Just Another Scintilating Sunday

Asiatic Lily Bouquet, forced to listen to Satelite Radio and blooming madly anyway.

Asiatic Lily Bouquet, forced to listen to Satellite Radio and blooming madly anyway.

This morning as I was overloading my blender with mad cancer fighting ingredients (I say mad because if they’re fighting they ought to be mad) I wondered if it isn’t about time for me to make my peace with the satellite radio.  Normally I don’t appreciate it’s noise, and there are some days when I hate it.  Those are the days when I want everyone in the world to just shut up.  So if you are dropping over for coffee on one of those days, God help you.  But no worries, today I’m feeling pleasant and chatty.  And I am blogging this without wearing any make up. I feel like what I have to say is more important than how my face looks.  Although if you were actually here drinking coffee with me you might beg to differ.  Anyway, I know there are people out there who blog naked, so this is hardly big news, but it’s as close to blogging naked as I’m likely to get.

Okay, back to the sat radio.  W has it on all the time.  When I come home he is smart enough to turn it down.  If he doesn’t and I get to it first, it gets turned right off.  He also tries to find channels with the highest percentage chance of me being able to tolerate them.  I do try to be tolerant.  Especially of people who dearly love background noise.  And this morning I was thinking that because there’s a lot of channels, there should be at least one or two that not only won’t make my head ache but that I might also actually enjoy. Yeah, well, it’s Sunday, the weather is nice, I’m in a good mood.  Pigs could fly.  Let’s try some music from the 1940’s.  I’m not kidding.  They had weird music back then and I don’t mind listening to that.  I picked up the remote, pressed select, and tried to remember what combination of zeros and fours would get me there.

Suddenly there was a deep growling voice doing hip hop rap.  I don’t care if there isn’t any such thing, that’s clearly what it was.  He sounded like a mad muppet monster, only less intelligent.  So not exactly what I was expecting.  Eventually I found Count Bassie, a definite improvement.  I love jazz, swing, big band and piano blues.  Although in small doses rather than large.  Maybe I was born in the wrong era.  The radio is still playing but I’m in a different room and can’t really hear it.  But, hey, it’s still turned on.

Speaking of “hey”, I had a delightful conversation with a little boy at work yesterday.  He was about three, with ears that he hasn’t quite grown into.  He walked right up beside me in our lab.

Him:  HEY!

Me: Hey.

Him:  Hey!  What are you doing?

Me:  I’m cleaning a pair of glasses.

Him:  Hey!  What’s that white thing?

Me:  It’s an ultrasonic cleaner, sort of like a bath for glasses.

Him:  Hey!  That’s funny!  Haha!

Mom from the doorway:  Hey!  What are you doing?  Get out of there!

So hey, he had to leave.

Aren’t those Asiatic Lilies beautiful?  A gift from K and C last weekend.  I can’t believe how they’ve lasted.  My tiger lilies in the back yard are just starting to bloom too.  I’m surrounded by lilies and Woody Herman and Duke Ellington and the voice that says “…no destination…just 40’s and beyond!”

Sort of like this post, no real purpose, just some meandering coffee talk, keeping my typing fingers limber.  Well, I’m going to go get some more coffee, how about you? Really?  But I’ve got French Vanilla cream!  Hey, where are you going?  Come back!

Summerfly

I don't normally have Fridays off, but when I do, not everyone can keep up with me.

I don’t normally have Fridays off, but when I do, not everyone can keep up with me.

Sometimes things to talk about come in the mail or mysteriously surface during a clean-up and neither will leave your head until you forcibly remove them.  At least that’s been my experience.  For today.  Tomorrow could be another whole ball of wax. (Where did that strange expression come from? I tried looking it up, but it seems no one can agree on its exact origin and after reading the third or fourth educated guess I lost interest.)

Anyway, after waiting all week for it, an invoice/receipt arrived at last in the mail today.  I am sharing part of it here because I think it’s pretty exciting.

itinerary 001

If all goes well, I will be celebrating my May 13th birthday in Athens this year.  Santorini is one of the places my brother visited and loved and thought he would like to return to see again some day but he never got the chance.  So this trip is a family holiday to remember him.  Good Gawd, look at all those island ferry transfers across the deep dark sea.  I hope they make good wine in Greece.

The other thing I’m sharing surfaced from a filing cabinet, in a file folder labeled ‘recipes’.  Who in the world prints off random recipes from the internet and files them away and ignores them for a decade?  Never mind, we already know the answer to that.  Inside this folder I also found a copy of a Christmas letter written by our cats in 1997, a three-fold religious pamphlet and a letter from a fitness spa, but there was something else in there even MORE interesting.  I can picture you rolling your eyes and sighing but sorry, that’s not going to stop me.  Here are the amazing printed words I found with no title and no explanation.

