Being 15 again - or where's the thermostat?

After spending Christmas in Queensland with my family, I found myself sitting in the backseat of my parents' car with Alfie, the dog, driving back to the farm in NSW. Suddenly I was fifteen again. The radio in the car was intermittent and when it worked, was permanently tuned in to the cricket with heavy dose of static. The only thing worse than cricket on TV is cricket on the radio. The CD player has given up the ghost. This may have been a blessing as the selection was likely to include Slim Dusty live in Wagga Wagga. I put my earphones in and listened to my ipod. I'm enjoying discovering the dark corners of my music collections by setting it to shuffle all songs; although with my eclectic taste in music there can be moments of surprise as I lurch from Miles Davis to Michael Nyman and everything in between. Most startling is the voice recordings of invoices to do for my brother that have made their way onto my ipod the last time I synced. The move from Mozart to "standard horse dental" is quite confusing - especially if it happens when I'm dozing.

Overall the trip was pretty good and I've been enjoying the garden at my parents' home. It is alive with birds and native wildlife.

On the first afternoon I spotted a large koala in one of the trees in the front yard. I marveled at its strength as it was able to rest on two twigs and happily sleep while the branches blew in the breeze. He looked down at me and stretched, giving me a good glimpse of his strong claws. At one point he growled, reminding me that he was a wild animal and not a cute cuddly toy.

At dusk every evening, a tiny rabbit and a family of kangaroos come in to graze on the green lawn. I've discovered that the kangaroos rest under the bushy row of oleanders that shield the house from the road. I'm trying to sneak out and capture them on film, but so far my efforts have resulted in lovely shots of grass with a dark smudge in a far corner as the kangaroo hops away.

Yesterday while Alfie and I were out for our evening stroll, he went one way and I went the other. Suddenly I heard a yelp and Alfie streaked past me. I couldn't see what he was chasing but wasn't concerned because he's slowing in his old age. When he was younger, he'd give everything in pursuit of hares and kangaroos, but now he's back to a more sedate pace and seems to run just for the enjoyment.

White cockatoos are noisy in the trees at any time of day. They chatter amongst themselves, sometimes amiably and at other times they sound like a cranky parent arguing with the children. Whenever I open the door to go out, the noise crescendos and dozens of birds fly overhead, a slight tinge of yellow visible in their white wingspans.

The other challenge I face while with my parents is temperature control. Anything higher than "polar" causes my mother to declare that she's hot. Constant questions about whether the temperature is right for me result in nothing, despite constant responses that I can't speak because I'm busy chipping away at the layer of ice that has formed all over my body. I blink my eyes and ask if she can hear that noise - it's the sound of ice cracking on my eyelashes. The thermostat on the car remains on 18 degrees Celsius. The thermostat in the house remains on 20 degrees Celsius. At one point my teeth were chattering and this too resulted in no further action except silent contemplation. As I was travelling during summer, I didn't think to pack my thermals, but clearly I should have. I'll have to remember for my next visit.

That's all I can manage to write today as I'm not wearing my fingerless gloves while I type. Knitting some is out of the question as my fingers would surely snap off while underway and the resulting trip to the hospital on New Year's Eve is too much to contemplate, especially since I'd be travelling in the car with that layer of ice forming. At least I won't bleed to death. I empathise with the people on the boat stranded in the Antarctic ice at the moment.

I don't understand what happens to mothers and temperature control. When I was younger my mother's sole mission was to ensure that I was warm enough. This quest resulted in me always being required to wear singlet and socks to ensure no loss of body heat. At one stage I defined a singlet as "something you wear when your mother's cold". What happened?

Christmas wishes - with a twist

I'm switching off for Christmas holidays. I'll be spending time with family, heading off to music camp to write my annual song and generally lying around with a book (well, my e-reader actually).

Thank you to you, my readers; you add a very special dimension to divacultura. Knowing you're out there means a lot.

I wish you peace, joy and love - whatever your beliefs.

Or in "Spanish":

For lease navidad!
© divacultura 2013

NB I did not deface this sign, just noticed it in the street and laughed out loud. Now try getting the song out of your head!

A new take on Christmas carols - for the psychiatrically challenged

I received this list from a member of my vocal group. I was eating toast when I read it and am still finding bits of soggy toast in the computer keyboard and stuck to the wall as a result of the guffaw that resulted as I read it. On one hand, it's lazy for me to repost this, but on the other hand, so accurate I'm thinking of including it in briefings for actors working in my mental health simulation program.

Thank you to whoever wrote this list!

CHRISTMAS CAROLS FOR THE PSYCHIATRICALLY CHALLENGED

Schizophrenia --- Do You Hear What I Hear?

Multiple Personality Disorder --- We Three Queens Disoriented Are

Amnesia --- I Don't Know if I'll be Home for Christmas

Narcissistic --- Hark the Herald Angels Sing About Me

Manic --- Deck the Halls and Walls and House and Lawn and Streets and Stores and Office and Town and Cars and Buses and Trucks and Trees and Fire Hydrants and ...

Paranoid --- Santa Claus is Coming to Get Me

Borderline Personality Disorder --- Thoughts of Roasting on an Open Fire

Personality Disorder --- You Better Watch Out, I'm Gonna Cry, I'm Gonna Pout, Maybe I'll tell You Why

Obsessive Compulsive Disorder ---Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells .

Agoraphobia --- I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day But Wouldn't Leave My House

Autistic --- Jingle Bell Rock and Rock and Rock and Rock .

