What the heck?

As Tim's grand-dad would say.

What the heck is going on with my blog?

For the life of me, I can't get the blog entries to load
properly up the top. If anyone out there has even the slightest bit of tech savvy to help me fix this, I will reward you with...appreciation. HA! If that's not a valuable commodity in this day and age, then I don't know what is.

On Tattoos

I've just been checking out a conversation on the humble tattoo, over at Vibewire. And I thought I'd re-post my thoughts here, seeing as:

a) I haven't written on this topic before; and
b) it's Friday; and ergo
c) I'm too lazy to think up something more original.

Basically, when it comes to tattoos, I'm a fan. However, I
do shout out a big 'beware!' to all who are pondering 'to tatt or not to tatt' - what you should know, no, what you MUST
know, is this: tattoos are addictive!

I have two - one on my lower tum-tum, which, since going through 2 pregnancies now looks less like a beautiful dove flying through eternity and more like a hardened magpie struggling through a cyclone.

BUT...at least it's now truly original.

My second one is on my lower back (yes, I'm one of THOSE people) and was done on a whim (actually it was almost a dare), but years later I'm happy to report that I still love it.

But...every few months or so, I feel that itch to get another. Will I or won't I? Who knows? Ooh, the anticipation! Please, pop a sedative and sit down, won't you?

But the point is, be warned: tattoos are like Pringles - once you pop, you can't stop!

Though hopefully you wouldn't actually 'pop' during the
event, but you know...the sentiment's the same. :-)

Real Comedians Don't Cry (or Apologise)

Sorry bout that little outburst yesterday, folks.

Rest assured I am now back to cheery delusions of
invincibility.

Stay tuned: Less morbid thoughts...coming to a blog near you!!!

This entry is likely to contain no humour whatsover: you have been warned

Ella: "I don't want you to die."

Me: "Why do you say that?"

Ella: "Because you're going to die soon."

Insert chills here.

I know it's probably just kids being kids and all that, but for some reason, my four-year-old daughter speaking those
words has really rattled me. Well...not 'for some reason' but 'for some very specific reasons'! Okay, okay, I usually try and steer clear of the personal stuff on this
blog, but...what the heck? If I am going out soon, then I'm not taking the personal stuff with me!!!

Firstly, dying young has always been something I have not only been worried about, but have in a sense, been convinced would happen to me. Namely cos my own mother died when she was 33 (I was 5 and my sister 2) and so...put two and two together and all that. Not really rational, but a lifelong paranoia nonetheless.

Secondly, I'm now 27. It has always freaked me out that a lot of people seem to die at 27. I spose a lot of people die at
any given age, but 27 has definitely attracted some attention - Jeff (and Tim) Buckley, Kurt Cobain, Jimi Hendrix, Jim Morrison...I'm sure there's more too...the point is, it's just plain spooky and I am just plain 27.

Thirdly, I guess all the 'Crocodile Hunter' stuff has spurred off some death-oriented thoughts - just the reality of seeing someone so full of life, suddenly devoid of it, freaks me out. And especially thinking about kids growing up without a parent (which is not a Croc Hunter exclusive scenario, obviously: there are millions if not billions of people out there who've lost someone they love), well...there you have it. I
can honestly say that the thought of my kids growing up without me there to see it...worst nightmare ever. Even worse than the one where Hannibal Lector invades my house while Mariah Carey sings from inside a bird-cage. Duh.

So...the bottom line is that I'm trying to see all these thoughts (and Ella's contribution to morning conversation) as not so much a morbid premonition, but as a catalyst to really reassess my priorities.

I mean, indulging just for a momen the idea that I am to die 'soon' - what do I really want to do with my time from this point onward?

Hmmmmmm........

Communication Problems

Here's the thing: I can hardly understand a thing my son says.

Oh sure, we end up working it out - via a flurried combo of flailing arm gestures, Ella taking on translator-duties and Caleb taking on all-out tantrums - but sometimes just the fact that I haven't a clue what he's on about makes me feel like the only right I have to the 'mother' badge is to use it to pin my forehead with a 'LOSER' sign.

