Songs of Our Lives

(September Song Project, #6)

Thinking about this music challenge has really brought home to me just how much of my life is anchored in song. I suppose that shouldn’t surprise me but it did, somehow.

There’s something very sticky about music, isn't there? Jingles from our childhood, our tendency toward earworms…, not to mention the way that certain tunes are nothing but extra-strength fly paper for memories, both good and bad. Music is kind of a framework for compressing and storing our important moments, filing them away neatly for years, needing only the trigger of melody to unpack a whole gamut of emotions.

Sometimes music picks away slowly, niggling and poking until it gradually uncovers a recalcitrant memory. Other times, it only takes a single opening note to call up an experience so vivid that you find yourself laughing (or crying) before you’ve even had a chance to register what you're remembering.

In fact, in the hands of the very talented, music can even knock you to your backside from feelings that were never actually yours to begin with…

(Brace yourself for 1:24!)

Music.

I’m glad we’ve got it.


Aaaand... that's it for the September Song Project.
Thanks to Mrs. Fever for launching the idea - I hope you've had fun coming along for the ride.
:-)

Chançon de Spock

To wrap up the final Spock Sunday of September's Song Project,

The Vulcan Crooner himself

*swoooon*

An Eight From The Soviet Judge

Or maybe not…

But this dancing really is just about perfect.

A Twitch In Time

(September Song Project, #5)

Driving through town the other day, I was struck by one of those rogue nerve spasms that irritate a person every now and again. Usually, mine center near an eyelid and give the appearance of frantic winking. This one was a little different, however - it broke out between nose and upper lip, repeatedly pulling my face up into a sneer.

This, as you can imagine, was both fairly maddening and quite unattractive, but try as I might, I could not overpower the twitch. That darned lip just kept curling up - I felt like Elvis Presley.

After a few minutes of fruitless struggle, I finally decided, “If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em”, took a deep breath, and belted out,“You ain’t nothin' but a Hound Dog” at the top of my lungs.

The tic immediately abated.

Thank you. Thank you very much.

NEVER underestimate the power of The King!

Spock and The Dropping Penny

Dude…

Even *I* got that one!

Strange Song...

but great dancing!

(Anyone else get an earworm from this…?)

Songs of the Kitchen

(September Song Project, #4)

Generally, I can manage to produce some pretty tasty meals... but an ungodly September workload has been wreaking havoc on the cooking mojo around here. 

The food has gone from singing with flavor to crying for mercy.

I made:

Peach muffins.

From gorgeous, succulent, orchard-fresh globes of goodness, obtained by special trip to the farmer’s market, specifically to try out a new “Oooh! Makes a double-batch!” recipe. 

Charred to within an inch of their lives.

Meatloaf.

I borked meatloaf, for cripesake. 

Who screws that up? 

Well… me, apparently.

Now, I didn’t burn it… and the texture was terrific. BUT my total omission of seasoning in any form; salt, pepper, or otherwise, resulted in a perfectly cooked, superbly textured loaf of Bland.

HOWEVER…!

If you think I’m letting a little carbon (or too little sodium) get the better of me, you seriously misunderstand just how ornery I truly am. I absolutely refused to throw these dishes out. 

(I could claim noble intentions but really, it was less a case of “waste not, want not” than sheer, stubborn refusal to accept culinary defeat.)

So I crumbled the meatloaf into a skillet, took a paring knife to the crunchy black muffin skin, and produced a magnificent dinner of superbly saucy (and very well-seasoned) shepherd’s pie, with creamy, custardy peach muffin bread pudding for dessert. 

HA!

Same food, different tune.

Take that, you cooking gremlins, you!

p.s - did YOU know this wasn't done by Aretha?

I sure didn't.

Grunge In Space

A rare glimpse into Spock’s misspent, tattooed youth…

(To whoever Photoshopped this - you are my new hero.)

That King Can Dance

More Musicals!

(I particularly like the moment around 3:57, when he pretty much sends her airborne...)

Singing Kumbaya

(September Song Project, #3)

(Warning: this should probably be subtitled #GetOffMyLawn! - so proceed with caution)

They corralled us into a meeting at work the other day.

One of those long and dragged-out team-building exercises that wastes time bandying about words like “empathy” and “compassion” in an attempt to make everyone feel warm and fuzzy about their job, so that we can All Be Successful.

Here’s the problem:

I’m not a warm and fuzzy person. Genetically, I fall much more into the "acerbic and aloof, with overtones of arrogance when annoyed" category. Nonetheless, I strive to follow my mama’s precepts of civility, courtesy, and respect to all. I try not to say anything if I haven’t got something good to say - and I firmly believe in giving a compliment when that something nice strikes me.

However…, I am a tech.
You hired me to fix machines, not to blow rosy smoke up your collective backsides. 

Fact of life: Sometimes you just have to suck it up and deal.

Corrollary: Actions speak louder than words.

