Posts Tagged ‘music’

I decided to take advantage of the weekend (and a visit from my mother-in-law) and escape for an hour or so to run the actual course of next week’s 5K (my first).

Beautiful weather. 70 degrees. Light breeze.

Parked the car at the course start. Pulled out my iPhone with recently downloaded motivational running songs. Plugged in.

Hit Play. Song One.

Ok, let’s go.

Woot!  Woot!  Yay, me.

Begin run. 10 – 12 seconds later.

Song One inexplicably skips to Song Two.


Glance down at phone.  Continue run.

Hm.  That was weird.

Song Two skips to Song Three.   Then, Song Three skips to Song Four.

What?!  Is this thing on shuffle?

Stop running. Glare at phone waiting for next skip.

Song Four happily continues to play.  And, play more.  No apparent sign of weird shuffle function.


Everything normal.   Start to run again.

A few seconds.  Song Four skips to Song Five.

Ugh!  WTF?

So irritating. Stop running.

On plays Song Five.   No skip.

Run again.  And, of course…suddenly Song Six.  Stupid.  Stop again.

Screw it.

I give up on the songs I downloaded specifically for this run and switch to Pandora where I take my chances with the old stand-by “Similar to Salt-n-Pepa” Channel.

‘Cause Kriss Kross’ll make me.  Jump.  Jump.  Daddy Mac’ll make me…Jump.

Wait.  Where was I?

So, whatever.  I made it.  Totally hating my iPhone for 3 miles.  Mad that it failed me in my critical time of need.

When I got home I decided to spend some time digging around in my phone settings.

You probably knew I’d find this.    Didn’t you?

Shake to shuffle.  On.

Who the hell knew about Shake to Shuffle?  And it’s a default setting?

Yeah.  Not that great for a run.

I’m an idiot.

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The Man Song.

Holy cow.

This might just be my very.  favorite.  video.   ever.

Happy Weekend!

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Day Five of Potty Training. Last hard core day. We’re in good shape and ready to step out and breathe the fresh air without (too much) fear of imminent wet pants (or worse) disaster.

I’ve mentioned before that Little Brother is all about Jason Mraz. “I’m Yours” has been an anthem around here for a while now so this little video that I discovered yesterday afternoon is a fitting accompaniment to our weekend release from potty prison.

Way to go, Little Brother.  Now, let’s go outdoors.

“Cause I won’t stay inside, no more, no more.”

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Since Husband is more than a little convinced that if I blog about going away for a few days, we will return to a house stripped for parts like an old Chevy, I wouldn’t normally tell you this.  But, because he’s not joining us and would therefore greet you with at the door with a Louisville Slugger, I’ll let you in on that fact that I’m packing up the kids and the dog today and heading north to my beautiful hometown of Dorset, Vermont for a few days.

And, I can’t wait.   The boys (lazy yellow labrador included) and I are heading up for a few days filled with tromping through backyard fields, walking the golf course with the dogs, hiking child-sized trails and enjoying the company of beloved Marnie, Jeff and (the anti-lazy yellow Labrador) Daschiel.

Like in Marblehead, they’ve had a boatload of rain over the last month or so.  Which means the Green Mountains will be Ireland-green.  The flowers will be up, the trees blooming and, while I’ll miss the whiff of ocean in my own town, I’ll smile as my children and I breathe deep the smell of fresh cut grass, fresh cut FRESH, fresh cut CLEAN.   Ahhhhh.   Do you know that smell?  If you don’t, go find it.

Between us and Vermont, however, remains the chore of packing endless bags of sh*t needed to sustain two young boys, a dog and me for five days.   While my Mom kindly stocked the fridge of essentials for us, I need to get off this computer and get moving on packing the clothes, shoes, favorite blankets, favorites lovies (Baaah and Bunny), diapers, wipes, Kandoo, kibble, games, DVD player, kid CDs, Zhu Zhus, car snacks, juice boxes and booster seats.   Then I will stuff whatever I can into giant black garbage bags (classy, no?) before throwing them into the new car.  Because the big, hairy dog will be with us (bye, bye new car smell) and I could knit a sweater with the hair he will shed through the trip.