Senile Dementia --- Walking in a Winter Wonderland Miles From My House in My Slippers and Robe

Oppositional Defiant Disorder --- I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus So I Burned Down the House

Social Anxiety Disorder --- Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas While I Sit Here and Hyperventilate.

Just don't wish him "Merry Christmas" - neighbourly encounter

As I arrived home last night I encountered my whacko neighbour. I feel slightly bad describing Gottfried like that because I think he likes me.

I saw him walk in the front gate ahead of me and knew that we would meet at his front door. He was just putting the key in his door when I came around and the corner and said hello.

"Oh, it's you, Tanya. Hello Tanya! How are you Tanya?"

Did I mention that one of the things that freaks me out is that he drops my name every three or four words?

"Hello Gottfried."

"Tanya, don't tell me you're getting caught up in this Christmas thing! Tanya!"

I was carrying what looked like several bags, but really one was my handbag, one contained my mail and the other was a huge bag from David Jones which contained a new hat I had bought for the beach.

"Oh I don't know. There's lots to organise!" I said, overly cheerful.

"Well Tanya, I can imagine that you're..."

"No one will know what hit them," I quickly inserted, afraid of what he might say next.

"No Tanya. Nothing will hit anyone. You'll have everything so organised Tanya!"

Oh god, was that a blush I saw rising on his cheeks?

"I don't know about that Gottfried."

I changed the subject.

"I know that you don't celebrate Christmas or New Year, but have a nice time over this period whatever you do." (I'd previously been ungraciously chastised for having the temerity to wish him happy Christmas and new year in previous years.)

"Oh I'll be doing exactly what I usually do Tanya."

"Well enjoy that."

"I will Tanya. Thank you Tanya."

"Ok then..." I maneuvered to get past him and up the stairs to my place.

"I heard you playing the piano the other day Tanya," he added. "It was very nice Tanya. I'd like to hear more Tanya!"

"Thank you Gottfried. I was revisiting some Janis Ian."

"Well whatever it was, it was very nice. You should play more often Tanya."

He looked pleased with himself.

Compared to some of the exchanges we've had in the past, this one was quite pleasant. Since we have locked gates on the front of the property, people don't wander in and park in his vacant car space either. Perhaps this has relieved some ever-pressing stress.

Do you know your neighbours?

Playing in the park

I worked yesterday. On a beautiful sunny Sunday afternoon. I didn't mind a bit. In fact, I had a blast. I'd been engaged to provide some unusual entertainment at a group's Christmas Party.

The brief was to lead a group of people, who are used to speaking in public, in some "impro". Initially my heart raced. To many people watching any form of improvisation, it can seem like a piece of cake. It is - if you practise and train and hone your craft. It's not something that you just walk up and start doing. Whenever we watch skilled experts doing anything, they make it look easy and we often think we can just start at the same level. (This seems to happen with actors more than musicians).

I've learned that good improvisation has rules (which may seem counter-intuitive) and that there's an essential mindset that must be developed. These rules are quite opposite to how much of the world generally operates: "there are no mistakes", "say 'YES'", "don't edit, go with your instinct" and so on. So what to do with a group of novices for two hours at the Christmas party?

Start simple and emphasise fun and the value of letting go and trying stuff.  Before long people were removing - or rearranging - items of clothing, moving wildly to music, creating a barnyard of animals (everything from mosquitos to crocodiles, dogs to pigs and a koala who just hung onto a tree). We created an orchestra where every person was an instrument which had only one sound.

While we were hanging around waiting for everyone to arrive, as they introduced themselves, several people took the opportunity to put caveats on the extent of the participation for the afternoon:  "I don't sing." "I like watching, but don't want to do anything." "I'm not funny." "Just don't make me...[insert specific fear here]." As the afternoon progressed, I noticed that as more fun was had, inhibitions faded away and people threw themselves in. There were some genuinely funny moments as self-consciousness slipped away and people were appreciated for their offers.

There were some children also participating and they provided excellent instruction for the adults. Children don't hesitate to throw their bodies and souls into anything imaginative. At one point we were doing a word at a time story. It was pretty whacky already and then one of the children added a word which was unexpected. An adult "corrected" the child and offered the word that most of the group was probably expecting. Disappointment and fear flitted across her face. I asked her for her word again which she offered and that was the word incorporated as I reminded the group that there are no mistakes and the mantra is "yes". The level of discomfort in the group rose and then ebbed as the story progressed anyway.

I started thinking about how exciting the unexpected can be and wondering why our default is often to steer things to be how we expect them. I suppose it's a fear and a desire to control.

At the end of the afternoon, people were singing Christmas carols with the lyrics taken from the "Chairman's Guide to Meetings and Organisations" and "Real Estate Mistakes". Suddenly any idea that "I don't sing solo" had disappeared and people asked to have a go.

This was the perfect place to finish. For a couple of hours, the people had been able to play freely. Working in the beautiful gardens on a sunny Sunday afternoon, playing with people, was the best place I could have been. I love my work.

When was the last time you played?

Christmas balls

(c) divacultura 2012

I've been knitting these Christmas baubles for the last few weeks as gifts.  That's why there hasn't been much action on my "What I've made" page.  You'll get to see each one soon.

Have a great day!

Down town in the Country Music Capital - puppies and music.

