TURN IT UP!

Got the tunes cranked up.

Singing to the top of my lungs.

I-Pod jacked up and dishing it out like there is no tomorrow.

Kinda feel sorry for Jared and Rick since they can't actually hear the backing track to what I am singing so they can't adequately judge if I am on pitch or not.

Too bad.

Seriously, who CARES if I am on pitch? I sure don't! I'm having a great time singing along to the catalog of musical memories that are stored on this tiny memory holder of technology.

I remember in college, my roommates would often remind me (sometimes forcibly!) that I was singing out loud while wearing headphones. Big, clunky, oh-so-heavy Koss headphones that were just what the studio musicians used. I saved up for what seemed like FOREVER to get some. And yes, I DID sing while wearing them -- often and loudly. Sometimes, I was even near the note the pros were pumping into my ears.

Realizing that this kind of musical exercise can blister the ears of other people does nothing to prevent me from repeating my musical crime. Frankly, I am NOT sorry and will continue to do it. There is certain to be some kind of musical jail on the other side of the veil of heaven where I will be punished for torturing others with my insensitivity. Perhaps I will be required to hear a playback of my own singing for all eternity.

That might be a trifle uncomfortable. While I do enjoy singing, I know that I am no Judy Garland, Billie Holiday, or even Kermit the Frog. I have been known to murder the songs of Whitney Houston and Shania Twain with excelsior. Again, shamelessness is a factor here. So maybe it's only fitting that I be compelled to hear myself killing the songs and having the original artists sitting nearby with rocks.

I just hope their aim isn't all that good since they devoted themselves to musical skill perhaps they aren't too accomplished at stone throwing.

There is something almost miraculous about throwing yourself into music, whether of your own creation or singing along with a beloved artist. It is like feeling a bit of emotion that only comes in one path. It is a language separate from any other.

I am currently murdering a Cher song. It is nearer my vocal range, but let's face it, I am NOT Cher under even the most liberal standards of musical performance. But a girl can attempt it, can't she??

As I scroll through the various songs in my repertoire, I realize why I added so many of them. They are just so amazingly fun and emotional. Some of them are gushy romantic songs, some of them are blatant kiss off songs, others are middle of the road feel good songs. They cover all kinds of genres.

I am beyond eclectic in my musical tastes. Schizophrenic is a more apt description.

There are parts of my collection that deliberately speak to elements of my personality that are generally kept under wraps and shielded from the eyes of the innocent and decent. There are other selections that are soaring brilliance of spiritual strength. I admit to having a lot of music that makes me wish I were a more accomplished dancer... okay, that I could dance at all. I do know a few steps, but let's face it, I'm not Solid Gold material (if that reference escapes you, then you missed out on a fabulous TV show!).

When I am feeling particularly militant about my exercise, I have a complete playlist that reflects that mood. Kelly Clarkson features prominently in that list as I love both her voice and her sassy songs. Reba McEntire makes some solid appearances for the same reason. Bachman Turner Overdrive is also a favorite.

In any and all instances, the best response to the music is to turn it up. I like to feel it going through me while it plays. I've always liked that feeling of the flow of the emotional grip of the songs passing through my soul emotionally and physically.

Well, it's about time to head out for other pursuits. Enjoy your day and your own kind of music whatever flavor that may be.

Just remember to TURN IT UP!

Dreaming... I must be dreaming...

I lead an extremely exciting life.

Generally this excitement occurs while I am attempting to sleep. Lately I am not getting a whole lot of sleep, so when I do sleep, the dreams I get are of the strange variety.

Last night's cinema soma was no different.

I get some seriously strange dreams and sometimes some truly awful ones. Thankfully, last night's dreams were just weird and kinda funny.

Last night, I dreamed that I was standing in the hallway looking into the kitchen. The view was pretty impressive as I was watching Gypsy stand on her hind legs and prepare a Thanksgiving dinner.

Not normally known for her culinary skills, in my dream Gypsy was wearing these little red clogs, a miniature set of gold reading glasses perched on her snout, she was attired in a tiny chef hat and an apron and was working her paws to the bone making dressing and preparing the rub for the turkey which Rick would be cooking in the garbage can outside.

It didn't seem too odd while I was sleeping and I even woke myself up asking Rick if after the lovely dinner if Gypsy had "cleaned it all up" and eaten the rest of the turkey. At least I think I woke up. Hmm. In my dream -- or perhaps when I was talking in my sleep or sleeping in my talking, at this point I am not sure -- I remember asking Rick what Gypsy did with the leftovers. I was informed that she ate them. She had made cold turkey sandwiches.

That also didn't seem too odd because Gypsy is a chow hound who thinks Rick's garbage can turkey is a food group all by itself. Come to think of it, I agree with her.

The part about this dream that seemed odd was my recollection that Gypsy's tiny barbecue apron looked suspiciously like mine complete with a tiny cow emblazoned across the bib part of the apron.

As I reflect upon the dream, the chef hat on her head did seem kind of funny. It was perfectly matched for size for her head! Gypsy looked very much like a professional chef with that hat on and I don't think I've ever seen any that tiny anywhere.


I guess I still haven't seen any that small since it happened in my dream.

The only thing that truly puzzles me today upon being awake is just where did Gypsy find her shoes?

Mass merchandisers don't have a large shoe section for dogs. I've never seen anything but dog booties for the cold and those are only in the pet only types of stores or on the internet.

The Gypsy shoes looked really comfortable and I wouldn't even have minded having some of them being just like the ones on Gypsy's feet, red and all, so long as they were in my correct size and didn't hurt my feet. I've never taken her shoe shopping and I must confess the thought never crossed my mind since Gypsy is generally bare-pawed as she prances all over the place. She's never expressed a shoe preference before...

Well, strange dreams are all well and good, but the kicker was when she could talk. That would be pretty awesome since it's usually me and her alone unless Jared's out of school. Then again, having her be able to talk might change the dynamic in the kitchen as Gypsy demanded more high grade foods to prepare for supper.

I sure hope I was dreaming since we are only having pork chops and I haven't seen any tiny red clogs in the kitchen... yet.