Music Appreciation (or, how I am amusing myself at your expense)

So today I am working Day 2 of my friends' wine festival, and it is a drop-dead gorgeous day, sunny, blue skies, in the low 70s and the leaves have just started changing. So that means 700-800 festival guests per day, many from NYC, wealthy, snobby and each one amazed and annoyed that 799 other people had the same idea as them to come here. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy working the festival, I love the winery owners, I always manage to have a good time here and as usual in any customer service/retail/hospitality job, 10% of the people are beyond wonderful, 80% are normal and 10% should just... go away.



I'm stationed at the back register in the retail store, and to give the place a little ambiance there is always something classical or folk or acoustic on the CD player. I have been playing the above album on repeat (I am so busy I mostly block it out). Some of the pieces sound new age/electronic but some are decidedly classical interpretations. I am loving how many people recognize those as classical style but cannot identify that it is Pink Floyd. They hum along, they wonder what composer it is, why they recognize the piece but just can't place it. If they ask I tell them it's the London Philharmonic. If they press I tell them the composer is Wright, or Gilmour, or Waters. They smugly nod "Ah yes, that's who I thought it was..."

Now my feet won't touch the ground

I know, I know, no new posts for a month. What a lame blogger. Even my mom has been giving me a hard time about it. Nothing has inspired me lately, and in fact the month has flown right past me in a blur. I had a big conference in Chicago at the end of April, followed by a long weekend in Phoenix to visit a dear friend and recuperate from the week in Chicago (and while in Phoenix, A. and I did our fair share of economy-boosting for the shoe industry, specifically Donald J. Pliner, but I digress).

Perhaps I was on blog overload. Coming home to a Google Reader with close to 1000 unread posts was a bit overwhelming, I must say. "Mark all as read" seemed a bit like abandoning someone else's children, but I had to do it.

So maybe this bit of silliness will put me back to rights. A little Life in Technicolor, a la Punch & Judy, via Coldplay, in honor of the absolutely fantastic concert of theirs I attended last night here in Hartford. The tix were a birthday gift from The BF, who gave me a small case of Option Anxiety earlier in the day by offering me a choice of birthday activities, each of which involved some sort of live performance. After an afternoon of deliberating the merits of each, I went with the one that seemed the most celebratory, and a good time was had by all.



More Coldplay/puppet action here, if you are so inclined.

I Miss The Muppet Show

It would make this recession so much easier if The Muppet Show was on again, don't you agree?

Rockin' Robin, tweet tweet tweet

Rockin' Robin, as sung by the Jackson Five, was the bane of my grammar school existence. John Turner used to sing it to me every day on the bus. Also, lots of jokes about Batman and Robin, Robin (robbing) the bank, Robin Hood, etc. Hilarious. But the song was the worst. Over and over, every day. Kind of like the way it is stuck in your head now. He rocks through the treetops, all day long...


Third-grade angst aside, lets talk about tweeting. As in Twitter. As in I am in a self-taught crash course in Twitter via a personal account so I can start Twittering professionally for work (is that an oxymoron or what?). I was trying to avoid this, but apparently all the kids are doing it, even in the business world, and I figured its safer to muddle my way through on my own before I create a profile for work and drag our sterling reputation into the muck and mire of social networking, late to the game though we may be.


Besides Julia @hookedonhouses (and thanks again Julia for my first tweet) do any of you Twitter? Got any advice, tips, or tweets for me? You can find me at @abirdinthehand.




He rocks in the tree tops all day long
Hoppin' and a-boppin' and singing his song
All the little birdies on Jaybird Street
Love to hear the robin go tweet tweet tweet


Rockin' robin, tweet tweet tweet
Rockin' robin' tweet tweetly-tweet
Blow rockin' robin
'Cause we're really gonna rock tonight...

Hang on little tomato

Silly little tomato doesn't realize it's October. It's the size of a golf ball and hard as a rock, and with 48-degree days and another frost predicted for this weekend, the tomato and the last vestiges of parsley and basil on my little balcony garden are doomed.

Go listen to the song that inspired the title of this post. It's a Pink Martini kind of afternoon.

Swapimus Autumnus

Sherri over at The Claw held a little Fall Swap and here are the goodies that came to me from the shores of Maine via Erin at Only A Movie:

In addition to a lovely book by Anna Quindlen and fantastic mix-CD (Brandi Carlisle! Paolo Nutini! Glen Hansard!), she included two "Maine" products: French clay soap from Beane's of Gorham and a wonderful terrycloth cosmetics case (lined with gorgeous vintage floral fabric) by PixieGenne. Thanks Erin! I love it all!

A Rainy Home Companion

I grew up listening to Garrison Keillor and A Prairie Home Companion every Saturday night. I loved the familiar notes of the opening song,* the goofy commercials for duct tape, rhubarb pie and Powdermilk Biscuits, the guy who makes all the sound effects, and the folksy News From Lake Wobegon. Although the show is taped live at the Fitzgerald Theater in St. Paul each week, the majority of the audience is via radio. From time to time they take the show on the road; I've seen it live once at Radio City Music Hall many, many moons ago, and each summer it comes to Tanglewood for one show.

The BF and I were going to drive up to Tanglewood to see tonight's live broadcast, but alas, this is the forecast: thunderstorms, followed by scattered thunderstorms. Not conducive to sitting outside on the lovely Tanglewood lawn or under their metal and wood Music Shed filled with electrical equipment.

Sigh. Oh well, there's always next year...

*Well look who's comin'
Through that door
I think we've met somewhere before
Hello Love
Hello Love
Now where in the world
You've been so long?
I've missed you so since you've been gone
Hello Love...

Rock yourself to sleep

{embroidered pillowcase, Hard Rock Hotel Chicago}

The Hard Rock franchise takes Rock 'n' Roll very seriously. Every hotel floor is named for different band or musician, with iconic photos engraved on 8 foot x 8 foot metal plates and glass cases with signed costumes or instruments (or both) in every elevator lobby. This visit I'm staying on the "Chicago" floor, with one of their old autographed (and heavily scarred) pianos and a trombone in a glass case by the elevator. Ever since I checked in (two days ago), their early hit ("Does Anybody Really Know What Time It Is?") has been running through my head. Over. And over. And over. Even after I sang a few lyrics of "Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This)" for the fab assistant Kelly when she said "I'm on the Annie Lennox floor, who is she?", I'm still stuck with "twenty-five or -six to foooouuurrrr...."

Anyway, the real reason for this post was to show off the sweet little guitars embroidered on the pillow cases. I am a sucker for details, and this is the type of little touch that sets a hotel apart from the rest.

Tell the truth now, how many of you know have either of those songs running through your head? And how impressed are you with yourself that you remember most of the lyrics?