For instance:

Caleb: "Muuuma wooot doin waahflaches."

Me: "What am I what?"

Caleb: "Wooot doin waahflaches."

Me: "Uh...."

Cue me nodding enthusiastically.

Me: "Yeah! That's right!"

Cue Caleb catching onto my evil deception - manifested in a choreographed sequence of stomping feet that would probably score him a part in Riverdance, should he ever feel inclined to apply.

Caleb: "NOOOO!!!!"

Me: "What?"

Caleb: (yelling) "WOOOOT DOO-IN WAAAAAAHHHh-FLAKES."

Me: "I'm sorry, I don't know what you're saying."

Cue more screaming, etc etc etc until a moment of distraction is discovered and seized.

For instance:

Me: "Hmm, I'm not sure about that, but check out this awesome PLASTIC SPOON!"

Caleb: "Yay!"

A beat.

Caleb: "Muuuma wooot doin waahflaches pas-tika pooon?"

Walk On

I was listening to this U2 song this morning on the good old radio (seeing as our entire collection of CDs got left in Melbourne when we moved from there a couple of years ago - it's a long story and one that makes me sad to recount. Ergo...I'll move on shall I?) and it got me thinking.

One of the BEST things I learned in terms of watching stand-ups, improvisers and other performers in the States was how the best ones have an incredible ability to let go of the previous moment and move forward to the next. i.e. if a joke bombs or they don't get as huge a laugh as they might have hoped for, they don't waste time beating themselves up about it and thus let it ruin the rest of their performance purely by thinking 'I'm crap and the audience hates me'...they just forget about it, 'walk on' and put 100% into the next bit.

Which seems not only a good lesson in performance terms (I'm actually trying to put it into practice right now, having just finished an audition which I have no idea as to whether it was a grand golden nugget or a squishy dog turd) but in terms of life.

Cos - and here's where I get gorgonzola-like - I like to think of a moment of failure like a piece of chewing gum that you've dropped on the footpath.

Now, the fact is you've dropped it. You can't change that. But...you do have a choice as to where to from here.

You can either :
- pick it up, put it in the bin and then keep on walking; OR
- step on it, and continue walking - but then your entire walking experience is lessened by the fact that you have disgusting gum on your shoe making you stick to the footpath. That, and now your breath stinks.

Okay, a sucky metaphor, but one that should be chewed over. (Hehe, sorry I'm having one of those 'dad joke' days).

Anyway, the point is, in the words of Bono:
WALK ON!!!!

Jenny's self-help book "The Chewing Gum Within: Finding the Taste that Really Lasts" will be available from all half-decent book stores in 2007. Each book comes with a free packet of Spearmint - so you can freshen your breath and your zest for life in the one sweet movement. Hurry: only while stocks last.

Ladies Luncheons and Mojo

That's it. I'm only EVER doing gigs where the audience is 98% female and 98% full of champagne.

In other words...Friday rocked. I'm in love with MCing. Mind you, I've had it on very good authority from some other (excellent and esteemed) comics that corporates suck the big one, and I'll be the first to admit that MCing a charity gig - complete with the conditions specified above - that my introduction to this world was rather sugar-coated. But for now...I'm gonna go with 'it rocked'.

Amongst the moments worth mentioning was apparently finding a fan in the form of a quite well-to-do CEO of a major club, who was herself quite the performer. In all her 'happy' state, she alternated between gushing over my dimples and humour "But YOU....YOU are FUNNY!" and doing impersonations of Col Elliot.

Weird.

Still, she made me chuckle and even better, said that she wanted to book me for her club's Christmas party. So whether that was the pink champagne talking (I jokingly suggested the function should be changed from "Think Pink" to "Drink Pink") time will tell.

But overall...fun, fun, fun. To complete the picture for you, the setting was a gorgeous club right on the beach, with tables decorated with pink everything - pink bows, pink gift boxes and endless bottles of pink champagne.

Basically, as I told the crowd, it was like the wedding my husband would never let me have.

