Two snaps up, a twist, and a kiss

Ouchies! I keep finding myself snapping my fingers, then suddenly being reminded I had two finger pricks yesterday in each middle finger. Sure, reliving the finger pricks periodically throughout the day has been annoying, but, more interesting, I never realized how often I snap my fingers. (fascinating, I know)

I am a lover of music. I always have been. My mom and I spent every Sunday afternoon listening to Casey Kasem’s American Top 40. We knew where each song had been on the chart the week before and would caterwaul if we felt a song and artist had been unfairly bumped off the chart.

I remember my mom buying my first boombox…she said she knew it was the one for me because the second she pressed its power button in the store, “Stray Cat Strut” started playing. (woo boy, we loved us some cats and anything cat-related…this was my favorite song for a while simply due to its mention of cats…I run deep like that)

You would often find Mom bebopping at the kitchen counter, bouncing her healthy hips in beat to the music. Two things:

1) Don’t think she was at the kitchen counter preparing an awesome meal. She rarely cooked, hence my constant necessity to search the internet on How to Steam Broccoli.
2) Her hips are “healthy” as my mom has not been SOOOO SKINNY since I was born. She claims I ruined her body. I’m sure I also ruined her frame of mind with all the eyeball rolling I did from ages 13-16.

You can still find Mom blaring music from a radio out one of the back windows. Anytime I drop in for a visit, I can hear the music before I even step out of the car. “Mom,” I tell her, “there are noise ordinances in town now. You can’t blast your music all up and down the street.” Her reply, “It keeps the burglars away.”

Back to me (me, me, me, all me), I love my music and have it available in every room of the house. There are stereos in several rooms, a “boombox” (what are those called these days?) in the bathroom, and portable speakers in which to plug an iPod anywhere you please. (And, let me say, I make out with my iPod when no one is looking. All those tunes packed into such a sassy little frame…yeh baby, you know what Mama likes)

What I didn’t realize until today is that whereas my mom does the hippy hippy shake in the kitchen, I channel Frank Sinatra with the constant finger snapping. Fly me to the moon, baby.