Moggie Madness

Wow what a week! It seems to have absolutely flown by and before I knew it, it was time for another 52 Blessings post. This Friday I was very fortunate to go and see Deni Hines and James Morrison performing live as part of their “The Other Woman” tour…..a mix of jazz and blues music from the 1950s. I play the cornet myself, although I know I will never be in the same league as James Morrison, but he was my inspiration for choosing to play a brass instrument. He is absolutely awesome and if you ever get a chance to see him on one of his tours, just do it!

I would have loved to have gotten a snapshot of James on stage but being that he was performing in the concert hall, it was strictly no flash photography. Hence the photos of the ticket stubs instead.

If by any chance you have no idea who I’m talking about, the tour website should clear things up for you. There’s a sampling of music on there. I particularly like “Too Darn Hot” - very apt for the Australian summer don’t you think?

As an early Christmas gift, my mum shouted me a couple of tickets to the final performance of The Nutcracker by Queensland Ballet. This was my first time to a ballet and I wasn’t really sure what to expect. Sure I had been to Swan Lake on Ice earlier this year and I enjoyed that, so I thought why not. It was an enjoyable evening and more than once, I found myself thinking that male ballet artists must be awfully confident creatures - those tights they were wearing in the latter part of the ballet certainly lived up to their name! I’m pretty sure that if any of them had an inkling of cellulite or flabby flesh, it certainly wasn’t on their legs! But my other half and I pondered the following on the way home:

1. We all know females who do ballet are called ballerinas but what do they call the men? Ballerinamen?? Ballamen?? Ballarets??
2. How do the men stop their private parts from jostling about when they do all their jumps, twists and spins?? We figure there must be a pocket to pop them in at the front of the tights because it was pretty clear that they certainly were not wearing any underwear (no visible panty line, even of a G-string).
3. Is there a weight limit on female ballerinas?? And do male ballet stars have to be able to bench press their own weight to be considered for professional touring??
4. After doing the equivalent of a decent cardio workout, a significant weight circuit and performing under very hot lights, why weren’t any of them sweating?? They were breathing heavy but I couldn’t see a single sweat patch anywhere on their costumes. Is there some kind of hard core ballet deodorant that we don’t know about? If so, where can I get it?

Tis a puzzlement….at least to me. If anyone has any ideas on any of the above, feel free to share below!

(Image courtesy of Queensland Ballet)

I was trolling through the big bad web out there looking for a particular Irish CD and what should I find but a website for Irish Drinking Songs for Cat Lovers. Yes that’s right, you can have all your favourite Irish drinking songs on the one CD all rewritten to a cat theme.

I kid you not. When Irish Eyes are Smiling has become When Kitty Eyes are Smiling. Forget Lord of the Dance, the new version is Lord of the Pounce. *hehe*

Perfect gift for the cat mad person who has everything else already, even better if they’re a fan of the Irish like I am.

I had intended on including this video in the post but it keeps interfering with my layout, which is just plain annoying me. Here is a photo of the lovely girls from Celtic Woman.

What fantastic voices they have….they never cease to amaze me. I think they would be amazing live on stage.

Music was a large part of my life growing up so it should come as no surprise that I really love musical theatre. While other kids were getting spoiled with games consoles for presents, my idea of getting spoiled was a trip to Sydney to see Phantom of the Opera, Pirates of Penzance, Joseph and the Technicolour Dreamcoat, Les Miserables or even Miss Saigon. Oh and who could forget South Pacific?

But my favourite would have to be the one I have never ever seen live on stage - Cats. I remember watching an episode of The Nanny when it was in its hey day and one of the quips was always that the producer was the idiot who passed up on Cats. If there was such a person, then they would have well and truly been kicking themselves - by 2000 when if finally closed, the show had been running on Broadway for around 20 years.

Of course Cats is based on T S Eliot’s work, Old Possum’s Book of Practical Cats - and the following is part of the opening verse, “The Naming Of Cats”.

But above and beyond there’s still one name left over and that is the name that you never will guess;
The name that no human research can discover - but THE CAT HIMSELF KNOWS, and will never confess.
When you notice a cat in profound meditation, the reason, I tell you, is always the same:
His mind is engaged in a rapt contemplation of the thought, of the thought, of the thought of his name:
His ineffable, effable, effanineffable, deep and inscrutable singular Name.

- T S Eliot

I’m not really big on poetry but this book will always have a place on my shelf.