Saturday, April 18, 2009

MUSIC THAT MOVES ME


Free-Dancing in the Kitchen

We have always had music in the kitchen along with every other room in the house. The Royster makes sure that there is music everywhere in the house as well as in the garage and back yard. That’s one of his M passions. He seems to be passionate about things that begin with the letter M. There’s Mom, Michael (his son), Melissa, Music, Money, Muscle Cars, and Motorcycles. I’m sure that there are more M’s, but these are the most evident. And of these M’s, the very biggest one for him is music.

For every MP3 he compiles of various artists for himself, he makes one for the kitchen stereo, and one for my stereo in the truck. Among these are The 1812 Overture, Kitaro, Pink Floyd, definitely Susan Boyle for sure, The Indigo Girls, Brenda Lee, Diana Krall, Susan Tedeschi, James Taylor, Eric Clapton, Carly Simon, Elton John, The Boss Bruce Springsteen, Billy Joel, Eric Clapton, The Everly Brothers, and Buckwheat Zydeco. The list could go on forever. I will have to say that he’s never made an MP3 that included The 1812 Overture however, but it does play on in my head on occasion. And then there is Susan Boyle. I don’t think she has anything out yet, but you can be assured I’ll have one of hers as soon as it comes out.

This morning, while free-dancing to Sam Cooke on my kitchen stereo, I was thinking of the importance of music. I have long believed that different music affects different people in different ways, and I’m sure it just depends on the beat going on in your head and the blood coursing through your veins; your temperament, your chemistry and your moods, who you are and where you’ve been. It’s not only important to certain people, but it moves the entire world. Everyone in this world responds to music in one form or another. It moves people to new ideas and feelings and inspires important decisions.

It doesn’t matter if you are conscious of what’s on the radio or not; it’s affecting you. Even with the sounds of silence in the yard in the morning or in the night, there is a beat, a tune or a tempo in every breeze, bird singing, frogs chirping, water running, falling rain, the hum of an air conditioner, distant trains and your very own heartbeat. There is music everywhere.

Music, whatever it is attached to, be it dancing, singing, playing a musical instrument, or just hearing a rhythm in one’s head, is moving us at all times. I’m pretty sure it has something to do with physics. Even sports activities and events are subject to these beat and rhythms. Images of our universe are always accompanied with dramatic music. People are inspired by sounds they hear around them to compose music, songs, and dances or even to write stories and poetry. Some people are instantly lifted up to feel joy, while some music will move someone else to tears. Music will take you back to places in your heart of long ago, and awaken old memories. It will make you hum, sing, sway and dance. Smells and aromas are powerful and thought provoking, but not the way music will move a person. Music just moves my feet! I suspect that I might have missed my calling.

Getting back to free-dancing in the kitchen … I’m pretty darned good at this, especially unobserved, and at times like that I could really use a whole basketball court. I’m always delighted when The Royster joins me in dancing in the kitchen. That’s always special to both of us. It says that for the moment we’re both on the same frequency. Not that we’re at odds at any given time, but that we just happen to be more in tune with each other at that time, without any words needed.

Whatever happens to be on my plate, the music in the kitchen is very special to me. It lifts my spirits, boosts my energy, substantiates my life dramas and, in moments of sadness, will join me to make the sadness more bearable. Mostly, music is my friend, and is always there to host my every mood.

I think I’ll keep dancing in the kitchen and listening to compositions made in the silence of night and morning awakenings. It is life in process.

Thursday, April 16, 2009

I'LL GET TO THAT LATER


I have touched briefly on Spring Cleaning recently. It’s one thing to clean out one’s own dresser drawers, but I have it on good authority that there is much more to it than that. A dear friend of mine, Jackie, is on a roll and has begged online for friends and family to “Somebody please stop me!” She will have everything spotless before going out to California in a couple of weeks. Sorry I won’t be able to make the same claim before heading out to see my daughter and her brood in Arizona next month. I have not had to beg anyone to stop me, however I am haunted by several cabinets, closets and drawers that I have not gotten to … yet.

Once you have cleaned the attic, there should be no more concern about it unless you are in and out of there on a regular basis. I cleaned ours in preparation for a new A/C and heating system and insulation two years ago. It’s still pristine. Give me a drum roll and a round of applause, please. I'm really proud of the clean attic, and feel inclined to show it off when we have guests.

The garage is The Royster’s domain. The yard is mine. 'Nuf' said about that.

The closet I am considering next is in the kitchen. It’s very large, and I think it was designed to store small kitchen appliances. One could have an entire garage sale based on what’s in that closet alone. I know that there is a Wok in there that has not been used in about 20 years. There are three crock pots, a toaster oven, my mixer, a small vacuum cleaner and a filing cabinet. Oh! … And my nebulizer is right at eye level. That’s very important to know. Beyond that, who knows? There could be a giant Aardvark in there and I probably would not know. By the way, there is a reason that I am not using “we” in this. That would be because I’m the only one that goes in there. Family and friends that come into this house seem to have a natural fear of opening those big double doors. The Royster is just plain terrified. I could hide an entire Christmas in there, if there was room, and it would be safe from prying eyes. The only draw back about that is that all that stuff would be lost … secure and for good. The rest of the stuff in this closet is clutter that was gathered from the kitchen table, counters and desk tops in preparation for guests. Obviously, it cannot be anything that I have needed, or I would know what else is in there.

There are several other areas of community clutter that are in dire need of attention. There are two wet bars in our house. As far as I am concerned, this could not possibly still be considered a selling point for a home. We do not even use one wet bar. We are teetotalers and have absolutely no use of one wet bar. However, that has not stopped us from chunking stuff behind them. The one downstairs has a small TV set that is reserved for when we want to sit out on the deck to watch a ball game or a movie. We even have a TV Converter Box for it. It’s never been hooked up. There are a number of gadgets, candles and small remote control cars; not to mention drawers full of old photographs and memorabilia, like battery operated Cheap Sun Glasses that flash in different colors from a ZZ Top Concert. This rat hole is its own challenge.

The upstairs wet bar harbors all of my sewing notions, supplies, fabrics and craft crap. It started out in some kind of order, but none of it is any particular order now. Don’t get me wrong. I do use this stuff often, and I know where to find whatever I need. It’s a matter of trying to get to the things I need without spilling a huge jar of buttons or a huge bag of tiny beads into the carpet. It just takes a while. I do know where the card table is, and my sewing machine and my glue gun (and I know how to use it). That’s a start. My big plan for these wet bars is to have them torn out and replaced by cabinets, drawers and desks. I keep hearing in the back of my head, “Dream on, dreamer!”

So you see, I have my choice of major community clutters to clean out. My only serious fear is that I could be sucked into the Twilight Zone; not that it would not be interesting. Somebody please stop me!

In the mean time, I will just write a note in the dust on the coffee table to anyone looking for me, “See me in the back yard cleaning out Monster Flower Beds!" … And somehow I feel much safer there among the leaves, weeds, cat briar, bugs and snakes.