Ahh...and speaking of the hub-ster, we managed to convince the grandfolks to take the kids overnight on Saturday - so we could have our first child-free quality time in MONTHS (please, for any of you out there without kiddly-winks, please do savour the space - and the lack of poo in your life, but that's a whole other story) and it rocked.

We bushwalked, drank wine, had our hangovers by 4 in the afternoon, thus allowing time for our second wind in the night, checked out the Grape and Groove Festival, walked around the city, went and saw "An Inconvenient Truth" (which you MUST SEE NOW - there you go, there's my duty to humankind done for the day) and then the best of all....slept in.

So you will hopefully understand why the update on the Friday gig has been a little late in coming. But not for a lack of wanting - I do apologise. But I was busy...getting my mojo back baby!!!

Yeee-haw!

Welcome to the World of Corporate Entertainment

My first corporate gig as MC tomorrow - WOOHOO!!

I have longed for this day for...well, 'as long as I can remember' is overkill, but for a while, t' be sure! (Sorry, that's a hangover from International Talk Like a Pirate Day.)

But anyway, I'm excited. And nervous. But mostly just relieved that I've finally cracked it. From what I've heard, when it comes to corporate stuff - like grants - once you've gotten one, it opens the door for more. I certainly hope so, anyway.

Plus I've also been booked to do a roving Eddie from Ab Fab at another corporate event on Melbourne Cup Day in November.

And, to top off the coolities (please help me make this a real word), we've somehow managed to swindle a child-free night away (our first one since the Byron trip all the way back in February) this Saturday.

Sweetie!

Wish me luck!

The Stuff I Didn't Tell You About the USA trip

So here's the deal: I've spent the past near-month beginning to digest the whole trip - no easy task, I assure you. The only times I actually HAVE processed even parts of it are when I've been talking to other people (hi Ash!) and even then, I have barely scraped the surface.

The point is, it was near impossible to document all of this in the mere minutes per day I had available to blog - so I thought I'd do my standard Readers' Digest version of some of the stuff that DIDN'T get mentioned on the blog:

Not Getting to Do Everything: BOOHOO!!!!!

One of the biggest things I struggled with overseas was the frustration of only getting to the tip of the iceberg in everything, or to be more specific:

- sightseeing;
- comedy seeing;
- improv seeing;
- new material writing;
- blogging;
- personal journal writing;
- postcard writing;
- everything in between!

It seems like my biggest lesson on the trip was just realising that at some point you need to accept that you cannot do everything. In fact, that was but one of many life lessons I learned on the trip - as Daena (my solo improv coach) said to me "This is an incredible journey for you to be taking. But remember, it's not just a physical journey, it's a personal one too." Oh, was it ever.

A Personal Journey

You see, since I became a mother some 4 (very) odd years ago, I have had absolutely NO extended period of time alone to digest my own crap. So suddenly having three and a half weeks just to focus on me....well, I guess stuff was bound to come up. And did it ever! I won't go into details cos some of it's quite personal, but suffice to say that the first week in particular, (which, as well as the solo improv coaching, seemed to evolve into a type of one-on-one masterclass in acting) was like a colonoscopy for the soul. Hmmm...now that I think about it, that sounds like a title for a chain of books: Colonoscopy for the Grandma's Soul, Colonoscopy for the Teenager's Soul, Colonoscopy for the Burned Out Comedian's Soul...

Life Without The Kids

I cried like a baby the first night I got into New York. Seriously - my eyes were so red I was terrified to leave my hotel room lest I be mistaken for a stoned Aussie tourist, thereby being mugged, bashed and left to rot in an alley. That, added to the fact that I couldn't get in touch with the fam for THREE DAYS (which, if it's the first time you've ever left the little blighters for more than a couple of nights and you're on the opposite side of the globe, feels like having Mariah Carey shoved down your throat...while she's singing), rendered me a wreck.

BUT...once I'd spoken to them on the phone, heard that they were happy, and even heard the odd tantrum (whereupon I was actually super-thrilled to be half a world away), it was sweet. I basically got to a point of thinking "well, I can either waste this time feeling all misery guts, OR I can just savour the fact that I've got my arms free, heavens knows when that's ever gonna happen again, and make the most of every minute!"

