500 Albums in 600 Square Feet

Any night that we don't have plans, which varies dramatically from week to week, Michael and I end up having a deliciously prepared meal (by him, of course) and wasting away the evening listening to one of 500 albums that he has collected over the last two and a half years since we've been together. As you can imagine, music is a pretty big deal in this tiny flat. We don't have space for much in a 600 square foot shoebox, but somehow all of those records make their way from a squeezed-on-the-shelf space to the turntable, daily.

As someone who started playing piano at six, and has been singing since before I can remember, music has always been in my blood. There is a cabaret singer on my mother's side, an opera singer on my father's, as well as numerous relatives with the gift of playing instruments and carrying a tune. Apparently that is not normal standard issue like I assumed it was. In my family that trait happens to be.

Thankfully, I married a man who equally, if not more, has this passion for music. Michael knows a lot about the subject. It's actually kind of ridiculous. He plays electric guitar, writes, creates the most perfect mix tapes (okay, mix playlists), DJs, studies it historically and theoretically and, as corny as it sounds, breaths it. He challenges me to reach deeper and understand what those lyrical poets are trying to say. There are many, many benefits to being married to this man, this is just another.

Music is an artform that crosses cultures, religions and generations. It reminds we crazy humans of the past and gives us hope for the future (and makes us shake our booties!). This stuff, like, connects people. Pretty amazing. It baffles me when someone says that they don't have an interest in it. It's even more baffling when someone says they love music but will not explore outside of one genre or singer. Come on, guys. There is myriad available. Might feel overwhelming but so worth discovering over a lifetime.

This is all I wanted to say. Just a little note about what's happening in our little place tonight, and many nights, when our social calendar releases us to relax. A few more albums have crossed the turntable since I started writing this. A few more are sure to do the same before my head hits the pillow tonight.

So Long, Sunday Nap

My Sunday afternoon nap is not going to happen today. This weekly ritual, that has occurred no less than the last thirty-two years (subtract about three years for the times as kid that I skipped it in fear I'd miss something), is one I cherish deeply. One that will continue with me for the rest of my life. Except for this day. Curses!

I don't know about other religions (side note: would be very interested to hear if you have this kind of thing in your faith community!), but in most forms of the Christian world, this time to pause is one that is a pretty big deal, whether done consciously or not. Thank you, God. I love you for many things, but most definitely for inventing the nap.

While I don't subscribe to a complete rest with no activity on this day, I like the idea of having time to easily force myself to chill out in the middle of the afternoon, with nothing to do but close my eyes and gather drool on my pillowcase...which reminds me, time to change the sheets. Most times this relaxation occurs after a full, early morning of church, lunch post-service with friends, and a doze finally happening sometime in mid-afternoon. It is heavenly rejuvenation.

Oh, but not today. Our landlord is showing our apartment to a host of perspective building buyers. We smile and nod and say "Welcome to our home", as they trod their boots and eyes everywhere from the front closet to our bedroom. "Yes, please see our private boudoir where I should be sleeping right now." Our home is very open and welcoming to all, but this is a little ridiculous. 

And here they come again.

Friday Arvo (That's Aussie for Afternoon) Listening

Cocteau Twins are one of my all-time favorite bands. Robin Guthrie, of their fame, branched out and has several solo albums. This one, Emeralds, has been on repeat since I was introduced to his stuff by my darling audiophile husband.

Because I'm a big stress ball most of the time, this (in addition to a long list of other artists I will eventually share with you) has become mandatory listening. Ethereal, calming, serene...it's the perfect album to rebalance my freak out moments to more, um, ladylike ones. Enjoy.

From the Very Beginning...Again

Here we go again. Another attempt at keeping a blog. A silly, novel idea for a sometimes giver-upper, but one that must not be let go of. After poking and prodding by some of you over the years, and realizing that several of my Facebook updates border on long-form prose, it seems like I should probably be cleansing my inner writer here instead of making the poor randoms that added me as a friend on FB endure this personal exercise.

You, dear friend, seem to want to be here. So, welcome back.

There have been about two years and a helluva lot of stuff that has happened on this accidental hiatus since the last posting. A ton has happened. I mean, A TON. To keep you reading and build a sense of suspense, I won't tell you everything right now. But, it is intriguing, very intriguing...no?

Looking back over the 137 postings (many of which were never published) from the former "Ragamuffin Girl" blog that are now all archived, it seemed like I was kind of depressed, a bit weepy and often forlorn, constantly seeking for a deeper meaning of why. Much of it was cryptic but usually related to some boy trouble. Now, there is absolutely nothing wrong with that. It is to be encouraged, celebrated and continued throughout our lives, but there was something a little embarrassing about a lot of it. It was, at times, well, cheesy and pitiful. Not all of it, mind you. Some of it. A couple of them I might even throw back up at some point, but for now, I just want to start completely fresh. Thank you to everyone who endured that back in the day.

There isn't really a "focus" for this blog quite yet. I know, I know. That's the worst thing for someone like me, a person who has to have structure, to do. It's not a food blog, or a music blog or a fashion blog. It doesn't pontificate about politics or religion or social structures. But it could be all of that and more. We'll see where this thing evolves and then maybe put some boundaries on it. Until then, I'll try to keep it about the everyday. Right now I just want to write. 

Let's try this once more.
Hello.
Nice to meet you.
Wait, we have?
Ah, that's right.
Reintroductions are sometimes awkward.
It's been a while.
I'm just really happy to see you again.