Today I braved the Christmas shoppers in Tamworth.  It wasn't too bad actually, except for the carpark.    People lose their minds in shopping centre carparks, walking behind vehicles which have poor vision at the back, leaving shopping trolleys to partially block car spaces which are already too small for anything other than a city sized vehicle.  And we're not in the city.  Every second vehicle is a large 4WD with a bull bar on the front making it even larger.

I noticed the newsagency had more horse magazines than I would usually expect to see.  Bunnings was packed with people but the lady selling the charity Christmas cakes was not very busy.  The junior staff at the supermarket were very friendly and didn't begrudge the presence of customers.  I bought a funky skirt for $16.

In the pet store I was pleased to see no animals for sale.  There were three puppies and one cat available for adoption.  They had been surrendered to the RSPCA.  After having a health check, temperament tests and vaccinations they are desexed and microchipped and put up for adoption.  There were two Kelpie-cross puppies from the same litter: one was an extrovert, barking happily at anyone who went by and the other was shy, just sitting and looking out.  We wondered what they had been crossed with because their ears were enormous - perhaps a beagle or some kind of spaniel.  Next door was a Jack Russell pup (called Antonio) who was resting when I saw him.  Each animal has a written history and description of what their temperament is like and what kind of lifestyle they would fit with.  

I spoke with one of the staff in the store and she told me that they also do checks on potential new owners.  She has regularly refused adoption and she told me she is often abused by some breeders who are unhappy with the RSPCA.  I was very pleased to know that this responsible approach is taken to . animals and ownership and that this particular store will have nothing to do with puppy factories.

The staff member also told me that twenty-five dogs had been surrendered in the last week.  It's a timely reminder that pet ownership should be a conscious decision and shouldn't be taken lightly.  Animals are not a commodity or a product.  They are living creatures with feelings and should not be thought of as disposable.  

I didn't ask what happens to the animals which aren't adopted, but I'm sure we all know.

Want a share a bench with Smokey Dawson?
(c) divacultura 2012

At the other end of town, I came across this wonderful sculpture of country music legend Smokey Dawson.  I really like the character of the piece.  Seeing it left me in no doubt that I was in the country music capital!

If this is how Smokey looked in real life, I reckon he would have been a great storyteller.
Look at the life in his face and eyes!
(c) divacultura 2012

Change of scene, change of schedule

I'm writing this post from a desk with  different view from what is usually in front of me.  Usually I'm at my kitchen table with nothing but a wall in front of me.  Today, I'm looking out at a paddock, with hills in the distance.  There's a long green shed in the middle distance with a red container parked next to it.  Occasionally I see vehicles go by on the highway.  A little blue bird is standing in front of the window  showing me its tail.  Horses wander by and now I feel the softness of a cat as one winds its way around my ankles.  The sky is cloudy.  Some of them are black and heavy looking.  There's a faint roll of thunder in the distance.  Apart from that the only sounds are the ticking of a clock and the breathing of the air conditioner.  And the sound of my typing.

Over the summer break, my posting won't be as frequent while I relax and regroup.  I certainly won't be posting daily!  The best way to make sure you don't miss a thing is to subscribe via email - that way you'll receive an email whenever I do post something and you'll know about it straight away.  (There's a button over on the right hand side.  Yes!  Right there!  Just type in your email address, click and go.)

If you need a fix, why not visit the archives and see what you can find?  There's lots to read.  Two of my personal favourites are a response to spam email I received in October last year:Love in the letterbox and The Rejection Letter.  Another favourite is a result of an exercise in imagination: Journey to the tenth floor

There are also suggestions at the end of each post which link to other posts.  Sometimes I just follow a trail and enjoy the journey.  Or you can just look at the pictures.  The Sunday Slideshow posts have lots!  Start here.

Thank you to my readers - I just love knowing that you're out there.  I love receiving your feedback and hearing your stories too.  I've enjoyed making you smile and laugh.  I've enjoyed provoking you. I've enjoyed the ability to occasionally give you things.  I've enjoyed sharing my perspective of the world.

Walking around these days I notice more and more that people have their eyes down and are absorbed in their screens.  I've made a conscious choice to be fully present in the world with my eyes up and my attention OUT THERE.  This is why I notice so much and can share it with you.

Whatever you do at this time of year, I hope it brings you joy or gives someone else joy.  Stay safe and happy reading!

The rain has just arrived.  The hills are still bathed in sunlight in the distance and the shrubs outside are squeaking as they scrape against the windows.  The thunder is rumbling more deeply and the birds have taken cover.

ETA:  10 minutes later:  the rain is pelting and I can't see the hills or the long green shed.  I can barely hear myself think over the sound of rain on the roof and windows.  Bliss.

Something in the air?

Christmas could be an opportunity for people to be nice to each other.  For strangers to smile at others in the street.  For people to stand aside and let someone pass.  For us to look up and see each other!  It would be a Christmas miracle.

I've had the dubious pleasure over the last couple of weeks of needing to keep conventional office hours for a particular project on which I'm working.  This has involved hitting the train and Flinders Street Station right in the middle of the morning peak.  Once I've survived that first odyssey, I then make my way to what might be the busiest tram stop in Melbourne.  On a platform that barely holds the crush, I wait for the number 1 tram to South Melbourne Beach as I am elbowed and jostled by the surge.  There's only one thing worse than this surge - the angry surge when the tram is too packed and people are left behind.  It's not a long wait between trams at that time of the morning, but why wait two extra minutes where you will endure the elbows and glares of your fellow travellers, when you could be pressed to a stranger's arm pit with one side of your face and mashed against the door with the other?

