I'm Thinking of Gratitude This Morning

Howdy Bloggy Friends,

I'm sitting at my new monitor with my overly-generous green drink. (Got a little carried away this morning with the green leafy stuff). I am extremely grateful for my life. I have everything I want or need. That means, my wants are fairly simple. I surround myself with furniture and objects that add only to my comfort. I've never been one for style, design or "what's in."

I turned my garage into a studio with a floating maple dance floor that I designed myself. This was not a "want," but a need. I have always needed to dance. I tell my students to put the music inside of them and the result will come out in the form of dance. It's absolutely amazing what music will do in your life. I am so grateful for good knees, a strong body and hips that still move in any direction!!!!!! Dancing may not be your passion but be grateful for whatever it is. Grab hold of your passion and embrace it. In the end, it's what really matters.

My daughter found the following video on YT. This woman is 107 and still follows her passion.

P.S. During the day hours, when many people are online, this has some pauses. When I watched the video in the evening, it was perfect and it really is worth watching. :)

Is Your Life A Song?

Is your life a song? Is it a scintillating, soul grabbing, emotion retching, gut crying story? Would I dance it, wallow in it, and slurp it up like a smoothie? I just realized my own life is pathetic. How do I know? Here's what happened Saturday morning.

My Granddaughter and I were having our usual little week end chat on the phone with me learning more than I need to know about the loves and flirtations of the young single life.

Especially when she started out with, "Do you know where I spent last night?"

Big alert for the Nana. "No and I don't think I want to."

"It was with Sam."

Sam was the guy the whole family approved of. (Do you think that could trigger a rebellious break-up?) We covered the details but it wasn't at all the shocking scandal you might expect.

We finished our conversation, hung up and I started my morning green drink. I gulped down the drink (shouldn't do that, bad for digestion) and quickly washed the parts of the juicer. I had just finished cleaning the kitchen when my Granddaughter's phone-ring sounded again. I picked up the phone, thinking she had forgotten to tell me more of the Sam story.

She was breathless. "I just wrote a song about you."

"Aaaaaah." I didn't know what to say. It had been fifteen minutes (at the very most) since we talked and no song. Fifteen minutes later, how could she have a song? But, I swear she did. She put the speaker phone down and sang (with guitar) three verses, plus chorus, a song about her Grandmaw. Holy Moly, I was shocked. Songs come to her as a vision, in a flash. The song had a foot-stomp'n, old-tymey waltzey melody with words that would tweak your heart strings into a quivering mass of emotional tears.

OMG..... that's me. That's my pathetic life. I'm a loser. I blew it. I wasted what little talent I had. The chorus was a real dancey beat, repeating"Twirl on, twirl on." The verses told of my Grandpaw who played the fiddle as I danced and my yearning to be a dancer, go to NY and be a star but instead, the babies came and by this time, I'm sobbing for the girl in the song and what a dumb jerk she was.

But I liked it. I more than liked it. It had that hit tune quality that stuck in my head long after we got off the phone. She said her song inspiration had been looking at the old fiddle of my Grandfather's that I had recently passed onto her. I told her I remembered going out in the barn with him and grabbing some hair from the horses tail for his fiddle bow. Oh, that was in the song too. My life in three verses!

But would I change it? Nawww. Not a teeny bit of it, pathetic as it sounds in song. I still danced, though never a star. The picture above was Flamenco in my early 20's. I'm in the middle.

Imagine your life in song. It's actually fun.

Zip-pate Do Dah. I Sat In On A Recording

I'll let you in on a big change. They don't "sing into the can" anymore like George Cloony did in "Oh Brother, Where Art Thou." My Granddaughter, Ashly, is making her 2nd CD and I sat in on a little of it. The recording companies want the performer to be relaxed so they make the recording room personal by bringing in some of their items from home. Here is Ashly with her lamps and pictures and a big "I'm Gonna Ace This One" smile.

Ashly writes all the songs for her band, "Little Jane and the Pistol Whips." She lives and breaths Loretta Lynn, not that her voice is especially like hers, but she idolizes Loretta for her songs, lifestyle and the person that she is.

I had never set foot in a recording studio before. In the old movies (not the "can" one), the performers were always behind a big window and people could sit outside and watch. No. Not today. The performers are in this closed recording room, where all the personal stuff is set up with their instruments and techie stuff and you can watch what's happening on a big screen. (Of course, dummy Manzanita. Techie Time again.)

Below is Ashly with Doc, the head honcho recording guy, who has been awarded the coveted award of Grammy for outstanding achievement in his field. Doc is a charismatic artist who runs a relaxed but totally efficient ship. I sat behind him during a recording and watched him manipulate the big scary board with all the knobs, buttons and lights.

Below is a short vid that I made of part of a song being recorded. Nothing is more annoying to me than uninvited music on a blog, so I always give you a button and a choice.

Besos you little country gal.