Category Archives: Music

Always a Song

You know how I’ve told you I always carry a song in my heart?  Well this morning was no exception.
This morning I woke up to Axel Rose welcoming me to the jungle.  For some reason (that I was soon to find out) the song was playing full force in my brain.  I can’t say that I mind too much because a). I like Guns N Roses and, b). my brain was apparently preparing me for the morning.  Because why?  Oh, yea … cause I overslept.  Oops.  At first I thought that I just hadn’t heard the alarm clock going off since I had a pillow jammed over my head and all … (I’ll tell you why – Mr. Farish was up and moving at 3:30 and he is NOT a quiet guy, that’s why) so I reached over for my alarm clock to check out that situation only to find that I hadn’t set it last night … oh well, what’s an extra 25 minutes?  Well, I’ll tell you.  For me 25 minutes of extra sleep is fantabulous.  Who doesn’t want to stay cuddled in bed as long as possible?  It’s also freakybad since I have to drive 45 minutes to get to work.   
OK.  So I am up and at em, showering/shampooing/scrubbing away when suddenly a new song emerges just as I am washing my shoulders: Back fat, back fat … yes, sung to the tune of backpack backpack of Dora fame.  EWWW back fat!  Well that ol’ back fat got a good workout with the scrubby and soon I was off to the closet to grab a pair of pants, (NO!  I did not go commando I just didn’t think you needed to hear about the whole panty selection process etc.).  Anywho, Luckily last night I had hand washed several lightweight sweaters so I knew that I was ok that way.  All I needed to do was grab a pair of pants…easy.  Except that the pair that I wanted to wear had a big ol’ hanger mark to which I suddenly heard, "I’ve been hanging on a hanger, all the summer long …" (yes, to the tune of I’ve been working on the railroad).  Dammit!  OK, stroll into the kitchen (sans pants) to grab a cup of coffee and regroup.  YUM.  Fresh brewed Casi Ciello with a splash of Almond Breeze.  You guessed it … Suddenly Almond Breeze, Almond Breeze.  Almond Breeze, Almond Breeze.  Yummy in my coffee, Almond Bree-eeze … I don’t think the Beatles would mind if I let it be.  Am I going nuts here ( oh man!  No pun intended – really)  Always a song people, always a song.
Now I am sipping my joe as I walk into the bathroom to get my makeup on – it is only then that I discover that I still haven’t dried my hair.  What in the world?  How does one forgetto dry their hair? I am truly out of sorts – Welcome to the Jungle indeed!  As you know I do not sport long. luscious locks so a ponytail is out of the question.  IS that Jethro Tull singing "Straight, as a stick" ?  I do beleive it is.  So I’ll spare you the rest of the morning details but suffice it to say that my song repertoire was rather full, but you must know that I never felt one bit of stress, and since past experience has taught me that rushing does not help, I went about my morning as usual … well ok, I may have forgotten to bring Mia back in from her morning potty outside but hey, the kids will find her …
and in the end?  I may have overslept but I still made it to work by 7:04!  Not bad, not bad at all! 
I will however be checking and double checking my alarm clock tonight.  I only know so many songs.

