Thank you notes for Saturday, July 26, 2008

IMG_3597Dear Weather,
Thank you for being so cooperative today. It was nice of you being all sunny with a cool breeze and in the mid 80s. You really made my heart sing. Wild thing. Except for the mild sunburn where I couldn’t reach with sunscreen, I think I love you.

may

IMG_3599

Dear Long Beach, Long Island,
Thank you for your soft sand and your perfect water. It felt cool and wonderful and the waves swelled and crashed and just about knocked me over a few times, and I didn’t want the day to end. It’s okay you let a bit too many people lie and play along your coast, and it’s okay some of that sand got in my swimming suit top. The sand formed a small dune on the bathroom floor before I took a shower I after I got home today. I appreciate the ways you help me remember you. You’re the best.

may

IMG_3603Dear Man in the Turquoise Speedo,
Thank you for standing in front of us at the beach. You provided great entertainment, and not too many could get away with that color and that fabric girding the loins. Unfortunately, you are not one of those people. You don’t care though, and that’s why I respect you. You rock.

may

Dear Tan,
It’s good to see you again.

may

Dear Friends,
Thanks for a wonderful day. I haven’t felt quite this relaxed in a long, long time.

may

IMG_3600Dear Boundaries,
This is the last time I’ll update a little bit specifically on feelings that relate to … people. I know that’s vague, but he asked me to apply sunscreen to his back. And I have to help a guy out, you know? And since he also played in the waves, he needed a reapplication. And I have to help a guy out. You know. So, I guess this is a request for you to help me out, because it’s time to keep some things private. If readers want to know details about what whirlwinds are spinning in my head, they can email or call. I hope that’s okay. I really appreciate your help.

may

Some Things I Will Probably Always Hate

~ When undoing the secret button in my trousers takes WAY TOO LONG when I really need to use the bathroom

~ When the secret button in my trousers pops off from too many fiddlings during bathroom emergencies

~ The secret button in my trousers

~ When the waist of my pants catches the toilet seat as I stand up and lifts it and drops it to the porcelain bowl in a loud CLANG; public and private bathrooms, it doesn’t matter

~ That Fergie song (I’m not about to upload that one to torture you)

~ Dry elbows; moisturize, people

~ When the printer tray clearly holds the entire 500-sheet ream, but people only refill the tray with the 7 sheets they need and leave the partially opened paper pack on the counter. Seriously.

May’s Inability to Stop Listening to Robert Plant and Alison Krauss

I guess we could call Thursdays “May’s Music Thursdays to an Obnoxious Degree.”

One song in particular from Raising Sand, “Stick with Me Baby,” puts me in something of a mood. I say that word with a raised eyebrow and slightly higher voice, trying not to blush. Still I don’t know if you know what I mean. Maybe you do.

This is an Everly Brothers cover. I mean, you remember the Everly Brothers. My first experience with them was in third grade. Mrs. Hamlin played “Bye Bye Love” for us. Maybe she was teaching us about harmony, and maybe she was a huge Everly Brothers fan. The Everly Brothers were musicians I’d definitely groove to.

Everybody’s been a-talkin’; they say our love wasn’t real
That it would soon be over; that’s not the way I feel
But I don’t worry, honey; let them say what they may
Come on and stick with me, baby; we’ll find a way
Yes, we’ll find a way

[Instrumental]

Everybody’s been a-talkin’; yes, the news travels fast
They said the fire would stop burnin’, that the flame wouldn’t last
But I don’t worry, honey; let them say what they may
Come on & stick with me, baby; we’ll find a way
Yes, we’ll find a way

[Repeat & fade:]
Come on and stick with me, baby

Raising Sand version

Robert and Alison sing this song very tenderly. None of it loud; almost whispering. They harmonize the entire song, with the drums softly pulsing, the melody following the same four-bar loop. I love how the ends of phrases slide up and taper just so. This is a song I could turn down the lights and slow dance to. 

It has to be on repeat, though, being less than three minutes long. Darnit, Everly Brothers.

There I am, in his arms, my head resting in the crook of his neck, our hearts matching the beat, my arms around his shoulders; his around my waist. Our bodies gently swaying, our feet barely moving. I forget to breathe, I forget where I am, except he turns to look at me and smiles. And I melt. And we return to dancing, except we never really stopped, seemingly anchored to floor but somehow floating.

Sigh.

Good News Instructions vol 2

1. Check out this post. Sars is about to start a ice cream bracket to determine the winner of all ice creams. (She helped host a cheese bracket not too long ago. British cheddar won.) This specific post asks what the difference is between Rocky Road and Heavenly Hash. Three random commenters will win a free pint of Ben & Jerry’s ice cream.

2. Perform a text search (Ctrl+F) for triple. Note in whose comment this word belongs.

3. Check out the email message I found waiting for me today:
That’s right, my sweets — your next B&J pint is on me.

I have to wait for Ben and/or Jerry to send me the coupons, and then I’ll send them along to you, so in the meantime, please send me your mailing addresses (I don’t sell them to anyone, don’t worry).

