Name that tune, or that mixtape

This morning in the car, driving home after dropping off the kids, I was listening to the radio and thinking about how the idea of a “playlist” seems to have replaced the old-fashioned notion of a ”mixtape” since tape has sort of faded into the misty haze of oblivion as a medium of choice.

Then I open my Daily Candy and what do I find?  But a flash telling me the mixtape is making a comeback.

Thanks to dear, darling, birthday girl Liv (everybody sing “happy, happy birthday!”) I already had an inkling.  Thanks to her I can goof around in my kitchen singing along to “Sweet Escape” and drive long distances waiting for the next John Mayer gem to come along, right after that great Amy Winehouse tune.  La Liv is my source for new stuff I ought to listen to (even though my slow inernet connection means I never can watch those video clips she posts…) and I’m dazzled by her ability to soundtrack her life with the perfect song at the perfect moment.  (The only other person I know who succeeds at that so well is Nancy Dancehall…).  She even held a “contest” of sorts recently and the prize is — what?  Yeah!  A mixtape!  She is giving away prizes on her birthday.  Cool, huh?

If you’d like to rediscover the magic that is/was the mixtape, Daily Candy suggests you meander over to ‘mixtapes bring smiles‘.   Here’s the blog’s intent:

Some of you may already know that I have been trying to revive the lost art of the mixtape. The mixtape is at the edge of extinction and even though many of us may not miss the limitations of the magnetic cassette (e.g. no skip function) you have to admit you miss the little thing, you miss dubbing cd’s, taping songs off the radio and making and receiving mixes. And it’s probably been a while since any of you have been handed one of these from a girl or guy with a nervous smile and a “I hope you like this.” And that’s what I’m trying to change. I’m the girl in the lunchroom with pigtails and braces and I have a crush on all of you and want to give you a mixtape of my favorite songs. This blog is the future of the lost art of mixtape making. The tapes are gone, but the personal touch is back. And if you like what you hear (you can listen to partial mixes) you can drop me a line at mixtapesbringsmiles@gmail.com to be added to the email list whenever a new mix is posted. The ipod is convenient as a bastard, but the random function isn’t really doing for you what I can.

 

 

 

Weekly Words: Earth and Seven

Tink picked Earth and Seven for the final combo in the current theme.  I’ve been distracted, so one photo is new and the others are dug (get, it, EARTH?) out of the archive.  See if you can tell which is which….

I’m experimenting with the new gallery feature here at wordpress.  (I’m assuming that most of y’all have a faster connection than I do and clicking on photos to enlarge is a piece o’ cake.)  Let me know what you think of “gallery” vs. just posting the photos.

Oh, and happy vacation, Tink!

Cracked

I was once the wife of someone who went on those boondoggle business trips where everyone converges on some resort in some lovely landscape and when they aren’t locked in a meeting room talking about whatever it is that’s going to make money, there are activities and tours and freebies.  (Now I am the ex of someone whose company is giving employees wii just for giggles.)

Even though I suppose my marriage was already on the rocks (har har) that is how I got the chance to go rock climbing. 

I chose that over a massage or the jeep ride through the dessert.  I’d never done it before and figured I’d never have the chance again.  The errant pile of boulders in the middle of a desert habitat seemed like an interesting challenge.  And I needed a good challenge.  My marriage was failing, my spirit slowly fading away.

We (me and the mr.) got brief instructions and the run down on safety (why this was safe and how to be sure we kept it that way) and we put on the cool shoes and harness.

I think back to that experience often.  The sun warming my back.  Trying to do something I’d never done before. 

I like rock climbing.  I like how it can be slow, or fast.  I like how it is mental, like chess, but physical, trying to balance the exertion between upper and lower body to get up the rock face.  I like how closely you have to study the rock, looking for the tiniest of handholds.  You notice things you’d never see otherwise.

That day, I loved how the further I got from the bottom, away from the instructor, the more I got a little more fluttery, but determined.  I loved that I beat the Mr. to the top, figuring out my path myself and garnering a cheer from the instructor below. 

I loved the reward at the top.  Desert wildlife nesting in a rock hold, guarding her babies.

I went home to reclaim my babies, and eventually sent the mr. on his way once he starting taking a girlfriend on boondoggle trips instead of me.

Boondoggle.

the very cockles

6:30 am

zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

“Mommy?  Happy Mother’s Day.”

Crack one eye to see Thing One standing next to my bed holding tray of cheerios and orange juice.

And you?

Am I overthinking this?

I was at a kid event.  It’s the day before mother’s day.

There are three families who know each other because the kids go to school together.

The rep from Family A says to the rep from Family B “So what do y’all have planned for mother’s day?”

Family B replies “Oh, the daughter has a soccer tourney and then we are having a bunch of people over to the house.  How about you?”

Family A replies “Oh, the usual.”

And no one asked Family C, single mom family, what we would be doing for mother’s day.  Is that another divorce stigma?  I’m not a “real” family so holidays like that don’t count?  Or I’m a divorced mom and so questions like that are uncomfortable to ask?  Is the holiday about what others do FOR the mom and since there’s no one to do FOR me there’s no point in asking the question?

It wasn’t that I was offended or anything.  (Well, another option is that they hate me and dont’ give a shit what I’m doing, but I choose to leave that thought on the garbage scow…)

It just made me wonder about the nature of the holiday.  How we define family.  What do these holidays mean?

I suspect I will be served a bowl of Cheerios in bed tomorrow.  And that’s my charming story.  (The other option is that they will bounce on my bed and enthuse about going out for doughnuts…)

Tippling

 We decided to have special beverages with dinner.

Out came the handblown martini glass with the tiny gold crown painted on the rim, the crystal wine glass, and the tall thin hula girl glass for the mommy.

