Love Songs -- and Life -- on a Loop

This post isn't so much a book review as it is an off-the-rails-rant/reflection/rambling of a section of a book.  The book is The Honey-Don't List, by Christina Lauren, and it's an enemies-to-lovers tale about two twentysomething assistants on a home renovation reality show.

Now that that's out of the way, here's the quote in question:

"Our eyes catch for a few loaded seconds.  I'm thinking about how the first few times I hear a new song -- even one from a band I love -- I don't like it.  I resist the idea that something new could ever be as good as something old, but then slowly the new song works its way into my brain and I forget what it ever felt like to dislike it.  Right now I'm looking at Carey's face, thinking it's like a song I've heard a few times now, and every time I hear it again I like it more." (Lauren 93)

We've all been there.  Maybe not the falling-in-love-with-an-enemy thing, but the not-liking-something-until-it's-firmly-wedged-its-way-into-our-daily-lives thing.  What is it about a hook, musical or otherwise, that brainwashes us into hearting things that once made us want to hurl?  This is something I've wondered since childhood, when I first succumbed to liking the latest Hall & Oates single.  What can I say?  It was the '80s, and my mom was a fan.

Anyway, the familiarity-breeds-content theory is alive and well in The Honey-Don't List.  At least for Jim and Carey (and yes, there's a Jim Carrey joke in the book).  The bond that burgeons between our hapless-in-Hollywood (okay, Jackson, Wyoming) heroes rings true because it's spurred by the soul-crushing egos of the show's married yet miserable stars.  A pressure cooker of a workplace like that is enough to make any two unattached people, however seemingly ill suited, turn to each other for moral support -- and more.  That said, The Honey-Don't List is a fun ride (most of it takes place on a tour bus), perfect in these weeks before Valentine's Day -- or for cleansing your palate after a wrenching read.

Because even with books, the heart wants what the heart wants . . . after being exposed to it a gazillion times.

Sleigh, Winter

Nice Cream Cupcake Necklace 

Sweater: Cara Santana for Apt. 9, Kohl's

Skirt: H&M

Shoes: 2 Lips Too

Bag: Xhilaration, Target

Belt: Belt is Cool, Amazon

Silver and pink sequin bangles: Target

Blue cut-out bangle: B Fabulous

Pink wavy bangle: Mixit, J. C. Penney's

Blue beaded bracelet: Cloud Nine

 Blue Bell Spell Necklace

Tee: Macy's

Turtleneck: Wild Fable, Target

Skirt: Dollhouse, Macy's

Shoes: First Love by Penny Loves Kenny, J. C. Penney's

Bag: Betsey Johnson, Amazon

Belt: Marshalls

Socks: Gifted

Indigo Glow Necklace

Top: Merona, Target

Skirt: So, Kohl's

Shoes: Michael Antonio, JCPenney

Bag: Circus by Sam Edelman, Kohl's

Belt: Belt is Cool, Amazon

Grape purse charm: Charming Charlie

Celestial purse charms: Macy's

Not too long ago, I started my car to go to work and heard that sad non-sound that can mean only one thing -- my battery was dead.  Luckily, the husband was still home and went to Advance Auto Parts to get me a new one.  Now, I was grateful.  Obvi.  But when I started my car again, I was dismayed to find that I had no clock or radio.  So, I set off for the first of many journeys in what I called "the quiet car where time stands still."  I told myself that the lack of tunes and timekeeping didn't matter, that I was just stoked to have working wheels.  It made me think back to when I was a kid and my sister and I were on one of our many errand odysseys with our mother.  It had been a long day of slogging through Jamesway (remember that?) and Acme and who knows where else, and we got into an argument because she wanted to listen to music, and I wanted to listen to nothing, or, as I so eloquently put it, "the road."  My mom got so frustrated that she, in a cliche of cliches, stopped the car.  The only explanation I have for my lame stance was that I needed a break from the incessant bleating of Hall and Oats.  Although I've since cringed at my diva behavior, when trapped in my quiet, compromised car, I tried to channel my old childhood logic and tell myself that silence was golden.  That it was just me and my thoughts and the open road, like in "Night Rider" minus KITT.  What more could a modern woman -- and driver -- want?

Um, Andy Williams.  Because it isn't Christmas until Andy comes out.  That said, I was over the moon when the husband was able to rectify the situation just in time for me to sing along with Andy all the way to Cape May for the holiday house tour.  Because there's nothing quite like Christmas carols.  

Until you play them one time too many.

So, here's a seasonal but non-holiday song perfect for today, the winter solstice.  Yes, it's that earworm "Dear Winter."  AJR's latest is seemingly everywhere, so much so that people (okay, DJs) are predicting that it will inspire many a new mom to name her baby boy or girl for this brutal, teeth-chattering time of year.  It's basically a letter from a guy to his unborn (i.e. imaginary) son.  This is the last verse:

"Dear Winter, I'm looking for your mom

I gotta find a girl that doesn't mind that I'm inside my head a lot

Winter, it won't be too long

First, I just gotta find your mom."

I can't decide if this is the poetic musing of a misunderstood, sensitive guy who just wants a kid already, or the narcissistic rant of a misogynist hell-bent on making some chick his baby mama.  Either way, though, I still like it.  For one thing, it beats listening to tires against gravel.  (Or tires against a raccoon.)  For another, it makes for a clean segue to this week's necklaces.  Because they're weird.  Just like Winter and his daddy.  If I were listing them, I'd say that they were a "true blue treat," the "ice-ing on the cupcake," and, of course, that corny catchall, "a whirlwind of winter whimsy."  But I'm not, so I won't.  I'll just wear them in good health and strangeness as I tool around in my car, singing badly along to Andy and AJR and lots of other stuff except for Phil Collins.

I hate Phil Collins.  

Maybe he was what was playing that day instead of those scapegoats Hall and Oats.      

New Etsy Buys and a Little Surprise

When it was time to scope out Valentine's Day gifts for my family, I returned to Etsy's Ivy Lane Designs, where I'd found the wonderful Andy Williams notebook for my sister the Christmas before last. This time I discovered a notebook featuring another campy crooner, this time for my mom.

When I was a kid, my mom played her Michael Bolton tapes in the car so often that "Soul Provider," "How Can We Be Lovers (If We Can't Be Friends)?," "Said I Loved You But I Lied," and "How Am I Supposed to Live Without You?" became the soundtrack of my childhood. (Well, that and Hall and Oates.) She looked a little shocked when she saw Michael's face peering at her from beneath the wrapping paper. (As would anyone.) But I think she was amused.

Here are some of the other goodies I picked up:

I didn't find Uncle Oinker's Gummy Bacon candy on Etsy. A friend of my mom's stumbled upon it at Jack's Country Store and thought it might be a fun gag gift for the bf, because he's such a fan of bacon. I liked the idea so much that I ran with the theme, throwing in the Oscar Mayer notebook pictured above and a card featuring a heart made of -- what else -- bacon. He seemed to get a kick out of it.