So I went with that. And it worked rather well.

That said, the moment I saw them again when I got back from Oz, I cried. Yes, I know - I'm a dork.

The Highlight of the Trip

Without a doubt, this was working with Michael Pollock. He's the Musical Director of LA's Second City and Improv Olympic, and is one of those rare people who is not only a genius at what he does (i.e. improvised musical comedy) but is an absolute genius at teaching it.

More than anything, working with him just completely fired me up to get better at musical improv and to incorporate it more into my comedy full-stop. That, and performing in Las Vegas totally rocked. And he gave me amazing feedback. Followed by incredible hospitality in LA. Followed by giving me his manuscript for his next book, notes'n'all.

Seriously, my world will never be the same.

***
There you go, don't you feel better now? I know I do.

DUDE.

Kids Musical CDs vs Mama

So we're spending the morning dancing like lunatics to this kids' CD that my dad got for my daughter - it's one of those 'personalised' ones where they insert said child's name into every song at regular intervals.

"Let's Pretend, Ella!"
"What's Your Favourite Colour, Ella?"
"I think You're Special, Ella!"

Oh yes, it all started as fun and games...til I began to feel a little threatened. Ain't no CD gonna give my kid more love and attention than me...

Now the obvious solution would be to focus on giving more love and attention - I however, prefer the road less travelled.

That CD's gotta burn!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

(No pun intended. Seriously.)

LATEST WYNTER-TAINMENT NEWS

Check it out: www.jennywynter.com

Plus some new video bits and pieces have been uploaded to www.myspace.com/jennywynter

If you're completely unmoved by all this net-splather, then please...see your naturopath.

Rock on!

A little note to my body

Dear body,

You know that you're the only one I really listen to, don't you? I mean, sure, I ignore you most of the time, but when you start breaking down and throw a mega hissy fit my way...well, I don't put you in time out, berate you for tantruming or even threaten you with the wooden spoon. No, I listen to you dear body, because I know that at the end of the day, if you're off, then I'm off.

So I'm sorry for letting you feel so out of sorts - how about we come to an agreement?

I promise to:
- pamper you a little and help you chill the heck out;
- actually fill you with decent food;
- water you more often; and
- occasionally take you out for a walk. Okay, okay, REGULARLY! Sheez.

In return I expect you to:
- pep up a bit - no offence but sometimes you can just be so damn draining;
- fight off any villains, viruses and other nasty 'v' words that come your way;
- quit complaining; AND
- radiate that crucial level of attractiveness: just enough to make me feel 'hummenah' but not enough to trigger local wildlife in a 5km radius to head my way and start humping my leg.

So...I trust we are in agreement.

My apologies again for any inconvenience.

Let's do lunch.

Jen. xx

Technical hitches?

Hey dudes/dudettes/everything otherwise dudey,

Was chatting to my darling mate Mango Lick last night (one of the original and most avid 'Comic Mummy' readers - hell, I'd almost consider it stalking if she wasn't just so darn good looking) who told me that the last little while she's been finding my site hasn't been uploading properly. Or more specifically, it's only been loading ONE new entry since my return from the States, when, quite clearly, I've written dozens more since then.

I just wanted to put the yell out to see if anyone else has been having this problem?

Not that I'd know what to do about it - but it's nice to know where one stands, now, isn't it?

The War on Wildlife

I just heard yesterday that apparently some devastated Irwin fans have become Crocodile Hunter Vigilantes by undertaking sting-ray slayer sprees in North Queensland. Yes, you read that right - dead sting-rays have been found sprawled along beaches with...wait for it...their barbs cut off.

Now seriously...I'm sad that he died too, but slaughtering sting-rays?

What a croc.

When Diana passed on, did anybody start bombing French tunnels?

When River Phoenix took off, did anybody start dismembering drug cocktails?

When 9/11 happened, did anybody take it upon themselves to start slashing the tyres of American airlines? No! We didn't stuff around with the planes...we instead went directly to the source and bombed the crap out of some apparently terrorist-riddled countries.

