christmas time is here/vince guaraldi trio

Christmas Time Is Here by the Vince Guaraldi Trio is the least cheesiest, cheesy Christmas song I know. I actually listen to it when it's not Christmas. Yeah, go figure.

This Christmas I'm feeling more Christmas-ey than ever even though I have to admit I am at my most cynical. But an afternoon watching Elf with friends and (sort of) helping them prepare for their Christmas (plus a jog/walk that drove home my horrendously unfit state) filled me up and made me realise that if I don't start paying attention I'll miss it (whatever 'it' is). I couldn't have asked for a better Christmas present... and seeing as I wasn't asking, it was the best.

Merry Christmas.

(This post was proudly sponsored by the word 'Christmas'. Tell me exactly how many times it was used and I WILL send you a prize in the New Year. Bonus prize for who can tell me which two movie soundtracks you can find the song on.)

strange fruit/billie holiday

scars

After a couple of days at work where staff members have accidentally cut body parts with knives or slicers both in and outside of work we all ended up gathered in the office this afternoon for an impromptu scar sharing conversation. There was a wrist drilling scar, a missing pinky finger tip and a face plant scar on a nose. I showed my predominately hand centric scars and the one on my ear (as a three year old I stood on my sisters rocking chair and ROCKED until I could take no more and fell ear first onto the corner of a coffee table). I looked to the next person in anticipation of their scar stories (I love scars) thinking I was completely finished with showing my scars when one of the girls said "don't forget the one on your neck!", then another says "yeah, I think it's really interesting, it adds to your mystery". I responded with my usual flippant sarcasm; "I just thought it made me a hormonally imbalanced teenager." Then I responded to my first instinct and reached up and ran my finger along it.

I'd completely forgotten about that scar.

Speaking of scars and things that are interesting and mysterious I was in a store today and a guy walked past me in quite a rush carrying boxes. In big cursive black writing from elbow to wrist was the word "Queenslander...." with silver shading (yes, the '....' was part of it). I had to ask. So as he passed me I pointed to his arm and asked; "Is that... real?!" and he replied proudly; "It sure is!" I then suffered a rare involuntary verbal thought vomit because I grinned and said, "Wow! That's cah-ray-zy!" He looked back at me very briefly and blankly saying "Why is it crazy?"

He was too far past me for me to try and explain to him that, well, if it were me, it would say "South Australian...."

leaders of the free world/elbow

Elbow are a great British band with a huge lush sound that I love. The singer has a big warm strong voice. I heard "Leaders of the Free World" a couple of times on the radio and, without listening to the words, thought it was some kind of political statement (the chorus I heard well enough; "the leaders of the free world are just little boys throwing stones and it's easy to ignore until their knocking on the door of your homes" and then there is the line; "passing the gun from father to feckless son") but when I got the CD home I kept playing it over and over. Once I got myself comfortable with the lyrics unfolded in front of me I realised why I liked it so much. There is still a political nature to it, but the first few lines were exactly how I was feeling at the time.

A friend just told me a story about helping her Grandmother move into her parents house. Her Grandmother had been living independently for over 20 years but this year her health has deteriorated to the point where she can no longer live alone. When my friend and her husband arrived at her Grandmothers house to help pack and move they found her moving packed boxes into the hallway. She had already packed up her things. By herself. All but one thing which she gave to my friend. Here's what her Grandmother told her:

"The neighbours gave it to me. They are lovely people and I'm grateful, but really! What is a ninety-four year old woman going to do with a set of tea cups and saucers? I'd much prefer a Mars Bar."

Is it wrong that I feel that way and I'm only twenty-eight?

Last weekend while wandering West End in the dusky late afternoon I spotted someone playing an accordion in the local Laundromat. I really wanted to ask him if I could take his photograph but, being the complete coward I am, I just walked straight home. In the wee hours of the next morning I woke up to the softest most beautiful little accordion sounds drifting down my street. They were obviously playing as quietly as they could because of the time of day it was. I didn't even hop up to peer out of my window because I was in that sleepy inbetween dream and wake state of being and could barely believe what I was hearing. I wish I could have seen them walking down the street playing. I bet it was the same guy.

On Friday morning I found myself driving most of the way to work behind a big covered ute. In the back of the ute was a sandy coloured greyhound that kept wandering from side to side and sticking its head out of the windows. Then I noticed that every time he stuck his head out of a window he would lick his chops and giants globs of doggy drool would fly kamaze into my windshield. I could not stop laughing.

When I make a movie, that will definitely make up part of a driving scene.