Grooviness?

Grooviness?

Snow at last! I love snow! The kids ran outside and fooled around. Some of it with dog, some sans. Then we had cocoa and tea and listened to the Mamas and the Papas. And danced, in a manner most groovy. Whee!

I have too many songs in my head. I just think of the song, and the whole thing plays in my memory. Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon? Don’t have to listen to it, really; just think of it, and then it starts playing, kind of in the background. Happens with songs I don’t even like, too—I really am not a Fleetwood Mac fan, but damn it, enormous sections of Rumours can start if I’m not careful, and then we’re in for endless choruses of “Rhiannon” before I get it booted out of there (“she is like a cat in the dark, and she is the darkness” – WTF??). I like to sing. Having words handy is necessary for that. Just wish I didn’t actually know all the words to, oh, “Don’t Stop (Thinkin’ About Tomorrow)” ACK! No! Get out of there! I hate that song!

Ahem. Background is now Queen, “Crazy Little Thing Called Love.” Which is fine.

It’s been a while since I listened to songs, other than classical radio. My Secret Pal sent me a compilation cd—thanks, Selkie!—and I finally listened to it. Lots of songs I know well, some new to me; fun. “American Pie,” some Indigo Girls, Cat Stevens, different things. It unglued a piece of my mind that had been carefully bandaged, so I cried a bunch today, too, but that’s all right. Music is important to me, along with words (ha! both!), and I need to be able to have it back. I build up enough strength for the next part, and then go through the next bunch of waaaaah, until I can’t do any more, and then I stop. It’s okay. “We wait until we can get up again, then we go on.” (“Waiting for Godot”)

Anyhow, it made me think of making one, too, with the JCB Song (link in the sidebar), Great Big Sea doing “General Taylor” and also their cover of “The End of the World as We Know It”, and on and on. Clannad, in Gaelic (yes, they are mostly in Irish, but there’s this one that’s actually Gaelic). “Gaudete.” Note to self: Self, you are geeking out again.

Knitting! Ruth (& I think everyone else in the room) assured me that the sock was in fact even worse than it looks in the picture from my last post, so I ripped it out. Breathe in, breathe out, and on we go. New socks are in progress, at the same time this time, so I can’t possibly have different gauge between them. Go, me. Also the mysterious fair isle project is zipping along.

The snow gave me an impetus to finish youngest child’s new gloves, so I have a feeling that’s on the cards for the next couple days. It’s chilly, and our beloved steam heat is chugging away, making all kinds of very earnest noises that, surprising, signify effectiveness. Warm and cozy. In contrast to sound and fury signifying nothing.

And there’s a march on Washington. Possible sound and fury, there, but we live in hope. So off we go. Bustle, bustle. Must book cat sitter.