Pineapple Princess

As Cydney and I were driving home from her drum lessons last night we started talking about our first family vacation to Hawaii.  Cydney must have been around 4 years old that first time.  This vacation was a series of firsts for her.  Her first really long plane flight (she was very excited).  First time using an airplane potty (scared the wits out of her), first in-flight movie, (I don’t think she blinked once).  At that young age, Cydney was old enough to appreciate the beauty of the clear blue sky, old enough to appreciate family togetherness, old enough to order her own beverage from the flight attendant, and old enough to be patient during our long layover in California. 
Always a trooper, Cydney was game to do and see and try anything and everything that was Hawaii.  From swimming with the giant sea turtles, to tasting native fare, hiking miles upon mile to get to an elusive waterfall; there she was right next to her siblings and parents just going with the flow.  This child is not a complainer.  Nope, she is a doer.  That first trip was two weeks long which enabled us to spend one week on the North shore with it’s gigantic, crashing waves and laid back lifestyle, living in our rented beach house that we could pretend was our own.  The following week was spent in the ubber luxurious Hilton Hawaiian Village smack dab in the middle of everything wonderful and (again) only a few steps onto the beach.  Surprisingly enough, the kids preferred the simplicity of the beach house and the ability to act like a native over the touristy life of the urban traveller.  (point taken kids). 
At the end of those jam-packed, fun-filled, adventure-seeking, two weeks, we packed up and prepared for the long flight back home.  Cydney tearfully bid farewll to every bit of furniture, grain of sand, plant, flower, beach and pool that she saw as we headed for the airport.  But again, ever the trooper, she quickly composed herself and began talking about all of the things she had missed at home and would look forward to seeing once again. 
Now, knowing my families proclivity for mischief and adventure (used very loosely as they seem to find us, not the other way around), once back we are inundated with requests to hear, "What happened?" …note, not how was the trip? what did you do … oh no, "What Happened?" for there is ALWAYS a story to be told that invarioubly involves involuntary bodily functions, spontaneous bouts of illness of unknown origin, tripping, falling, getting lost, flashings, you name it and we will be sure to supply a side-splitting, tear-inducing recreation of the said event(s).  Hawaii was no exception.  I grabbed a strangers butt thinking it was Mr. Farish, Abi left her gameboy DS on the airplane, Cydney was knocked over by a giant sea turtle and had to be ‘rescued’, Skylar fell on the lava rock, Dustin got bitten by a crab … adventure I tell you…pure adventure!  So much to tell, so much to laugh about and yet, Cydney chose to tell about something that I had never even imagined…the music!  Cydney loved the music of Hawaii.  She loved the hula, the ukulele, the songs, the magic of the music.  Her one and only Christmas request?  Music from Hawaii!  And she got some.  Grandma Carol and Grandpa Dave gave her the music of Hawaii.  She must have played that CD a bazillion times and never got tired of hearing it.  She would sing along, hula about her room, and enjoy herself thoroughly. 
It was this memory that came back to me last night.  The music.  Listening to Cydney singing, "Pineapple Princess" was a joy to behold.  While I had heard her singing so much I pretended not to know the words just so I could listen to her belt out that song over and over again in her innocent little voice.  She patiently sang that song, stopping after each line to have me repeat it back to her, until I too had mastered every verse of "Pineapple Princess".  We sang duets, we sang solos, we took turns singing every other line .. we sang and it made us happy!  Last night I asked Cydney if she remembered singing "Pineapple Princess" with me.  She did, we smiled, and then we sang, "Pineapple Princess" the rest of the way home…

Sometimes I Lack Maturity

The nose Whistle.  We’ve all done it.  Sitting innocently when suddenly someone looks over and says, "Is that you?"  What? you reply.  "Your nose is whistling."  Oh, um, thanks.  But what do you do when it’s a stranger, or worse yet, a coworker that you barely know or feel uncomfortable alerting to such a melodic situation?  Do you just sit there and try not to listen?  
I’m sitting in a seminar, eyes on the speaker, when to my left I start to hear a little ‘rrr’.  I try not to listen, I want so much to be mature and not start giggling.  I try.  I try harder.  I am trying so hard.  The problem is that I have become so fixated on the whistle and it’s uncanny synchronization of the speakers brief pauses, that I am ready to burst.  Am I the only person that can hear the sounds being emitted from that schnoze?  Certainly someone else can hear it.  Anyone?  Is there anyone out there that knows this person and is willing to offer a tissue?  Oh GEEEZ, it’s getting louder!  I swear it is starting to vibrate the walls.  My chair is shifting and shaking.  I want to lean over and request a tune, perhaps something a little more upbeat, not so flat, a change in melody will certainly be welcome at this point.  Oh, my sides are starting to hurt from holding it in.  I know!  I clearly am not mature enough to handle nostril-tunes.  Finally; time for a break.  I stand up and ever so slyly look to my left.  I have to get a look at the offender.  I look forward again and am greeted by four eyes staring at ME!  Yep.  Sure ’nuff, the women in front of me have also been graced by the honker next door.  Problem is, they are giving me the evil eye!  They think it’s me!  I give out a mighty sigh to demonstrate that my nasal passages are crystal clear and booger free.  I don’t think they believe me.  With a huff and two puffs, they exit their seats whispering all the while.  I want to chase after them and exclaim, "It isn’t me honking out lullabies in there.  I walk over to the refreshment table.  I will offer a kind hello therefore allowing another opportunity to demonstrate my ability to breathe silently from my nose.  Too late.  As I approach the table I realize that my noisy seatmate is mere steps away.  I didn’t have to look up, the whistle announced the arrival of Ms. A Cappella herself.  And yes, the two women have heard as well…and walk away.  I want to chase them, I want to redeem myself in these strangers eyes, I want to ask which of the two will accept a $10.00 dare and offer up a tissue-challenge to our mutual offender.  But alas, I do not.  No, I return to my seat and prepare for the second half of the concert to begin…and it does.