Hmmm, week two of 'sitting on the couch in your jammies and drinking hot cocoa and watching bad day-time television'. This can't be good. No one wants to pay me for that, not even if I whore myself out for my latest obsession, chai.

For long-time listeners, you know the role Earl Grey plays in my life. The miraculous transformation I undergo after that first mug (who needs evolution when you can start the day with a good, hot cuppa?) Basically, I don't leave home without it. I need it like some people need coffee. That is, until I discovered the wonder that is T2's soft spice tea. I have a gigantic tea bowl at home (seriously, it's a soup bowl with a handle and saucer) that I fill with chai each morning and BLISS! Mmmmm, clove, cinnamon and vanilla-y tea goodness. So T2 take note, am willing to sell myself for the opportunity to snuggle up in my jammies with vats of chai.

Well, it's not all sitting around. I've noticed some expansion caused by all this bad living and thought it was about time I got off my proverbial and used this spare time to lose the spare tire. I've been legging it around Alma Park of a morning, quite delightful. I've found that the first disc of 1995's (e-gads, I'm such an old fag hag!) Sydney Gay & Lesbian Mardi Gras Party Anthems is paced just right for avoiding the dog poop and getting the heart and lungs doing their thing. Nothing like a little "We Are Family" to put a swing in your step. The weather in the mornings has been glorious and so far I've been treated to the sight of lovely boys rappelling out of trees (lopping branches) and the reason why most girls should not play Aussie Rules football (ladies, do NOT shriek and run when the ball comes toward your goal, OK?) I just wish I'd stop coughing up a lung afterwards...

I've also... er... acquired (hurriedly stuffs her copy of Kazaa out of sight) some pilates videos. I remember doing pilates a few years ago at a week-long belly dance workshop. It was bloody hard work, but made me feel good afterwards, so I'm going to try that in conjunction with walking to see if I can regain my girlish figure. Unfortunately, the videos I've got have been recorded in artificial letterbox format, so when the instructor tells me to stretch my arms out, I'm sure she doesn't want me to look as freakishly distorted as the girls on the video do...

Got together with the witches of East St Kilda this week. We'd not done anything vaguely witchy in the longest time. There was a full moon, which was as good an excuse as any for we three to meet again, although there was rather less thunder and lightning and rather more wine and candles and only a little hurlyburly. Us blessed wanna be's (thank you, Mr Joss Whedon) sat about, gossiped and threw around a little prosperity magic. I'd also been itching for an excuse for an earth-mother baking frenzy, so we chowed down on Herbed Onion Tart, Spicy Pumpkin Soup with Herbed Damper Rolls (damper is an Australian bread, made rather like scones) and an Apple Cake with Vanilla Cream Sauce afterwards. Yum.

So, with a bit of luck, we'll all be doing what we want to be doing and be paid well for it by the new moon. That, or I suddenly have an overabundance of frankincense, flame red candles and jars of honey in my freezer.

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