So come on people - let's not be distracted by the sting-rays...let's get to the real source of the problem: WILDLIFE. Let's kill it all. We can slay roos, crocs, bears, birds, even coral (though it might be more efficient just to let the coral continue on its slow trawl down death row over the next 20 years - after all, if there's one thing better than revenge, it's efficiency.)

Then when we're done, we can stack up our kill, roast it on a spit and call it the 'Steve Irwin Barbeque Tribute - cos that'll teach the little bastards for messin' with one top bloke.'

Come on Australia. Let's do it for Steve.

5 Random Thoughts Before Bed

1. I feel like a twat having the same stupid photos of me up on the flickr bar at the top of my blog, but I don't have enough of an upload capacity on my flickr account (translation: me = cheapskate) to upload the billions of better photos I'd take if I could be bothered.

2. I've already got a hot copy of the CD recording in my hot little hottie hands and it's better than expected! Namely cos we had serious technical hitches on the night (translation: CD recorder not able to read CDs = use one mini-disc recorder and thus miss out on recording the audience reaction properly). BUT...the audience reaction, while only coming through my on-stage mic and thus kinda hard to hear, was still rockin'. Whether it was rockin' enough for EP... well, only time will tell. Stay tuned!

3. Damn I need to start drinking more water.

4. Ever since I've embraced the idea of me being a crappy kinda mum, I've felt so liberated. Like I don't have to prove that I'm a great mum anymore - I can just revel in the fact that I struggle, that I am typically overwhelmed and that half the time I don't know what I'm doing.

5. Don't be fooled by the kids that I got, I'm still, I'm still Jenny from the block...

Riding the wave

So it looks like things are really starting to happen. At least,
I hope so - I'm touching wood right now, a wondrous feat given that my hands are otherwise occupied on the keyboard.

This week for instance, I've been:

- contacted by a woman who saw me perform a little while back MCing the lovely Jody Ekert's show, and subsequently booked me to do some stand-up at a charity fundraiser;

- booked for my first corporate MCing gig (one which I hope will be the first of many!) for a women in business luncheon;

- contacted WAY in advance about performing at a comedy festival in Northern NSW in February (where, all things working out perfectly, I may combine some cool support
spots with some MC spots with a comedy debate: I'm
crossing every appendage I own);

- confirming performing at Woodford Folk Festival (where I cannot WAIT to get down and dirty with the hippies! In a comedic sense naturally. Ehem);

- approached by a guy who does entertainment bookings,
who, after tonight's gig, handed me his card and asked me to call him if I'm interested in doing more corporate stuff;

- plus more cool stuff I'm equally excited but too tired to
write about.

It's just so nice to feel like after SLOGGING MY BUTT OFF for so long (sorry, but just thinking about how much hard work has gone into the past couple of years makes me want to
yell, or failing that at least type with my caps-lock on) that it finally seems to be paying off. It feels like I've been paddling, paddling, paddling...all to try and get up on the board, and finally the momentum has just kicked in so I can just ease off a bit on the hard-core pushing and just go with the flow for a bit and ride the wave. Not that I plan to slacken off completely...but just...well, it's nice to let things happen for
a change. Believe me, that's a concept I really struggle with!

Before I collapse in a heap, I must mention one of the most unexpected yet flattering compliments I received from a 'fan' (yes, I'm still getting used to the concept but kinda enjoying it, I must admit) after tonight's gig at Uber. Her name was Tennille and the words that spewed forth from her lips were as follows:

Oh my God! I love you! And...I hope this doesn't sound
weird, but I totally want to have your babies!!!

So long as you're on nappy duty...

And on that fine note: goodnight.

Things that are hard to understand #173 - Fans

Josh Thomas, a darn good chummy of mine (and last year's National Raw Comedy Winner, for those of you who don't know) and I had a conversation not that long ago that went something like this...

Me: "I got an e-mail yesterday from this woman who sounded like she knew me, but I have no idea who it was."

Josh: "Have you met her?"

Me: "I don't think so. I think she might have come to Livewired last week."

Josh: "Oh! So it's a fan."

