Favorites on Friday: The Butter Candle

I decided the blog needed some voice, so Fridays should be about the things that had a positive influence over the last seven days.

Happy (Done) Holidays!

I'm a bad American: I find great joy when the holidays end and life goes back to normal, but I still get to stay home and chill all day in my pajama pants. On that note . . .

Get any good loot, Karen?

As a matter of fact, yes.

A couple years pre-COVID ago, I started this annual tradition around Christmas where I considered buying a Peleton . . . and do not for a variety of really good reasons.

Well, that tradition ended in 2023 because I BOUGHT A PELETON! I got rid of some furniture in the study, hustled some shoes and a mat, and the rest is history!

I finally pulled the trigger because I need to prioritize exercise and currently getting to the gym, walking on the trail, etc. is inconvenient. In addition to that, most of the prevalent spin classes at my gym did not reappear after COVID (probably because everyone bought Peletons). Recently even the Les Mills equipment also peaced out.

May this four-digit investment not become a great place to hang sweaters.

Any Adventures?

Well of course. I went to Houston. Saw Trolls 3 with my nieces and nephew. Cleaned house like my life depended on it. Am now basking in the glory of order as I type this.

Food

Y'all, I made a butter candle. This was the easiest, yet fanciest, not-so-health-iest thing I've ever done:

I mean, it's a butter candle. Did you expect it to be healthy?

That said, a new year has begun and all old-year things such as butter candles are now a distant memory. For now anyway.

The Songs

I found a copy of Rolling Stones' 500 Greatest Albums of All Time at an estate sale for ten bucks. So I'm listening to stuff randomly, prioritizing things I'm not familiar (and cheating because there's also stuff I really like). This week has included:

# 242: Loaded The Velvet Underground: Very 1970s. Why did I think Velvet Underground involved David Bowie? Well, I did. Sorry Lou Reed.

# 159: Synchronicity The Police: I love The Police. Eighties rock/ new wave/ reggae/ choose-your-own-label at its finest, their fifth and final album is also recognizable stuff: Wrapped Around Your Finger, King of Pain, Synchronicity II, and, of course, Every Breath You Take.

When I taught high school English, I used the song Every Breath You Take in my quest to advocate that The Great Gatsby is not a romantic story. I had the song playing as the kids entered the room. There was small talk and conversation regarding how everyone's mom liked this song, blah, blah, blah. Then we read together chapter four, when Jordan lays out the Gatsby/ Daisy backstory to Nick as they rode around Central Park in a horse-drawn carriage (or maybe a car-- I honestly can't remember). We end with the consensus that Jordan's request of a reintroduction to rekindle this relationship isn't the wisest idea. Then I bring up author's purpose: what is Fitzgerald telling us about Daisy and Gatsby based on this story? We chat about a variety of things involving possession, selfishness, women and marriage in the roaring twenties, social hierarchies, etc. Eventually, I return to the text and point out the song sung by little girls in the park:

I'm the Sheik of Araby, Your love belongs to me. At night when you're asleep, Into your tent I'll creep-

Coincidence? Probably not.

Then, as closure, we again listen to Every Breath You Take, but I post the lyrics. It's a song about stalker love. How that was romantic in 1983 is beyond me. In that way we're at least smarter, I guess, but I still hear people raving about loving or condemning Gatsby in this romantic way, as opposed to it's value as a social commentary and its use of surgically-placed detail.

But I digress . . .

# 440: Coal Miner's Daughter Loretta Lynn: Several years ago a guy told me he was all about red-dirt country and I had to Google the term. That tells you about my relationship with country music and its sub-genres right there.

Other than the Sissy Spacek movie that I've never seen, I knew nothing. So I made an honest attempt on open-mindedness and then ole Loretta starts singing It'll be Open Season for You.

Friends, if I learned anything from Friday nights with Keith Morrison and Dateline, it is that the it'll-be-open-season-for-you attitude, even when projected at a well-deserving dirtbag, will get you at least twenty years.

Alas, it is unfair for me to judge this from a twenty-first century lens, as when this came out before Dateline. Nevertheless, now you know.

# 130: 1999 Prince: Lemme explain how this works: I typed up numbers 1-248 (each page of the book), cut them up, and put them in one of my many cat coffee mugs. The procedure is I draw a number and choose the album from that two-page spread.

On New Year's Day I drew page 104. It seemed like bad luck not to choose this one.

Y'all, I'm here to tell you this is a complicated mix of a bunch of stuff. I knew that was the case with Prince, but I didn't realize to the extent. Bottom line: not kid-friendly. Tipper Gore would have slapped a label on this one and for good reason.

Also, I pull these albums off of YouTube. The comments are narratives of joy and gratitude and tragedy. Reading them is almost as great as the music.

# 234 Giant Steps. John Coltrane: It's jazz. It made closet organizing much more delightful!

FYI, I go back to work Monday. So there will be fewer of these in the future. But for now, consider listening to something just for kicks while you clean house. It's been fun.

Podcast:

From Apple News in Conversation: Your brain is hardwired to resist change, Here's how you retrain it. Big takeaway:

And with that, may your weekend be splendid!