Monthly Archives: September 2024

Fun, GenX, Humor, Music

Reflections on Vinyl

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A couple of Christmases ago, Mr. NOA bought me a new turntable. It was something I had wanted for a while. We have a finished basement here in House Number 8. Ever since we moved in, I had visions of utilizing that space for random, music-infused friends and family fun times. A turntable with an eclectic collection of vinyl was sure to bring my vision to life.

Thus far, I have only purchased two vinyl albums: Billy Joel’s 52nd Street (a favorite of mine in the 80’s) and “Mellow Gold” which is one of those compilation albums (3 albums in one!) comprised of pop hits from various artists in the 60’s and 70’s. I picked that one based on the songs listed on the back cover. My favorite songs in this compilation include “Sundown” by Gordon Lightfoot, “Doctor my Eyes” by Jackson Browne, and “She’s Gone” by Hall and Oates. There’s also two songs on this album that I recall singing in my “Madrigals” group back in high school: “Baby, I’m Yours” by Barbara Lewis, and “Cherish” by The Association.

I know, I’m such a music nerd.

Friends, I can count on one hand how many times in the last almost two years that I listened to these albums in my happy-good-times finished basement. And the only other person who was ever present with me any of these times was my 10 year-old grandson, while we were creating art together on the big folding table I have down there.

Now, I have faith that my HGT finished basement will become a veritable music-filled hang-out spot as time marches on; for now, however, I’m on a mission to find used vinyl to up the chances this will happen sooner rather than later.

Here’s what I recently found at a local thrift store. Perhaps it should have come home with me-however it seems more fun to consider what is going on with the album cover.

Clearly, these are “fancy” men. They envision being adored by their fans and they dress impeccably. I’m not sure if the red roses are being tossed to them by their audience or if this is just a show to ensure all are aware that these are chivalrous, romantic cis-het men who most certainly shower their ladies with beautiful bouquets on the regular. And what on earth is with the fish?

I’m sure they had an artistic vision for this cover. I was going to continue this snark-fest and pontificate on the song titles featured on the back of this album, but I got distracted by Google. However, before I could put this little blog post out there into the world, I felt compelled to at least do a quick search on this band.

Turns out, Heaven 17 included two of the guys from the Human League, and it appears this album actually was considered great by fans of 80’s English synth-pop. Human League put out one of my very favorite pop songs in the 80’s, “Fascination” which I wrote about here.

So apparently you can’t judge an album by its cover. Nor if you don’t even listen to it.

Speaking of album covers, I picked up a coffee table book (A Brief History of Album Covers by Jason Draper) while thrifting a couple of years ago. I have leafed through it several times and came to the conclusion that I can’t possibly display it lest my grandson gets to looking at it. The commentary within this little treasure is for mature eyes only.

So, tell me, my fellow vinyl lovers, what do you play on your turntable?

Let me leave you with a slightly more recent favorite song of mine, which I stumbled upon whilst perusing YouTube looking for songs to share from my “Mellow Gold” album. Turns out, Beck came out with an album of the same name. I hope you love the absolute weirdness of this video as much as I do.

Adventure, Art, Books, Lifestyle, Positivity, Reading, Travel, Washington DC

Reading and Travel: Past and Soon

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I’m at about the halfway mark with my self-imposed challenge for this year of reading 24 books. Not as far as I thought I’d be at this juncture, but I’ll get there.

One of the books I very much enjoyed is “Life in Five Senses” by Gretchen Rubin.

Essentially, Gretchen, a writer in NYC who pens self-reflective non-fiction, has a moment in her eye doctor’s office that gets her thinking about how she takes her eyesight for granted. This gets her pondering about her sense of hearing, touch, taste, and smell. As a result, she decides she’s going to do a deep exploration of her five senses and document her findings along the way.

She decides to start, naturally, with her sense of sight. She proceeds to visit the Metropolitan Museum of Art on a daily basis. She often did it solo, which is how I most enjoy visiting museums. I felt a kinship with her along with a little slice of envy. She noticed different things on various pieces of art as time went on. Depending on the time of day she was there, the light would hit differently and change the way she saw them.

The Envy Part: I’ve never lived in NYC, nor have I even visited there. I hope to, someday (visit, that is). As a teenager in the ’80s, I would fantasize about living in a NYC brownstone, working as a journalist for Rolling Stone, and meeting up with friends after work for happy hour in one of the many chic nightclubs there. To have the ability to take myself to the Met whenever I pleased as she did for this book-well, I’m envious.

