there's no place like home.

I, however, firmly believe that Oz trumps Kansas, or anything else America has to offer.

There still hasn't been a chance to catch up on sleep, but at least I've figured out what time it is where I'm at. I should be fast asleep like the rest of Australia, but my body still feels like it's in America, and it's the wrong end of the morning - I should be up and at it. In Europe, it's well into the evening and I should also be up and at it. So despite what my Mum wants me to do, I am up and at it.

At least I am not the only Laine child who doesn't sleep. Most of us are up and at it, those of us who are here. I hear Rockband on down the hall, I suppose that means everyone is up. Everyone except Mum, and maybe Alyse. She is probably asleep on the couch down there, somehow blocking out the boys being rowdy. I wonder which one of them is trying to sing? I wonder when someone will pay Asher to play this game? Kid is epic, and hey... he's one of us. He's got to be famous for something, right?

This is only the tip of the iceberg. Friday we go around the gulf to whichever beach Mum has chosen this time, and Friday, all 500 of us will be together again: aunts, uncles, cousins, nieces, in-laws, and friends. Seriously, a hell of a lot of people. I love our family Christmases, for as long as I can remember we've done it like this: rent house on beach. Head to house the weekend before Christmas. Decorate in a mad whirl. Celebrate Christmas on beach. Food, beer, cricket and music, until the sun is long gone and someone passes out. As soon as someone passes out (or nearly falls into the fire, or tries to get the babies drunk, or throws up in sight of Mum), Mum calls an end to it and we all go to bed. So we try to stay on our best drunken behavior. Try.

On top of Christmas, we have other celebrations to attend to. My niece is turning 5 next Wednesday, and my littlest brother will be a teenager two days into the new year. Where has the time gone?

It's probably a good thing said little brother just burst into the room, ranting about Alfie's lack of vocal skills (...what?) and demanding I come join his band before his scores go to waste, because I would spend the rest of the night rambling and reminiscing. But who am I to deny our littlest, and spoiledest, what he wants? He's going to make tiger toast if I comply - how can I say no to that?

I never want to leave this again. Burn the ruby slippers, I refuse to depart.

it's a new day, it's a new dawn, it's a new life.

And I'm feelin' good.

I am angry that blogspot will not let me embed this beautiful video of my brothers. Search it on youtube; watch it live. Unbeatable.

Three hours from Greece. Two weeks from home. Rove, Gma, Christmas specials with my brothers and a proper fucking meatpie. All the carmello koaloas we can stand, Julian Jonsson. Everyone under one roof - well, three rooves, but all together. Christmas on the beach; it's been too long. California beaches just don't cut it. Awesomeness awaits.

Awesome happenings will awesome. Just you wait.

The Empire Strikes Back, again. 1231. Beware.