Music Break

I should be looking through cookbooks for something to serve tomorrow at our "ladies' luncheon". Being a procrastinator, I'm instead writing on my blog. I'm in a happy mood because last week it finally occurred to me (about time!) that I can connect my PDA--which is filled with my favorite music--to the stereo amplifier. No more messing with changing CD's! Ah the small pleasures in my life.

For 5-6 hours I'm able to annoy the neighbors with my eclectic selection of favorites in crazy random order. Leona Lewis singing "Better With Time," followed by a Bollywood song or Cheb Mami, then Smokey Robinson's "Moody's Mood for Love," followed by the crazy wild UK bhangra hit "Baddest Ruffest", then some obscure old British 1960's pop like "Tell Him" by Billie Davis, "Sukiyaki" by Kyu Sakamoto, then Bobby Caldwell, of course, and Keane, Coldplay, and John Ondrasik.

I'm not trying to annoy the neighbors, of course, but if they're like me, they'd probably not care to listen to other people's music. Music is best when you're sitting in the middle of it and you've chosen every song. The farther you get from the source, the less its appeal. It almost ceases to be "music" when it's across the street...and if it's in a foreign language that probably doubles the annoyance (with the exception of, perhaps, Hawaiian, which technically is NOT a foreign language). In the year following 9-11, I wondered if the neighbors would turn me in to the FBI when I played Middle Eastern music. Would they even know Arabic if they heard it? I had an explanation ready: the Taliban would never sanction such music and in fact has been known to execute musicians. So there.

I especially enjoy playing lesser-known (in Hawaii) and under-appreciated songs/artists. I have this vision of someone knocking on my door. I warily crack open the jalousies to peek out and it's a vaguely familiar looking man/woman saying, "I was just passing by and wanted to thank you for playing my song! Would you like my autograph?" *LOOOOOOL*

Well I did get some indirect appreciation a while ago. I put one of my crazy mixes on a CD for Jordan and she took it to PACE (now Fun Fitness), her exercise club. Bonnie, her aide, reported later that there's a lady they often see exercising there and she always looks very solemn. It was a rare occasion that Jordan was allowed to play her CD and suddenly the lady broke into a big smile and on her way out, told Bonnie that she was from Egypt and was so happy and surprised to hear Hisham Abbas singing "Nari Nareen." She should be my neighbor.

Uh oh, I was humming "Womanizer" and somehow I could hear Britney singing "Procrastinatah, 'crastinatah, you're a procrastinatah...Who you tryin to fool, I know exactly what you are, are are are..." Time to get back to work/cleaning/looking for recipes.