But, we will arrive.  And breathe.  And play.  And love.  And be loved.

I used to drive home from college in my Hyundai (seriously), without a darn care in the world, and play this song over and over on my 8-track cassette player.   Of course, I know it’s about West Virginia and not Vermont but it still makes me think about going home.

So, here you go.  Take me home, John.

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Obsessed with this song right now.  Sharing it with you.   ‘Cause I’m all generous like that.

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My two year old is obsessed with Jason Mraz.  I know.  Weird.  But, he totally is.  We Tivo’d “Farm Air Presents Jason Mraz” and I’m not kidding when I tell you that Little Brother wants to watch it every hour of every day.   And, while we were in Hell this week, I swear we must have watched Jason Mraz sing “I’m Yours” three hundred and ninety-seven times.  Roughly.

And, Jason Mraz is now ever present in our conversations, too.  For example:

In the car from the backseat:

“Where are we going, Mommy?”
“Just a few errands.”
“Jason Mraz’ house?”

Or, the other night when Big Brother was miserably sick and Little Brother was still blissfully healthy and we found Little Brother using Big Brother’s toothbrush:

“No, no, no!  J., where’s your toothbrush?”
“Umm.  Jason Mraz.”
“Jason Mraz has your toothbrush?!”

It could certainly be worse, I suppose.  If it were Big Brother (a victim of my Magic 106.7 tendencies), Taylor Swift might stop in for visit and then I’d get all self-conscious and have to brush my hair or something to hold Husband’s attention.

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…I went down, down, down
And the flames went higher.

Did you miss me?   Well, I’ve been away.  I went on a six day walkabout through Hell.  Hades.  The Underworld.   Old Dante had nothin’ on me.

And Hell hath no fury like a stomach bug passed along from a five year old to a two year old within a very loooooong six day span.

Ah, where to begin?  How about this?  If I asked you to name the locations at which you would least like your children to throw up you’d probably say…?

#1.  Their beds?   Course.

#2.  Your bed?  Oh, yes.   A few times, in fact.

#3.  Inside a friend’s car?  Charming.  How to make friends and influence people…

#4.  On your computer?!  Awesome.  (As you all can imagine, this was the worst for me.  It happened on day one of my six-days in Hell and oohh, it hurt.  Funeral rites were performed.  And the replacement was not cheap.)

I won’t go into any more detail.  Suffice to say that it was all hideous and stinky and awful and I felt very sorry for my kids and even more sorry for myself.

I hear it rained?  We had a little wind?  What happened to Boner?  There was a hockey game?

But, the boys appear to have come out of the dark, dark place and into the light and onward we go.  School for Big Brother today, grocery store for Little Brother and me, life returns.

My washing machine desperately needs a day off.   So, do I.

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About nine years ago, I was a little nervous to meet an old friend of my then-boyfriend (now-husband) who I had heard a lot about. Fun stories mostly, nothing really intimidating, but he was really the last of Husbands’ close friends that I hadn’t met and I wanted to make a good impression. We were meeting up (with others) at a bar in Fanueil Hall and while I could get myself there today, I have no clue what its name might be.

Anyway, long story short, he gave me the thumbs up. But not because I was good to Husband (then Boyfriend) or because I came from a good family. He approved of me because I could sing (and did sing) every word to “The Devil Went Down to Georgia” by the Charlie Daniels Band. With that on my resume, he figured I was cool enough to hang with his buddy.
I love that song. Love it. L-o-v-e it. Preferably played very loudly.
And there have been many and various knock-offs of this classic that have all, in my opinion, fallen flat. Nothing even entered the CDB stratosphere.
Last night I watched the CMA Awards for about 15 minutes. And, to be honest, I watched them because I was bossily not going to let Husband watch another minute of Fox News in my presence. So, I pretended that I really wanted to watch the Country Music Awards when, frankly, I could care less about them.
But during those 15 minutes we were introduced to the Zac Brown Band. And we witnessed this. Then we rewound and rewatched. Again. And then again. Three times. And, now twice this morning. Just makes me smile. Awesome.

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