Tuesday, January 15, 2008

Would you stand back baby cause I wanna get a better look.

No alarms went off this morning, and I had a leisurely dream in which I was singing Bonnie Raitt at a friend's karaoke party, some obscure song that I magically knew all the words to, and I was lounging on the furniture and singing it all perfectly, no effort, no crazy opera vibrato (dudes, you have no idea how hard it is to control), just languid lovely country-blues sound. I can't tell you how good it felt, how I actually thought in the dream "this is exactly how singing with a mic is supposed to go." Did I tell you about the famous opera singer who did "Jolene" at the latest karaoke wedding reception I attended? It sounded exactly the way you would imagine it sounding, like when you make fun of opera singers (which my sister Mol very much enjoys doing). Fortunately, the famous opera singer's children broke my heart a few minutes later by singing "Country Road, Take Me Home" in the purest little trebles. Seriously, I cried (you are not surprised, I know).

I didn't really need an alarm this morning, since I don't work on Tuesdays. It was nice to sleep all the way until 9, to get up when the sun is already evident. We're having sparkly, brilliant, butt-ass-cold weather right now. It looks much better than it feels, all razor-sharp sunlit edges against the blue sky and razor-sharp winds in your tender grill. I ate steel-cut oats for breakfast and read your blogs and then I went to the gym and brutalized my legs on the track for awhile and lifted some weights. I had a very zen run on Sunday, a very in-the-moment, not counting the laps kind of run, and I was interested in replicating it. Sadly, I think these zen runs will be few and far between. In fact, I had to resort to my old motivational standbys, "Go Go Gadget Gospel" and "Get Me Bodied" for the second mile. That's right, I'm talking about two miles here. However, I must point out that I just looked at a bunch of posts from this time last year, and while I was listening to the same music, at that point I was lucky to run 3 consecutive quarters of a mile.

Another thing I realized from looking at old posts is that I used to be a much more interesting writer, possibly because I had fewer claims on my time.

I'm cooking chickpeas tonight. Are you like me, always having the best of intentions about soaking and preparing dried beans instead of opening a can? I open so many cans. The convenience is key, but as Deee-lite said in like 1991, "convenience is the enemy." So true! They were speaking of the environment, of course.

Anyway, I always have an assortment of dried beans in the cabinet, but since I am all about loque when it comes to preparing dinner, I almost never plan ahead for meals. I just get home from work and make something. I am trying to change my evil ways. Dried beans are dirt cheap, you buy them in bulk so the packaging is your own and is reusable, and they are far more delicious than their canned friends.

I need to work on my timing, though. I need to go to bed immediately and those little shits still aren't tender.

2 comments:

  1. michelle/weaker vessel1/16/08, 8:33 AM

    Holy crap, I have this same problem w/ the dried beans dilemma. In my dotage, it's really hard to plan ahead 12+ hours to make a batch, but it feels almost sinful not to when you can get a whole pot for the same price as a 14 oz. can.

    My motivational standbys are "Transformer" and "Upgrade U," although I did add "Get Me Bodied" to the mix this year at your suggestion.

    Also, I am somehow comforted to know that I am not the only dorkette in the world who still devotes brain cells to the memorized lyrics of Deee-lite deeper cuts. Why can't I transfer that shit over to a dedicated soak-the-beans reminder system?

    Oh, and one last thing -- I have always been curious about vibretto control. My HS boyfriend's older sister Rosalba was an opera-singer-in-training, and she was always singing Top 40 hits in formal, super-vibretto stylee around their homestead, but I always assumed that was just an outgrowth of her general insufferable douchiness.

    (longest. comment. ever. Why don't I just freaking blog already?)

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  2. Michelle, I would gladly trade some 90s lyrics for more efficient household management skillz.

    And I would say that your ex-b's older sister was probably just a douche. It's only when all the pop/rock has been trained out of your voice that it gets really hard to sing Dusty Springfield in a straightforward way.

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