The Kinship Part: The last time Mr. NOA and I traveled to Washington, D.C. together (me as his “plus one” as this was a work trip) was in December of 2022. I took the Metro into D.C. from Silver Spring, Maryland, and visited some Smithsonian museums. It gave me so much pleasure to walk around and check things out that I was interested in at my leisure. I wrote a blog post about it, which included pictures I snapped on my journey while Mr. NOA was busy with work meetings. Yet I never published it.

In fact, I tried looking for it in my “trash” folder but poof! it’s gone. I guess the trash eventually takes itself all the way out, right?

I have no great reason for not publishing it. Maybe it was due to the vibe of the city feeling off in my mind, as the U.S. was coming out of the Covid-19 era and so many businesses had shuttered. Climate change was evident as there was nary a flake of snow on the sidewalks and the temps were strangely mild. We even saw some roses still blooming. It was just a different experience for me than the last time we had been there (December of 2019). The energy was just so subdued. I always like to stay positive in my blog posts, and I guess I just couldn’t muster an acceptable level of positivity to warrant publishing that particular post.

Here’s one picture I took during that trip.

From the Smithsonian American Art Museum-I love this truism: “We are Made of Stories”

Next month, I will be joining Mr. NOA on another work trip to our nation’s capital. I am hopeful and jazzed about this trip. Hope is in the air, as we appear to be on the cusp of moving forward with our country’s leadership. You might think me naive, but I believe the energy in our nation’s capital will reflect this sense of hope. I’ll spend time between now and then researching online what new exhibits I can explore solo at the Smithsonian and elsewhere in D.C.

Any suggestions you have for me (of either the books to read or sites to see in D.C. variety) in the comments are most appreciated!

As a grateful American as well as a fan of The Chicks, who is fascinated with the history of the intersections of pop culture and American history, I leave you with this outstanding version of The Star-Spangled Banner.

Lifestyle, Mental Health, Relaxation, Self Compassion, Self-Care, Storytelling

Massages for Self-Care: Yay or Nay?

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Personally, I say a big fat “Yay!” when it comes to getting a full body massage.

In fact, I just had one the other day. I won’t have another one for probably three months, however, as my talented and very pregnant massage therapist will be on maternity leave for a while. I’m not planning on finding a substitute for her either, because I believe it’s unlikely I’ll find anyone as good as her and heck, it might be nice to save myself a little bit of money.

I started getting massages on a regular basis probably 12 years ago. Mr. NOA and I would pay for the lovely Anna to give us deep tissue massages every 2 weeks or so. She was so good at her job. She was friendly and easy to talk to as well. I would often spend most of the massage chatting with her about the trials and tribulations of parenting, and my work life.

I had such a good connection with her that I was comfortable enough to ask her a question that had been simmering in my head since she started giving me regular massages. I asked her if clients ever farted while enjoying her massages. She replied that they most certainly did and it didn’t faze her at all. She told a story about a male client who often would fall completely asleep on her table and let ‘er rip. She laughed as she told me this and assured me she would not be offended if I had to release some gas myself during my sessions with her.

When I get massages from my current massage therapist, we typically chat for the first few minutes about the weather or what we’ve been up to since my last massage. After that, I zip my lips and just let my body melt beneath her heavenly (and suprisingly strong) hands.

It took me a few sessions with her for me to feel comfortable not being chatty the whole time. It begs the question for those of you reading this today who also are fans of massage therapy: do you feel compelled to chat with your massage therapist when they’re working on you? Or are you more of a “melter” as I have become?

I remember a client I had, back when I was a social worker, who had MS (the relapsing- remitting kind). He got regular massages. It seemed to help him quite a bit. I always believed that, due to him being anti-social and paranoid, his massage therapist was likely the only other human who laid their hands on him, like ever. He lived alone, had few friends and generally did not seem to like people. This always struck me as heartbreaking. I think we often undervalue the power of human touch.

I’ve been in therapy for a few months now (the mental health variety). Recently, my therapist asked me a question I don’t think any other person has ever asked me: what are you doing for self-care? It caught me off guard, and all I could manage was to say that writing is my primary mode of self-care. Not writing just to post in this blog of mine, but writing for just me. It helps me sort through what I’m thinking and feeling and it often gives me needed perspective.

But that’s not all I do for self-care, obviously. The massages I get are deeply relaxing and stress-reducing. Petting and talking to my good boy Radar is a form of self-care. Spending time in the sunshine is a form of self-care for me. Writing a to-do list and checking things off as I go is self-care for me. It give me a sense of accomplishment; a little boost.

Whether or not you, my readers, enjoy massage therapy as a form of self-care, I’d love to read any comments you’d like to share about what specifically you do that falls under the self-care umbrella.

As always, I am ending this blog post with a song. This one is not only gorgeous but fitting for the relaxing and contemplative vibes I experience when I’m on that massage table.