There is always a queue to exit Flinders Street Station at the top end, the end nearest the Yarra River.  That side still has old metcard gates that are slow to work with the myki card and it can take a long time to get through.  I figure everyone's in the same boat, so you just need to be patient and wait your turn.  This view is not shared by everyone in Melbourne.  I know! Shocking to discover!

I joined a queue and while I was waiting one of the staff came and switched the gate next to me so that we could use it to exit.  (Before he did this it was set so that only people wanting to come in could use it.)  As it happened, I was able to step up and be the first person in that line.  (No, I did not shoulder charge anyone, I just stepped across and that's how it worked out.)  I touched my myki to the reader and nothing at all happened.  I held it still, bearing in mind the detailed operating instructions every myki user must know - I didn't swipe, wave, jiggle, show, tap or fling.  I touched and held still.  Nothing.

Behind me I heard a woman's voice.  Apparently she'd been screaming at me for the last three seconds and I only noticed when she poked me in the back.  "GO THROUGH! Can't you just GO THROUGH?  LADY?  GO THROUGH!!!!!"

I realised she was speaking to me.  I turned and was about to explain that I needed to touch off to ensure I was charged correctly, but it was a bit hard with a fire breathing dragon behind me.  I said nothing and stood my ground and touched my myki to the reader again.  Mercifully, it worked and as I walked through, the dragon surged past still screaming at me to GO THROUGH! LADY!

I just shook my head.  For goodness' sake.

"Some people!" I looked up.  A young man had spoken.  He looked at me sympathetically.  I smiled.

"You heard that woman?" I asked.

"Yes!  Can't believe that would happen in Melbourne."

"Maybe she's not from Melbourne.  Maybe there's something in the air."

"Maybe there's something wrong with her."

"Well, there might be.  So that's her problem."

"Yeah."

As I wished him an excellent day, we came face to face with dragon woman who had by now secured a wide perimeter around herself and was glaring at everyone.  I felt the urge to say something - or elbow her out of the way - but decided to stay out of her way.

The last I saw of her she was burrowing her way onto an over crowded tram.  Glaring at all in her path.  I wondered how long it would take before she pushed someone too far.

******
I arrived home and discovered my crazy neighbour arguing with the very nice man who had spent the last two days replacing the old analogue television antennae with new digital ones.  It had been a big job and Antennae Man was friendly and even-tempered.  When Gottfried accused him of microwaving us, Antennae Man just continued repeating the words "television" and "reception".  He slipped once and said "satellite" which led to a re-opening of the microwave question.  Antenna Man regrouped quickly and went back to his mantra - "television", "reception". This time I noticed he was shaking his head.

Quitting sugar - Christmas party challenge

Yesterday there was a Christmas lunch at my new workplace.  Everyone brought food, including an incredible array of desserts.  There was everything from pavlova to cheesecake, strawberry moose to cupcakes, as well as Christmas pudding and custard.  All home made by staff.

I used to love cheesecake and pavlova, but this week, I wasn't even tempted!  When I was asked why I wasn't having dessert, I patiently explained that I don't eat sugar.  I'm becoming accustomed to the reactions now - they range from the innocuous to the intense looks that suggest people think you are weird and the mocking statements.  These statements usually sound something like, "You can't give up sugar!" or "Come on! It's Christmas! A little bit won't hurt you!" or "Oh yeah...is that some strange new diet fad?"

I'm refining my reaction to this.  Sometimes a polite refusal is sufficient.  With some people this just puts more fuel on the fire.  If I've been asked a question, I usually ask the other person whether they are interested in my rationale for giving up sugar.  If they say they are, then I'll give them a quick summary of why sugar is bad.  If they're not interested in finding out I'll usually just shrug and remind them that I'm not questioning or judging their food choices.

So there I was, surrounded by sugar and it wasn't even difficult to resist!  It's seven weeks since I've had sugar and it's very exciting and reassuring to know that my body and my mind have adjusted and I just don't want it anymore.  Interestingly, probably the hardest thing for me to resist were the juicy fresh cherries!

It would be difficult to quit sugar just before Christmas and be in the first two weeks of withdrawal right now.  I think I may have caved in and tried a piece of cheesecake if I'd been in that situation.  I hope I wouldn't, but I think I might.  Anyway, that's not the situation I'm in and that's good.  My challenge is that I will be through the 8 week quit program and technically will be allowed to reintroduce sugar if I wish.  I aim to stick with the cherries and avoid the pavlova.

What's your Christmas sugar avoidance strategy?

Wardrobe malfunction of the intimate kind - now I understand the term "travelling pants".

This post is about underwear.  My underwear.  Specifically, my underpants,  knickers, undies, panties, grundies, pantaloons, bloomers - whatever name you prefer to give them.

I had a very unhappy relationship with them today.  Not for the whole day.  The bad behaviour specifically commenced as I arrived at the train station.  To be clear, the problems started when I was just far enough from home to make turning back and throwing the evil creatures (should that be plural or singular?) on the fire.  I don't actually have a fire to throw them on.  It would be a metaphorical fire - probably just the bin, but I would have flames of anger in my eyes as I put them there.  Alternatively they would have gone in the laundry basket, eventually been washed, and then made their way back to my underwear drawer.  From this drawer I would pull them out again in a few weeks' time and stare at them with narrowed eyes, trying to remember whether this was the badly behaved pair, or just another pair that looks like any other pair.  My memory would fail and I would put them on.

This is clearly what happened this morning.  I'm fairly certain that I've spent at least one day before doing battle with my under garments.