Me: "A fan? Huh?"

A moment of looking bemused.

Me: "Well, yeah I guess it was."

It's so bizarre to wrap one's head around the concept of having fans. Not in a 'oh WOW man, I like...am totally popular' (I hardly have the numbers to start up the Wynterland of Love Club) but it just spins me out even to have a couple...well, apparently 338 of them if Myspace's Comedian Stats are to be believed. And if they are, well then I'm truly excited - if only cos I know there's less than 338 people in my family.

Joshy, on the other hand, didn't seem even the slightest bit surprised about the whole concept - I can't believe he's so young and yet so darn professionalised. Spin. Out. I'm just waiting for him to release his great cathartic comedy record in a few years time about his battle wounds from blitzing the comedy scene so young:

"God help me...I was only nineteen."

When did my kids become aristocrats?

Self-censorship

I HATE it that I barely even scrape the surface of the things I really want to say in this blog, for fear of who might read them.

The times when I've thrown caution to the wind and just written whatever I damn well please, I've ended up in trouble. The internet is just too big, word of mouth is just too powerful and google is just too damn googly - when you post your thoughts in cyberspace, be warned: there is NOWHERE TO HIDE.

I'm beginning to think I should cut down on blogging and start keeping a private diary just for my own sanity...the problems being:

a) I love the fact that blogging means a reading audience; and
b) I barely have time to blog as it is, let alone pontificating for private purposes.

But...I still feel like I should make the time. I've kept a diary (on and off) since I was ten. The 'off' seasons I'd beat myself up mercilessly over my lack of writing input and the 'on' seasons I'd beat myself up mercilessly over my writing input being 98% focused on BOYS. Oh, when I fell, I fell hard and I've got the 1000+ pages to prove it.

Nowadays my thoughts would be less of the 'all-consuming crush' variety and more of the 'all-consuming LIFE' variety. Or would they? I've no idea...I guess there's only one way to find out. But I do think it would really help me to process all the craziness in this head of mine to get back to diary-writing...plus it's always cool to look back at the 'old' you and roll your eyes at how ridiculous you sound.

Like in fifty years, (assuming the internet hasn't imploded) I will no doubt look back at this very entry, throw my saggy arms heavenward and cry out "Aye Jenny, SHUT UP YOU NARCISSISTIC TOSSER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Then of course, I'll spin out at having typed that exact sentence fifty years prior, thus throwing the entire cosmos into disarray, perhaps even causing the end of existence as we know it.

Either that or I'll just feel like a narcissistic tosser.

I Heart Fridays

Ella is home sick today, meaning I am spending the day battling work, addiction to myspace and mothering nursely duties.

The house, however, is the real casualty in all this - sometimes I get so down about it I just throw on a pair of ear-muffs, blindfold myself and walk around imagining I'm on a lush beach somewhere in the Caribbean, a place of such beauty that all guests need to be blinded and deafened for fear that exposure to such gorgeousness would be fatal.

Clearly I need help.

I cannot WAIT until Tim is no longer a student and I actually start to earn some decent money from performing (I can almost hear some of you writhing in laughter at that concept) - not for the sake of it, but...okay, stuff it. Here you go, my 'if we had heaps of money' dream list:

- a cleaner
- a funky nanny who does all the crafty stuff with the kids that I hate
- a masseuse
(hell, if all of the above fitted into the one neat package all the better)
- a beach house in Byron
- a pad in New York
- Johnny Depp

Okay, okay, now I'm just being silly.

We could never afford a pad in New York.

All I really really want is a cleaner. It's my dream. Yours?

Wanted: loud-laughing audience members for my CD RECORDING!

Hooray! I'm FINALLY getting my a into g and recording my first live set for my first live CD for my first live stab at entering the world of merchandising. So come on down, it should be...live.

And if that's not cool enough, it's going to recorded at the Comedy Gala fundraising festivities for that station dear to my heart...Triple Zed.

Dig it.

