall be performing out at Burrinja Cafe this afternoon with Jin and John at a thing called Classics in the Caf:

Sunday 6 September 2009 at 2.00pm-4.00pm - Classics in the Caf – Burrinja Cafe,  with Jin and John Tang

We will be performing in 10-minute sets with lots of breaks if you want to come and chat to us, or just listen for a bit while you have cake and latte.

Burrinja Cultural Centre: Melways 75 B12, Matson Drive cnr Glenfern Road

Upwey VIC 3158