You may remember my fascination with a salad bowl a few weeks ago. Well, lo and behold, I found a chip ‘n dip with the same bowl and design! It was an eBay find and I snatched it up quickly. I had been seeing this particular type of chip ‘n dip, with a small holder for the dip/sauce bowl that sits on the larger bowl, and had been close to purchasing one, but never knew it came in “my bowl.” It was a pleasant little surprise and has made my fascination, okay, who am I kidding, obsession with these bowls grow a little more. There must be more out there, and searching for them will become a new adventure for me.
“La Vie En Rose” was written in 1945 by Edith Piaf, Louis Guglielmi, and Marguerite Monnot. First, I’ll start off by saying that though I don’t know French, Edit Piaf’s singing gets me. . .right. . .there. While she had a tumultuous life, she could use every experience and emotion she lived through to inject into her music, lyrics wise and vocally. When she sings, you feel it, whether you know the exact words she is singing or not. She wrote the lyrics to some brilliant songs, “La Vie En Rose” being one of the best. And while I can only go off of the translated version, I can’t really offer a more beautiful and enchanting song about love.
Once I get the notion that I want an item, it turns into an unyielding mission that I focus on, probably too much. When the notion arose for a secretary desk, it was no different. I longed for one, preferably one I could paint. However, when the initial search began, my heart quickly dropped upon seeing the average price of one. Whether it was an original, with no work done on it, or one someone had “shabby-chiced,” (I know that’s not a word) the prices were, well, crazy, to be honest. Most I found, online or in person, were $300-600. Cue cartoon me with my eyes popping out of my head and jaw dropping to my feet.
Some of my best finds are the random ones, the ones I don’t even know I want until I see them. This beautiful salad bowl was like a bolt of lightning, jolting me with such awe when I saw it. The fun shape, striking design, and delightful black and gold rectangles and starbursts were of such a combination that I was helpless against its allure. Resistance was futile.
“Time After Time” was written in 1947 by Sammy Cahn and Jule Styne, and introduced in the movie It Happened in Brooklyn by Frank Sinatra and later, Kathryn Grayson.
Oh, this song! I don’t think I can even do it the justice it deserves, but I will give it a tolerable attempt. Listening to this song, and letting it engulf me, brings the feeling as if I could crumble and be swept away on the wind. It’s the ultimate in piercing straight to my unapologetic, sentimentally plagued soul.
In 1956, Chet Baker recorded a version that intensifies this already divine song. It is soft, warm, and lingering, with so much coming from the heart. His vocals glide along with the music, to craft an unmistakable, not only sound, but impression upon the heart. It’s incredibly easy to lose oneself and entwine oneself with the music and the quality it possesses.
There was a green one sitting in the kitchen, under the yellow rotary phone when I was growing up. There was one sitting in my grandparents’ kitchen, under the window, where I could look out and see across my Gramps’ field to my house.
“It’s Not For Me To Say” was written in 1957 by Robert Allen and Al Stillman for the movie Lizzie. It was originally performed, and is mostly associated with Johnny Mathis. He had the most successful version of the song, but Bing Crosby’s version is by far my most beloved. Oh, the response this invokes in me! It’s such a beautiful song, with lyrics such as:
As far as I can see, this is heaven
And speaking just for me, it’s ours to share
Perhaps the glow of love will grow
With every passing day
Or we may never meet again
But then it’s not for me to say
I have always loved sports. I grew up playing them, in the backyard and officially organized. I grew up watching them, in a seat at games or glued to the TV, screaming and cheering in both instances. I am forever loyal to my teams, even when they’re at the bottom. I have lived in San Diego over 10 years, and you can ask any San Diego sports fans I’ve encountered how deep my loyalty runs. A season where the Chiefs finished 2-14, I was at Qualcomm in my red shirt rooting my team on, even though they seriously had no chance. Boy, did they stink that year, sort of like this year. I may get frustrated when my teams don’t do well, and I may be a little morose over losses, but I still love them. I get very into games and am very passionate, to the point I may alarm the people who are watching games with me. “Don’t worry about me, I’m just over here having a heart attack and needing an IV drip!”
I decided to do a series of posts about certain songs that . . . just do something to my insides. I don’t know if I can adequately put into words the feeling I’m given by these songs, but I’m going to do my best. Music is an important part of my life, and can generate such an array of emotions and there are so many musicians and songs that I love. These songs, though, are the ones that make my soul flourish. They cause an internal and beyond reaction, a sensation that makes my heart well-up and about burst. It’s an agreeable feeling, mixed with an ache, but one that I know will be soothed. . .some day. If you reference back to my post, Please Step On My Toes, you’ll get a bit of an understanding of the context of these songs for me. I have a play list of these songs, and I’ll go through them one by one, in no particular order.
First up, “I Can’t Give You Anything But Love,” written by Dorothy Fields and Jimmy McHugh in 1928. Like most older songs, there are quite a few covers and versions. The one that gets me right in the essence of my being is from 1947 from Django Reinhardt with Freddie Taylor on vocals. For anyone who may not know Django Reinhardt, he was a French guitarist most prominent in the 1930s and 1940s.
Before I ever started school, I would accompany my Mom and my Gramma to the grocery store to stock up on food and essentials. My Mom would throw me in the backseat (not literally) and we would drive up the road to pick my Gramma up. She would climb into the front seat, dig through her purse, and hand me a half a piece of Trident gum. There may be some debate on when to give a child gum, but that was a highlight for me. We would then drive to town to go to the only grocery store.