So please, do drag yourself along and be part of the live audience - not only will you be in my good books for life but your laughter will be eternally on-record. And here's a tip - if you've heard my songs a billion times, then please...just come along, fake amnesia (or pop a rohypnol) and laugh as loud as humanly possible anyway.

Ta.

Where: Sit Down Comedy Club, Given Tce, Paddington

When: Next Wednesday 13th September, 8pm

Cost: $10 (or $8 Zed subscribers)

Who: Featuring Josh Thomas, Nish, Bart Freebairn, Hooray for Everything, Alan Rutlege and more...

Book: 3369 4499 or tix @ door (if there's any left)

Romeo, Romeo, Whereforeart Thou...

I must tell you, I went a little nuts in the USA stocking up on comedy books and DVDs. Not as nuts as I could have gone, mind you, but compared to my usual nut-less self...well, just coat me in chocolate and call me Snickers.

But one of the BEST items I laid my hot little hands on (not that my hands are hot, I may be conceited but I'm not that bad...my ankles however, now they are smokin!) was a DVD of Franko Zeffirelli's Romeo and Juliet. I used to be obsessed with this film, you see. I was only four and so obviously had no idea what they were really saying - except for the 'Nurse! Nurse!' bit; I got that - but I got the gist. They were gorgeous and in love and they died in the end.

The point is, I finally watched it again last night, for the first time in over twenty years. And it was a ton better than I even remembered. Maybe because in all my grown-up wisdom I actually had a clue as to what the heck was going on. Even the 'It is the lark!' bit made sense.

But most of all: the music! Up until now Danny Elfman's fabulous Edward Scissorhands soundtrack has held my number one vote, but I think Romeo and Juliet has actually re-claimed the championship. It is so good it almost kills me. It took me straight back (the way that music does) to my early childhood - and I realised that it is this exact film that first planted the seeds in me of wanting to create. Or more specifically, to create work that affected people. Because this affected me so profoundly - so much so, in fact that I took great masochistic joy in watching it over and over until I had no tears left in my cute little ducts.

Not that my ducts were cute...I may be up myself but I'm not a complete twat. My ear-canal however, now that was scorching!

(I apologise yet again to any of you reading: I really should enforce a 'no blogging after midnight' kurfew).

5 movies I'd rather see less than "Snakes on a Plane"

1. "Rabid Wolves on a Cruise Ship"

2. "Gerbils in a Submarine"

3. "Gastrically Challenged Toddlers on a Spaceship"

4. "Hannibal Lector on a Tightrope"

5. "Sharks onstage: with Celine Dion"

(Actually on second thought that last one could be kinda cool...)

Crikey: The Crocodile Hunter RIP

I guess we always knew Steve Irwin was going to be unlucky one of these days.

But somehow I always thought it would be a croc or a snake or at least a disgruntled Aussie, rather than a humble sting-ray.

I never really liked him, but still...I feel sad.

The tables have turned

For a long time, I was so intent on keeping 'my life' alive (i.e. in the midst of fog-dom that is being a mummy) that I looked for any opportunity to spend time out of the house and without the kids as some sort of golden rainbow of pleasantness and magic - a rarity to be treasured.

But...since getting back from my USA jaunt (not that I didn't enjoy being nappy-free for that entire time) I couldn't be less that way inclined.

You see, for BOTH of the weekends since my return I have been flown to Sydney for some corporate improv work - excellent, yes, especially given that I've been trying to break into the company for over a year now - but honestly, all I can think of while I'm away is how much I want to be with my kids. The homesickness is worse than when I was abroad!

I actually cried the other day when I dropped them off to day-care. Yes. I'm pathetic.

BUT...I'm taking action.

I've made the very painful decision to quit some freelance work (which was very important to both me and the organisation involved) AS WELL AS the decision to cut the kids' day-care days down by a day. Cos you know what? While I'm so excited that career stuff is finally taking a turn for the better (touch wood) I'm suddenly so conscious of how quickly all this kid stuff is over. And I don't want to look back and think that I missed it cos I was too busy trying to get my own life on track.

What do you know? As easy as the pros make it seem, apparently this juggling thing is harder than it looks.

Damn you Cirque de Soleil. Damn you.