Like you even care.

It has been brought to my attention that I am not fulfilling the standard requirements for a personal blog. Specifically:

1. I do not post enough photos of funny things I saw on the web.
2. I use too many footnotes.*
3. I do not have enough posts with lists of things and poignant explanations of why that thing is important to me.

Sigh. Okay, I guess I’ll do a number three.

So, without further ado, here is a list of songs and/or albums, along with a note explaining which startlingly visceral memory each one evokes. Let’s get this over with, folks.

Rubber Soul, any song: reminds me of driving through the Adirondacks with Dan (my then not quite boyfriend) to Troy, NY to watch our friend Jonathan get married.

Simple Pleasures (Bobby McFerrin): Reminds me of driving between Tupper Lake and Lake Placid with the inimitable Sara Chan (Shultz) Parent, because it was one of only two tapes in her dad’s van.

Mr. Bojangles: Reminds me of the outside of the Middletown Hospital, where I was visiting my grandmother with pneumonia.

Mack the Knife (the Bobby Darin version): transports me to 4^th grade, the kitchen in our house, playing cards with my mom and dad and spinning 45’s (yes, you heard me, 45’s)

Georgia on my mind (Ray Charles): see above.

Teaser and the Firecat (Cat Stevens), any song: High school summer afternoon, laying in bed reading, with nothing to do except nap and listen to the birds outside. Could do with one of those right now.

The Juliet Letters (Elvis Costello), any track: Dan’s breathtakingly filthy first apartment.

Surfer Girl, Little Deuce Coupe, In My Room (Beach Boys, duh): Standing in my bedroom in 3^rd grade, playing “air keyboards” on my bed along to the songs, by myself. Yes, let’s not point out how pathetic that is. I know, folks. I know.

A Go Go (John Scofield) and The In Sound from Way Out (Beastie Boys): Strawberry Fields Music and Coffeehouse, Potsdam, NY, where I spent one year as a cashier. This one also is accompanied by the smell of hazelnut coffee and a faint jittery feeling.

Alright! Done! Get on with your day now!

* Hey, if it’s good enough for David Foster Wallace and Dave Eggers, two authors I never plan to read, then it’s good enough for me.