The morning started like any other - I woke up to the alarm, headed straight for the shower, put my pyjamas back on to eat breakfast, do my teeth, hair and makeup, before finally putting my clothes on.  Now the underpants in question looked normal in the beginning.  Even after I put them on and walked around the house, everything was fine.  There was NO SIGN of what was to come.  Kind of like a relationship where everyone's on their best behaviour in the beginning and it's all down hill from there.

Just as I reached the train station and began walking up the steps to the pedestrian overpass, the waistband started to roll.  I learned today that a rolling pantie waistband is like a snowball - it gathers momentum and there's little that can be done about it.  This was a fairly dangerous position to be in, considering the rest of my outfit comprised of a dress.  If the snowball reached the bottom of the mountain, so to speak, the potential for surprise was great.

I took the opportunity of what I characterised as the relative privacy of the pedestrian overpass to readjust.  I like to call this manoeuvre "hoiking".  For example: "Taking cover between the galvanised fencing of the pedestrian overpass, I hoiked my underpants up, once and for all."  The last part of this sentence is just wishful thinking.  I spent the day hoiking.  It was disconcerting.  And not just for me.  I should also confirm that the privacy of the pedestrian overpass is relative to thinking that when you're driving your car and picking your nose, no one can see you.

By the time I arrived at my place of work for the day, I was fairly certain that I hadn't read the instructions properly and had somehow put them on upside down.  The other possibility was that they were haunted.  I don't even want to contemplate that.

As a result of my problem, I was extremely efficient.  I spent the day glued to my desk chair and achieved quite a bit.  The only time I left my desk was for the three hour Christmas lunch function we had today.  I quickly found a chair at a table and was not going to move.  Until I discovered the Kris Kringle routine and realised that it would involve me walking to the Christmas tree in front of fifty of my new colleagues, while my underpants continued their practical joke.  I seriously contemplated removing them all together, but the combination of wearing a white dress and the presence of nuns suggested that this was not a solution.

I devised a better one.  I would grip my waist with my forearms and just hold everything up and together.  This meant it was extremely difficult to collect a gift from under the tree, but because I'm new, I think everyone was beating themselves up about not noticing the weird arm disability that I have.  Everyone was too polite to say anything.  I hope prayers are being said in the name of my healing.

I planned to rip these traitorous knickers off as soon as I arrived home, but the phone rang and I was distracted.  I'm STILL WEARING THEM.  Some hours later.  They seem to only misbehave when I go out.  Oh and the cut is totally misnamed.  On the label it says "hipsters". In my book, that means they're meant to wrap around the hips, not the knees - or worse, the ankles!  I'm pretty sure "anklets" are socks and I've never HEARD of "kneesters".  Although they sound more hip than they should.  Perhaps I should market them for the hipsters to wear with their drop crotch jeans.

And I can't believe there was a film called "The sisterhood of the travelling pants".  Who would make a movie about this?

First day on the job - & some things I noticed.

I started a new job today.  It's a part time project management role to develop a simulated learning environment in the mental health context - all subjects I'm very interested in.  I'm still doing everything else too!

On one hand it's been a while since I had a first day at work; on the other hand, everytime I turn up to work with a new client or a new group of people, it's almost like the first day at work.

My welcome was warm and people were expecting me.  They even knew what I was there to do.  The organisation I'm working with has a very strong sense of purpose and clarity about it's culture and values.  It's wonderful to step into such a strong culture.

The setting is great - right near two intersecting tram routes about five stops from the CBD. And there's this:

Courtyard garden at my new workplace - complete with tables, umbrellas and general loveliness.
(c) divacultura 2012

On my way to work, the old steam puffer that was en route to St Vincent's Hospital with a cargo of Christmas gifts went past.  I was at the tram stop on St Kilda Road between Federation Square and Flinders Street Station.  It was travelling very slowly and had slowed traffic coming over the Westgate Bridge during the morning peak.  (I catch public transport, so wasn't affected, but it had been all over the radio.)

There is a sign on the back proclaiming this as a :slow moving vehicle".
Very accurate
(c) divacultura 2012

After dinner in Chinatown last night, I discovered the water dragon sculpture which adorns the facade of the Chinese Museum.  It is made from recycled plastic bottles.  Its body ripples up about three storeys.  i think it's wonderful.

Water dragon
(c) divacultura 2012

Queuing at the post office

Yesterday I went on my pilgrimage to collect my mail from my post office box.  I've had the same box since I moved to Melbourne almost thirteen years ago.  The staff know me and I know the staff.  If there's time, we often stop to have a chat.  

There was a card for a registered letter in my box so I needed to go to the window and sign for it.  There were about four people in the queue ahead of me.  Jessica, the manager, was cheerfully and efficiently serving - gathering signatures, checking identification and handing over parcels and letters.

I was two people from the front when the man at the front was asked what he was expecting as Jessica tried to find the parcel.  He said he had no idea.  A few minutes later Jessica appeared with an enormous box on a trolley.  

"Are you sure that's for me?" he asked.  "Who could it be from?"

"Santa!" I piped up from the back.  He thought that was hilarious as did Jessica.  The person standing behind him and in front of me in the queue was strangely silent and clearly thought I was weird.  

"Is it from Europe?" he asked as he tried to interpret the labels.

The paperwork was signed, the identification checked and the parcel was his.  He picked it up and felt its heft.  He shook it a little bit and listened.  

He looked around at his audience.