Making us all successful is a noble goal, but it would stand a much better chance of succeeding if, instead of dictating rules and regulations for how we can make each other feel good, you simply pulled up your big kid pants and categorically made some of the hard decisions that will let us actually accomplish our tasks.

You want empathy?

I’m more concerned with why “honesty” isn’t on your list.

  Or “accountability”.

  Maybe even (going WAY out on a limb here)… “integrity”?

Someone’s cryin', my lord...

Speaking of Banjos...

I’m pretty sure he'll do Thunder Road if we ask nicely...

Face the Music and...

I figure if September is Music Month, then the September Friday Night Dance Parties should feature… Musicals! (Any excuse for more Friday Night Dances. :-D)

We’re starting off by Following the Fleet.

This is actually a special request from BookMan, who is not only a book guy, thesaurus, Strunk & White, and poet extraordinaire all rolled into one, but he’s also deeply interested in movies and theater.

BookMan feels that “this is one of the great Astaire and Rogers numbers--performed by Rogers in a dress that she said weighed thirty-five pounds. Not only is the dancing terrific, but once they get past the intro dialog, the whole thing is one shot. No editing, no cutting, no close-ups, just mid-distance full-body shots.  Screw cinema--let's dance!”  

(That dress gives me total "swoosh" envy, can I just mention?)

Singin' - Rain or... Shine?

(September Song Project, #2)

I was listening to some children singing the other day and thought to myself, “My goodness, songs have changed a lot since I was little…”  Then I paused to think... and gave myself a case of the giggles. I didn't exactly sing normal songs myself, come to think of it. 

We always sang in the car, Mom and I, but for whatever reason, there was never a radio on. Instead, we had to come up with our own playlists - and since a repertoire consisting solely of “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star” and "The Eentsy Weentsy Spider" would have gotten very old, very fast, Mom had me cutting my teeth on old sheet music ditties quicker ’n’ you could say, “Happy Fourth Birthday!”

We did a lot of Workin’ on the Railroad ... It was probably the travel theme that made it such a popular choice but I also never missed an opportunity to throw myself, heart and soul, into those Fi Fi Fiddly-eye-oh’s - particularly that final, drawn-out, high-note of an “OoooooooooooOH!” So it's entirely possible that I stacked the deck a bit with some preemptive launches.

Another popular tune had us moderating the war between the sexes with Reuben and Rachel, in which we'd take turns singing each part and sometimes even try it out as a round.

But my absolute favorite car singing experience was when I got to belt out the words of that paean to moonshine, Little Brown Jug. It wasn’t a well-known song in my tiny New England village but Mom grew up in the coal mining hills of West Virginia, so that might explain how it made the cut. Whatever the origin, I just LOVED singing the “Ah ha ha ha”’s. To the extent, in fact, that it’s still one of the snatches of song that slip out of my mouth when I’m just warbling mindlessly.

Although, on second thought, I'm starting to wonder if it's the song itself - or if it might be those West Virginia genes coming to the fore... Because there's another sticky-bit of song in my head that strikes a similar chord.

You see, about the same time that Mom and I were wearing out the lyrics of Little Brown Jug, my brother was honing his banjo skills on The Ballad of Thunder Road - and whenever he'd get to the chorus, the whole family would break out in boisterous accompaniment, from all corners of the house. Even to this day, you can still hear "Thunder, thunder, over Thunder Road!" around these parts. (Thunder was his engine and white lightning was his load, don'cha know?)

I also still have a bunch of those old brown jugs still kicking around in the attic.
Hmmmmmm... (she retreats thoughtfully)

Singin' in the Rain

(September Song Project, #1)

The afternoon thunderstorm turned the sky pitch-dark and loosed a sudden, torrential downpour that flooded the serpentine back road. I squinted through sheets of water, my windshield wipers squeaking in furious motion before me. As I carefully rolled to a stop at the intersection, my eye was caught by a burst of motion off to my right.

A boy, maybe 10 years old, was in the side road. 

Shirtless, clad only in bathing trunks, he was “walking” the family dog -

In the pouring rain - 

While wearing roller skates. 

The dog? 

Was a Doberman. 

A larger-than-boy, prancing, puddle-loving Doberman.

They were splashing and swooping wildly along the road, having the absolute time of their lives. I could hear the barking and laughter even through closed windows and the din of rain pounding on the car roof.

#BestMomentofTheWeek

Happy Music Month!

In an attempt to rejuvenate some flagging blogger mojo, Mrs. Fever is hosting the September Song Project.  It’s not a super-complicated thing. You just use music (any aspect: titles, lyrics, genre, band, period, you name it) as inspiration to post.  Cover any topic, make your own schedule… it’s really pretty free-form. Just base your post on music, post it in September, and link back to her page so that everyone can find each other.

Septembers are often pretty hectic for me but I’m going to participate. I may not post as often as I might like, but there will, by golly, be music in these pages!

Spock will start us off on the right note…

(ha! see what I did there?) ;-p