In another younger day I could dream the time away
In the universe inside my room
And the world was really mine from June until September
And if it wasn’t really so I was lucky not to know
And I was lucky not to wonder why
Because the summer time is all that I remember

A summer fly was buzzin’ every night when I was young
In the gentle world my child-like senses knew
And the world was just my cousin
And the wind was just the tongue
In the voice my lonely moments listened to

And I look at me today all the dreams have gone away
And I’m where I never thought I would be
Seeing things I never thought I would see happening to me
And I lay awake at night til the darkness turns to light
Hearing voices calling out my name
Droning over and again the same message to me

Crying who’s your partner, who’s your darlin’, who’s your baby now?
Who wakes up at night to pull you in
But it don’t matter, you’ll just make her lonely anyhow
I don’t know why you even try to win

At first I thought it was a poem but then I remembered it’s the lyrics to a song and went searching for it on YouTube.  It’s amazing what’s on that site and the stuff that comes up and how much time can go flying by while you’re sitting on the living room couch with your I-Pad and a gigantic cup of coffee.

If you don’t know this song but like the words and the kind of sad and dreamy way they sound in your head, I think you’re going to love the music.  There was some method to my madness, writing it down and putting it away in safekeeping to be discovered again on some very distant future Friday off.

Beautiful Ocean, Beautiful Tree

ocean

I took this picture! It’s the Atlantic Ocean! (Not the whole thing, of course.)

Ever wake up with some ridiculous song in your head and no clue why it surfaced?  Like maybe from the bottom of the sea while the bubbles danced about above the water?

Yep, dreams can be messed up and confusing, and that’s why I rarely try to analyze them lest real life become equally baffling.  I just google the pertinent stuff I remember which I’m pretty sure I couldn’t possibly have made up.  Here’s a link to this delightful song from my childhood.  I am sharing it along with a warning.  It WILL get stuck in your head and you WILL want to sing along.  So click at the risk of your own sanity, or to prove me wrong, whichever one works for you.

http://songs.musicsales.com/pop_play.asp?sng=200705081063

How fun was that?

Now to get that song out of your head, here’s one by Rain Perry.  It’s the theme song for “Life Unexpected” which is kind of a sappy tv show with a very far-fetched story line, but also some amazing sob-worthy moments.  And obviously a great theme song.

007
Hope you’re having a beautiful Sunday.

Bubble Bath

Imagine a romantic candle lit bathroom scene with rose petals and steamy mirrors, a glass of white wine perched on the edge of a big claw foot tub and a shapely leg rising from scented bubbles.  It’s time to pamper yourself, listen to some good music, think happy thoughts, close your eyes and relax.

bubbles

I’m impressed if you were able to get all that going on in your head, and even more impressed if you’ve done it all in real life and it works for you.

I’m afraid I have a very bad bubble bath attitude and don’t understand what all the fuss is about.  I would rather shower than take a bath.  I don’t like all that soap and how it makes my skin itch. I don’t like hot-tubs full of chemicals and flakes of dead skin either.  I don’t like soap scum, bathtub rings or rubber ducks.  Is there a bah humbug expression for this kind of thing?  I am the Ebenezer Scrooge of bathing with bubbles.

Berlinerin im Schaumbad

This is how happy it makes me to soak in a tub.  Please stop torturing this poor woman and let her pull the damn plug.

Oh well, that’s just me.  I do understand it is a little weird to feel this way.  But I can relax and listen to music and drink wine while admiring my toes without getting all wet or locking myself in the bathroom first.  However, if that’s what you really want to do, I would never try to stop you.

Just clean up that scummy oily soap ring when you’re done.

Posted for Cin’s Feb Challenge /Witchy Rambles Day 7 – Bubble Bath

Sing

linda ronstadt

Still gorgeous after all these years.

“Someone once asked me why people sing. I answered that they sing for many of the same reasons the birds sing. They sing for a mate, to claim their territory, or simply to give voice to the delight of being alive in the midst of a beautiful day. Perhaps more than the birds do, humans hold a grudge. They sing to complain of how grievously they have been wronged, and how to avoid it in the future. They sing to help themselves execute a job of work. They sing so the subsequent generations won’t forget what the current generation endured, or dreamed, or delighted in.”

Linda Ronstadt     Simple Dreams: A Musical Memoir  

Posted for Cin’s Feb Challenge  on Witchy Rambles

Just Jazzy 197

soap-lock (n) a lock of hair worn on the temple and kept smoothly in place by being soaped:  hence, any lock brushed apart from the rest of the hair and carefully kept in position.

sackbut (n) a medieval musical instrument of the trumpet family

"I wear my soap-lock on my forehead and play sackbut in a marching band!"  How totally awesome is that for an answer when somebody asks what you do?

“I wear my soap-lock on my forehead and play sackbut in a marching band!” How totally awesome is that for an answer when somebody asks what you do?

Jazzy Words