"Should I open it now? I should open it, shouldn't I!"  

I love a bit of public spectacle, but I thought it could easily end in tears.  Personally, I never publicly open a parcel that's arrived in the mail unless I know exactly what it is.  The potential for deep embarrassment is large.

"Yes!  Go on!  Open it!" I urged.

He thought better of it and left with his mysterious package.

Jessica greeted me by name as she always does and told me she was feeling jealous with all the people receiving parcels.

"I never get any presents working here," she said with a sparkle in her eye as she went to retrieve my letter.

I pulled out one of my gratitude cards and when she returned, I gave it to her and thanked her for her cheerful service throughout the year.  She was thrilled.  I told her about the project and she thought it was great.  She sincerely thanked me.  

I asked her about her Christmas plans and she said they have a big one every second year (some of her family is overseas).  This year was to be a small one and they were thinking about lovely things to do or give to each other that wouldn't cost a lot of money.  This year's plan was to write a letter to a member of the family which they would then read to each other over Christmas lunch.  The letter would speak about all the wonderful things about the person and their relationship.  I thought that was a brilliant idea.  

After thinking about it for a while, my wicked humour kicked in and I thought of all the ways it could go hilariously wrong and end in chaos.  I hope it doesn't for Jessica's family.

Thanks to all the Australia Post staff who make sure I receive my mail and wish me happy birthday and merry Christmas as they see the parcels come through.  And it's great to know that Santa uses Australia Post as his preferred delivery partner.

Christmas lights - Am I the Grinch?

Going around my neighbourhood at night I've been both delighted and confounded by the Christmas lights decorating houses.  Delighted because some of them are pretty and imaginative; confounded because I can't imagine what the electricity bill must be like.  Against the backdrop of continuing bad news about what human activity is doing to our planet, I start to be grumpy.

When I've had this conversation about whether we can really afford electricity consumption (sourced from the burning of brown coal in Victoria) with some people, they accuse me of being anti-Christmas, a Grinch even, and tell me to lighten up. "It's Christmas!" they exclaim.

I know it's Christmas.  I love the ideas that Christmas can represent - family, giving, love, music. I don't love the ideas that it often does represent - consumption, selfishness, debt, over-indulgence.

There are competitions run in the local press that encourage whole streets to light up and go on display.  Not only does this consume (unnecessary) electricity but people often drive around in their petrol fuelled cars to look.  It's an environmental problem even before we look at the manufacture, transport and packaging of all the lights.

What I'd really love to see is someone on the roof pedaling a bicycle to power the lights.  Now wouldn't that be something?  Dressed as Santa or not, it would be amazing to see the true spirit of Christmas represented by people lighting up the world in a way that minimises harm to the planet.  Imagine a whole neighbourhood participating!  Every household taking shifts on a line up of bikes that powers the lights.  Visitors would be asked to donate some time on the bikes as their contribution to the pretty Christmas display.  The lights could even be dimmed for effect by pedaling slower.

I know that this is just a flight of fancy.  Probably.  But I do like to imagine ways to make the world better.  I don't do Christmas lights.  I light a candle every evening and I keep doing this even at Christmas time.  I also like to provoke people to think differently about things that we may not spend time thinking about.

Do you do Christmas lights?  What do you think...am I the Grinch?

With Christmas upon us, you may like to read last year's post about gift wrapping and ways to be environmentally considerate.

Christmas windows - how do they happen?

As I walked out of the building after 6pm today where I'd been working with a corporate client, a team of about twelve people, dressed in yellow high visibility vests, were putting up the Christmas tree.

There they were, a strangely mismatched family.  There was one woman amongst eleven men and she was busy unpacking the boxes.  The men were busily unfurling the branches and leaves of the Christmas tree itself.  The frame for the tree was standing ready and it was very large.  I wondered how long it would take to erect the tree, let alone to decorate it.

Two older men were standing up and deep in conversation as they fiddled and twiddled their sprigs of spruce.  Another young man, sat to one side, grimly intent on his task.  There was something incongruous about the men at this task, but I can't quite work out what it was.  It made me smile.

I remember putting together my brother's Christmas tree last year.  It was very large, but it took quite a bit of time.  Not reading the instructions or having an understanding of the basic shape of a pine tree  made the task more difficult.  It may have taken me about an hour.  I can't imagine when the task will be finished for these workers.  The tree was probably going to be five times larger (at least) and there would probably be hundreds of pieces to put in place.

I wonder whether these people like their work.  They may be staff of the organisation, but they looked more like a team of people who go around doing window displays and it just happens to be Christmas displays at this time of year.  I wonder if they enjoy their work.  Do they take pleasure in this seasonal tradition?

I imagine them returning to a home bare of any decoration.  Certainly there would be nothing requiring assembly at their place.  I wonder what they gather around on Christmas morning at their place.

Personally I enjoy the colour and cheer Christmas decorations bring, but I don't often decorate my own home.  I don't like the waste and consumption that often goes with cheap, quick decorations.  I'd rather have one, very special, treasured ornament that is displayed each year and carefully laid away until the following year.

Gone are the days of spraying "Santa snow" on the windows of the house.  It's summer here, so that makes no sense at all!  But I do love to put some Christmas music on the stereo to sing along to.  I know it's inconsistent, but imitating Bing Crosby's "White Christmas" croon, makes me feel silly and Christmassy.

What's your approach to Christmas decorations?  Do you have a tree?  Real or plastic?  How about lights?  Do you drain the eastern seaboard of electricity when you flick the Christmas switch or perhaps you light a candle with a thought of someone special?

