Subjective Classic

When it comes to music, everybody has their own idea of what constitutes a classic song.
For some of us the classics live in '60's rock and roll, for others the early years of rap are where a classic is found.

Last night I had the opportunity to watch the performance of a band whose members believe the true classics are the hits by Frank Sinatra, Bobby Darin, Nat King Cole, and Tony Bennett.

I must admit that I rarely listen to music from that era, but Eddie Sherman and his "orchestra" put on a very enjoyable show. The music was interlaced with history of the original songs. I was surprised to learn that some of what became the greatest hits of that era were songs that had been hidden in bureau drawers or tossed into rejection piles only to resurface by chance at just the perfect time for the perfect artist.

I imagine that to the original songwriter, the rebirth of the song must have seemed miraculous.

The same resurrections must continue in present day. It's nice to think that miracles still happen.

Chernobyl Grapes

While packing my lunch this morning, I reached into a recently purchased bag of grapes, then quickly withdrew my hand in surprise. I must have bought the wrong item. Yes, whatever was in the bag grew in bunches, but each piece of fruit was big enough to be a night light bulb.

I checked the markings on the packaging. Red seedless grapes - Imported

Imported from where - Chernobyl?

Exposure to radiation seemed the only explanation for the gargantuan size of the grapes. I briefly worried that I would glow a sickly green color if I ate the fruit, then decided that might be just the perfect effect for the upcoming Halloween season.

I guess I'll get my answer when I go to bed tonight. If it turns out I can read by the light emanating from my hands I'll know I should have trashed the grapes.

Winning the Jackpot

I won the jackpot today - the coupon jackpot that is.

I was doing the weekly grocery shopping. Once all of my items had been scanned and bagged, I handed the cashier my special discount card - you know, those cards that by and large have taken the place of coupons.

As soon as my card was swiped, the printer spat out one of those endangered coupons, followed by another, followed by nearly a dozen coupons after that. The cashier nearly collapsed in a giggle fit and I was tempted to start looking around for the hidden candid camera.

Oh if only I had been in Vegas and if only it had been a slot machine paying out big time.

Don't get me wrong, I'm grateful for the coupons. It's just that I'd rather be having to worry over the taxes on a hundred thousand dollars than where I'm going to put the extra 3 bags of kitty treats I need to buy in order to collect my 75 cents savings.

Microscope Moon

The full moon was still high in the sky when I left for work this morning. At ground level, bands of fog shifted on eddies of air so that at one moment the moon was a blazing white circle and the next a muted gray puddle of light.

Perhaps because of the other-worldliness of the morning, it occurred to me that the moon resembled the eyepiece of a microscope. Which made me wonder if maybe I was being scrutinized by a greater being.

Was the progress of my car along the road being studied from above just as I had once studied the seemingly frantic travels of amoeba in a drop of liquid during science class? Was the fog surrounding me in fact a drop of liquid on a glass slide? Was I as minute a part of the universe belonging to the watcher in the sky as an atom is to my world?

I would have liked to have traveled further down this road of hypothesis but the beams of light from an oncoming car brought my attentions back to the here and now.

Perhaps as I fall asleep tonight I will return to my pondering of being part of a larger organism - what I would call the universe, but the watcher might call a petri dish.

The Beginning of Tomorrow

It's been a full schedule today. So here's a short contemplation.

Tomorrow begins with today.
To look past the present is to miss the future.

Hair Glue

I firmly believe the strangest collection of items in any house can be found in the bathroom.

On the vanity top the other day I noticed a jar labeled Spike Glue for Hair.

Now I don't know about you, but as my kids were growing up I spent a lot of time trying to keep things like Elmer's glue and Play Dough out of their hair, so this product was quite an attention grabber.

I couldn't understand the need for Spike Glue in our house. Neither Motivated Mom nor Media Girl sports a hairstyle resembling a rooster's comb and for that I am very grateful.

I'm sure you're familiar with the hairstyle I'm referring to. A narrow row of hair running down the center of an otherwise clean shaven scalp. The gravity defying strands are frequently multi colored and downright dangerous in appearance. I always assumed such a look was achieved with an aerosol can of spray starch and perhaps an iron. I never imagined maintenance required someone smearing their hands with glue and then combing their fingers through their hair.

What happens if they have to sneeze? Do they dare reach for a tissue or do they just Windex the bathroom mirror when their hair preparations are complete?

Tomatoes & Fruitcake

It was a disappointing season in my backyard vegetable garden this year. My normally green thumb morphed to brown. The tomato plants were lackluster at best and the pepper plants never managed to grow beyond eighteen inches in height.

So I didn't experience the normal pangs of regret when I cut all the plants back and pulled out the roots this past weekend. It wasn't like I was marking the end of a plentiful season.

I'll miss Motivated Mom's homemade spaghetti sauce over the post-summer months. Usually we manage to "put up" at least a couple dozen jars. This year, nothing.

Still, there's other things to look forward to - like the fruitcakes I 'll start baking in another six weeks.

Right now College Dude is rolling his eyes at the mention of those fruitcakes. He believes them to be good for nothing more than a door stop. I keep telling myself that one day he will develop an educated palate and recognize the cakes for the culinary delights that they are.