Time for mixology class.  An assortment of ingredients were made available:  ginger ale, orange juice, grenadine (wait, is that the red stuff?), blue berry juice.

We invented “The Lava Pit” and I’m quite sure it will be a new favorite here.  Layers of colors suspended in ginger ale.

Cheers!  Drink up.

Then, from Thing Two:  “For god’s sake, write down the recipe!”

The office was in a different place

Up, up, up in the groovy art deco elevator.  I could almost pretend I was in NYC.

I arrived at the new, bigger, nicer office and it appeared to be empty.  No intern manning the front desk.  Lights out in the offices along the hallway.

I wondered if this was a test, to see how long I would stand quietly in reception before I made a noise, or marched down the hall to find someone.  All was well; I was discovered, news of my arrival spread and word came back that The Man was on a phone call.  Lots of great reading in the waiting room, so I had a fine time.

The interview went well.  I try to make these things a conversation instead of a grilling, and had mixed success with that today.  He likes accuracy so when I indicated the size of a document using my thumb and index finger, I was corrected and told the document was smaller than that (using his thumb and index finger).  I then got caught up wondering how important it was to verify that I knew this all along and was simply exaggerating, not that I’m prone to such things as exaggeration, mind you, and did I mention the list of courses I took in grad school and….

My impression is that I am the last person to be interviewed and the field has been narrowed to just a few. though some late-arriving resumes may lengthen the consideration period.  That is just fine by me, as I am still palpitating about those two other irons in the fire.  Both will pay better and be more flexible than this position, but I have to say that on the train home, my mind was racing with ideas for people to tap for useful info, new products that would help support a “branding” shift that needs to happen, etc.  Oh, and I decided they need a blog.

Doesn’t everyone?

All the news thats

I’ve just spent a couple hours sitting next to a delightful Frenchman.

I would like the opportunity to do that more often.

Because I was part hostess of this event, I had on heels, and a dress and perfume.  I checked with my full-length mirror and my kids for fashion approval (yeah, I know, it’s a little sad that a seven year old is my style counselor; where’s Tim Gunn when you need him?). 

The politico’s office said they would handle the publicity and they did a less-than shitty job.  We will take care of all the event details next time and it will be an excellent event.  However, if we’d had a big turnout tonight, I would not have ended up at a table seated next to the delightful Frenchman.

I dazzled the fellow with my copious knowledge, and then I had the audacity to job network at the end of the evening.  Zounds.

 

Can the Hokey-Pokey bring good luck?

Put your right foot in, take your right foot out, put your right foot in, then you shake it all about….

The interview that was going to be today has been postponed to Friday afternoon, so put on your happy vibe hat for me then.

And in the meantime, I was just sitting here, minding my own business, when another fabulous job posting arrived in my inbox!  Hurray for me.

I immediately clicked on the boss’s email address, attached a snazzy new rendition of my resume and the recently-received recommendation from a former boss (which calls me “smart, funny, persistent, capable and determined” — sounds good, eh?).  I banged out a compelling cover note (possibly a mistake, maybe I should have let it sit overnight) and hit send. 

Fingers crossed, y’all!

Three irons in the fire.  That feels good.

One hundred guys in my dating inbox.  That feels…. odd.

Best to focus on the job, methinks.

[I finished a press release for the freelance thing I'm working on (for free) today.  It came out well and I have strong hopes I can score some media coverage.  That would make me feel like I still have a clue what I'm doing.]

The Claw

It’s a lovely evening so the cherubs and I decided it would be ideal for a stroll up the street to get dessert.  It’s a “family restaurant” (which means lots of cheap, fried food on the menu and the risk of sitting in a booth next to a passel of unruly squawkers).  We went to the take-out window.

Thing One ordered his favorite, swapping out their given choice for a brand-spankin’ new flavor that includes chocolate and peanut butter.

Thing Two ordered a creation of his own invention and I had to commend our counter gal on her ability to bury the ice cream in gummy bears.  It was stunning and I’d wished I’d brought my camera.  The sun is heading toward setting and has that blazing yellow glare going on; I pushed Thing Two toward the glass doors and bid both of them stare into the jewel-like bears in the cup.  (This is my Word Picture; if I’d had my camera, those illuminated bears would now be my FIRE photo for today’s Weekly Words challenge…)

The Cherubs peered into the restaurant proper and noticed there’s a new claw machine.  You know, those bandits they post anywhere you will have to wait for any period of time where you plug in coinage, use a joystick to manipulate the claw above, and press a button to retrieve the stuffed animal or toy of your choice from the sea below.  But everything in there weighs more than the claw can actually lift, so even if you get those tines around Mickey’s head, he will slip right out as soon as you attempt to raise him toward the escape chute.

There’s a big sign hanging over the machine now:  NEW PRIZES!  EASIER TO WIN!

Thing One assured me some girl had just won because he’d heard her exclaim as much.

“But what if,” I suggested, since it’s my duty as a cynical mom to plant the seed of skepticism in them at an early age, “what if that’s just a tape that plays every so often.  That way, while you’re sitting there eating, you hear someone say they won and you figure it’s worth trying on your way out the door, but really, it was just a tape recording and no one ever wins!”

He refuses to be that jaded yet.

But it got me thinking.

This online dating service is exactly like the Claw machine.  There’s that giant glass box just loaded with goodies.  Of course, you can’t really make out what’s what in there because the glass is kind of scratched up and all the prizes are all jammed together in there.  But, oh, wouldn’t it be so cool to win!

So you plunk your money in the slot, fiddle around with the controls, attempt to pry one out of the crowd, realize they are all junk and the whole thing is really just a big con anyway.

I called them this afternoon to see if perhaps there was some sort of “try us out” period and I could cancel and get my money back.  Cleverly, the Dating Service has a “no refunds” policy.  Just like The Claw.