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas!

Season's Greetings (and publication schedule)

This post is the 134th for divacultura.  I started writing at the end of July this year with the commitment to write daily with a view to toning up my writing muscles and creating a habit.  I've done pretty well on this commitment and on the odd occasion when a couple of days have been missed (usually due to interstate work) it's been lovely to receive enquiries from friends of divacultura, noting my absence and checking that I was still alive.

It's not just about me though and I've been pleased to receive great regular feedback which has been supportive and encouraged me to keep going.  It's so satisfying to know that I've tickled your funny bone, poked your sense of outrage, caused you to nod your head in agreement or shake your head is disagreement.  Whether you've commented on the blog, liked on facebook or followed me on Twitter, thank you for joining the conversation and for inspiring me.

Merry Christmas to all of my readers.  I wish you safe travels and joy, however you spend the time.  I look forward to continuing to share my stories with you.

Publication of divacultura will be less frequent than daily over the Christmas period.  Just putting it out there!

A little Christmas music

Last night I had a little burst of Christmas music.  The vocal group I sing with (Living out Loud) hosted a concert and party for our friends and family.  I don't have any family living in Melbourne, so it meant a lot that friends came and shared the evening.

And it was an opportunity to glam up for the occasion.

You can see the white flower which I had to hunt for in the crush of  Christmas shoppers.
(and yes, it's another self portrait with iphone.)

I have previously written about the enjoyment of singing in a group - this group in particular.  Last night felt very good and relaxed.  I could tell we were sounding good because the tingle-ator was working overtime.  What's a tingle-ator?  When the harmonies and the energies of the group are working really well together you can feel it on your skin.  Goose flesh might rise, hairs stand on end and everything goes tingly.  This happened to  me several times last night.  What an endorphine rush!

One of the things I love about singing with this group is the relaxed approach to performance.  A relaxed approach does not mean that we're not serious about making beautiful music together it just means that we allow our personalities to shine through in the performance itself.  There was banter (some may call it sledging) between the singers last night and it made the audience laugh and enjoy the show more.  To cool the room down during interval we had turned on a very large fan.  It sounded like a jet engine and was also playing havoc with the hair styles of the (female) tenors. They were beginning to remind me of Phyllis Diller when she did her hair with an egg beater.  I'm sure you get my drift.   Across the other side of the stage was the bass section, all of whom are follicularly challenged and were therefore unruffled.  The request to swap sides of the stage seemed fair.  We turned the fan off instead.

The second half of the concert was an opportunity to share some Christmas music.  Our conductor led the audience and choir in an improvisation which sounded fantastic!  The looks of concentration on the faces of audience members was something to behold but the pay off came at the end when they all beamed with joy, surprise and satisfaction at the glorious sounds they had just made together.  Perhaps their tingle-ators were also working and they were able to experience the feeling of singing together with other human beings.

The improvisation was the warm up for choir led renditions of the "Coventry Carol" and "Silent Night" as well as the joyful African song "Ho-no-no" and a bit of retro chic in "Feliz Navidad".

Food and drink brought by the singers was shared by all and it was a truly lovely finish to our singing year.

They say that a measure of the strength and quality of a community is the number of choirs that it has.  I'm not surprised!  People who may otherwise not cross paths come together for the intense and magical experience of harmonising together.  It's a deeply bonding and emotional experience.  Some Saturday mornings I resent having to wake up and drag myself to rehearsal, but I never drag myself home.  It's the ultimate pick-me-up.

If you've never done it, why not find a group to sing with in 2012?  It can change your life.

Suburban shopping with a dose of karma

My confession for today is that I willingly entered a suburban shopping centre to complete my Christmas shopping and satisfy my need for a white flower (part of my costume for this evening's vocal group performance).  Today of all days!  The last Sunday before Christmas Day.

Preparation was the key and I arrived five minutes after the opening time of 10am.  Already the prime parking spots were taken, but I was able to park within a few minutes of arriving.  Determined shoppers made a beeline for the entries.  They looked like they had a plan and knew exactly where they were going. Just like me really.  In and out was the plan.

I managed to complete my shopping within 90 minutes of arriving and was feeling pleased enough to observe the place.  It was no longer easy to zoom through the pedestrian thoroughfares.  It was now an obstacle course of aimless wanderers, people too absorbed in their phones to notice the real people within their vicinity, people with prams flanked by an emu parade of energised toddlers and slouching teenagers and people flogging beauty products.  Standing in the middle of a shopping centre is exactly where I want to have my nails buffed by the miracle buffer or be manhandled by an ugly 20 year old man trying to flirt with me as he tries to rub moisturiser onto me.

The kids at Boost juice were having fun by turning up the music to drown out the sound of the blenders (that is, loud enough to make your ears bleed) and showing no awareness of the resulting cacophony assaulting passers-by.

As part of a Christmas promotion, any purchase of more than $10 entitled shoppers to go in the draw to win $10,000 (handy at any time).  In a clever marketing strategy, you could also see if you'd won an instant prize. In most cases this required spending more money in a particular shop.  I swapped a jewellery voucher for a coffee voucher and gave a maternity voucher to a woman who clearly needed it more than I did.  The coffee voucher was a two for one and as I was on my own (and wanted to get out of there as soon as possible) I stalked the line of people waiting at the relevant store.  Two sad looking men were standing there.  I walked up and smiled and offered the voucher to the first man.  He looked  at me as though I had just offered him an envelope of anthrax.  The second man in the queue nodded, took the voucher and didn't meet my eyes.  I wished him merry Christmas, he said nothing in reply and continued to avoid my eyes.