If you’re not in the U.S., I’m not sure the coupon is valid, so I can send you some stickers or magnets instead.

Thanks for commenting on the thread!

Sarah

PS Just hit reply, not reply-all. Thankee.

4. Pretend you’re me.

5. Jump up and down for winning a free pint of ice cream.

May’s Song Review: “I’ve Got That Old Feeling” by Alison Krauss

May’s synopsis: Bluegrass is cool

May’s rating scale:

MAY!

May?

meh…

meh?

MESS.

 

Since I’ve given in to Raising Sand flooding my head, I decided to look it up on NPR, and I found a Weekend Edition interview where Robert Plant and Alison Krauss discuss the album, singing as a couple from seemingly extreme genres, and what it means to sing as a “duet.” They also make me laugh.

Then I got all nostalgic about Alison Krauss. I’ve always liked her. I’ve always liked her voice, and I’ve always appreciated how she’s sustained bluegrass. So, when I saw a link to one of her songs on the same page as the interview, I clicked on it and came upon this song.

This is Alison Krauss, circa 1990. She turns 37 this year, which would have made her around 19 years old when this song came out. Yeah, she was born in the 70s, same as me, so that totally makes her my friend. That does not bias this review, however.

Oh yeah, here’s the song. Hover over the link.  Click on “play” in the pop-up box:
ive-got-that-old-feeling

No matter what I say or do,
I just can’t seem to get inside your heart
What have I done wrong?
Lately you’re so far away,
You just don’t seem to hold me like you used to
Something’s going on

I’ve got that old feeling, you’re leaving
I’m so tired of goodbye
I can’t wait on your love forever
While you change your mind

Morning finds us face to face
I feel you staring through me while I’m talking
What’s come over you?
Familiar looks I recognize
the same old looks that said goodbye the last time
Something I’m used to

I’ve got that old feeling, you’re leaving
I’m so tired of goodbye
I can’t wait on your love forever
While you change your mind

It’s typical bluegrass: simple, flowing melody, tight harmonies, no drums. Alison’s voice, along with the guitar, slide guitar, mandolin, fiddle and bass are a lovely combination. The string solos add to the bluegrassy feel. I’ve got that old, bluegrass feeling.

Nothing too special about the lyrics; they say nothing new. Love spurned not about to go through it again. I could sing this to someone given a certain situation. Oh wait, someone has to love me first. That is the certain situation.

It’s a short song, not quite three minutes, but a lot of stuff is happening in that moment. I’ve listened to it at least twenty times to try catching everything. I really like it.

The Politics of Dancing, er, Dating

We were discussing an article from The Slate; it was around the time speculation about Hillary Clinton’s VP appointment had reached its peak, just after her concession. Mrs. Clinton was/is actively pursuing this position, and the article treated the situation similarly to that of a woman who wants a man’s attention and seeks it way too aggressively. Somewhere in our conversation, the guy I’m with states if a man wants a woman, he’ll go after her. He said something like nothing scares a guy away more than a super-assertive woman. I’ve heard this on several occasions, and it seems in my case, it’s true. I’ve been hyper-interested and hyper-expressed my feelings, and whatever interest a guy might have had in me immediately evaporated. Hyperly. It’s weird. The evening progressed, and we were really enjoying each other’s company. We talked about quite a few things; we shared personal stories, and while I didn’t want the night to end, I knew it had to. And I let it, because I’ve learned to be a slow-mover in my old age, and I’ve learned to hold back, because I’ve been burned a few times in the course of my life, but I’ve also learned it’s okay to be vulnerable, because how else are people supposed to get to know me? My learnings over the past 20 or so years conflicted and clashed, but now they get along and have interwoven quite nicely, and now I’m starting to get the hang of this dating thing. Now I’m this present and sweet and fun personality who happens to be a pretty tough cookie. Anyway, a couple of days later, I sent a thank-you email. Then about 10 days later, he called to invite me out to do something. Then he was out of town for a while, but I sent him another email just to check in. Nothing too long or involved, and he replied to my email. Then I left him alone, because I knew he was busy, and I got the impression he’s just as slow a mover as I am. Then three weeks later, he called to catch up. And then we caught up. Then the next day I sent him an email to invite him over for brownies. His response came via text message and past my bedtime and too late for him to drop by. I didn’t reply; I thought it would be pointless. Then he emailed to make sure I got his text and to ask about my week. Then I replied to his email. Then I don’t know what. Then I don’t know what. If this is pursuit, I’ll take it; I haven’t experienced anything remotely like it in a long time. I want him to like me. I want him to want me. I need him to need me. I’d love for him to love me. I’d beg him to beg me. You know. Thank you, Slate. Thank you, Mrs. Clinton and Mr. Obama. You’ve made my personal life a whole lot easier to handle.