I figured I may as well give the vouchers to someone who might use them rather than just put them in the bin. The least they could say is "thanks".  Actually, the least they could say was nothing at all; this is the option they chose.

These shopping centres are quite like airports in their vibe - closed in, bustling environments with a hum of constant noise bouncing off all the hard surfaces.  And people wandering around.  At least the airport is just a jumping off point in the journey to another destination.  The shopping centre seems to be the destination itself.

When I walked out to find my car, many more cars were driving in circles trying vainly to find a place to park.    I felt their eyes lock on me as soon as they saw me as a shopper with bags heading away from the shopping centre.  They started to drive very slowly behind me, trying to read my direction from slight twitches in my body language.  The trouble was I wasn't completely sure of exactly where I had parked the car, so a few people may have misread my twitches.  I didn't hear the sound of crunching metal, but I did hear the sound of screeching brakes when I tripped over my car.  She was so excited, you'd think I'd just told her she'd won the $10,000.

Christmas cake - done!

The cake is out of the oven.  Smells fantastic!

Eco friendly gift wrapping ideas

Most of my Christmas shopping is now done.  So is the wrapping.  This is down to two reasons:

1. I have limited financial resources.
2. I used the free gift wrapping offered in store.

Usually I go for a united theme in my gift wrapping so that anyone looking under the tree can tell what's come from me.  One year I spent hours wrapping everything in brown paper then clear cellophane with a sprinkling of Christmas star confetti in between, topped with coordinated curling ribbon.  They looked beautiful but made a mess when opened and there was such a lot of waste!

This year my united theme is "someone else wrapped it".

There are lots of options for this.  Many stores offer free gift wrapping as a matter of course. Sometimes you have to have the branding of the store on the outside of the parcel.  Often this is quite lovely if done thoughtfully.  The white parcel in this photo is an example of this - purchased and wrapped at the wonderful local treasure, Sedonia.

The navy and gold one is a particular favourite, not because the wrapping particularly fancy, but because of the precision with which it was wrapped.  My favourite city book store, Reader's Feast, is open again and offers this stylish and fuss-free gift wrapping.

The young man providing the service was reading a book about oceanography in between wrapping.  He was Japanese and sprang into focussed action as I presented the item for wrapping (and the receipt to prove that it was actually now mine to have wrapped).  He sized up the article and then precisely cut the exact amount of paper.  He very carefully and squarely, placed the gift in the exact spot on the paper and then proceeded to fold and crease and tape.  His head was bent very close to this work.  He didn't just fold the flap of paper over, he folded and creased and caressed with the level of attention an engineer would use to build a bridge.  The corners were a work of art in themselves, symmetrical and neat.  He quickly cut the smallest amount of tape and placed it just so.  A beautifully wrapped square.  He's probably an origami master in his other life.

I thanked him for his beautiful work and wished him Merry Christmas.  His face broke into a wide smile and he bowed slightly.  I could have watched him all day.

I guess he has it made, working as a gift wrapper in a book store.  I mean everything is going to be square or rectangular and pretty easy to wrap.  No lumpy bits, soft bits or weird angles to contend with in a bookstore.

I do love thinking of different ways to present gifts as I think the presentation of the gift is as much a part of the gift as the gift itself.  However, I just don't want to have to purchase more stuff that I then have to store somewhere for a whole year before I use it again.  And I am concerned about packaging generally as a waste of resources, so I now try to apply this to my personal packaging.

So here are my eco-friendly gift wrapping ideas:

• Don't wrap at all.  Just present the gift. Wrapped in love of course.

• Reuse wrapping that you've retrieved from gifts, shopping, packaging.

• Buy reusable bags and place gifts in these.  The bags then become part of the gift and can be used over and over by the recipient.  One year I bought a whole lot being sold as a fundraiser for the Royal Children's Hospital.  They came in a range of gorgeous colour combinations and were only a couple of dollars each. 

• Choose gifts that don't require wrapping or are impossible to wrap - plants, food, vouchers.  

• If you're a cook and giving your goods as gifts, choose a reusable tin, cannister, bottle or other container to put them in.

• Use the gorgeous pages from last year's calendar as wrapping.  I also use this throughout the year for birthday gifts.  It's often particularly appreciated where the correct month is used.  This is never possible in June!

• Pillowcases make excellent Santa sacks.  I remember as a child we each had our own with a Christmas picture on it which was instantly recognisable, usually with a jolly image of Santa on a roof carrying a big sack of presents.  If you're handy with a needle and thread you could personalise these with initials, names or other appliqued images or use fabric paint and get artistic.

• A pretty tea towel, fine handkerchief, table cloth, apron or face washer make excellent wrapping that also have useful after-lives.

• Depending where you live and quarantine rules, big leaves can work as natural wrapping. They can be composted in the garden afterwards.

How do you wrap your gifts for giving?  Do you consider the planet?  What's the best idea you've had or seen?

Editted to add (9:20am 14 December 2011):

Overnight I thought of some other wrapping options for things that can have an afterlife:

• sarongs
• scarfs
• wall paper 
• magazine pages 
• newspaper (thanks to Angela for this suggestion 
• brown paper bags can be decorated (thanks Kellie) - even better if you can re-use rather than buy
• re-purpose a shoe box (or any other box).