Wednesday, December 14, 2011
a little wrap music
Amid the toxic waste land known as craft night, we kept racing each other to the iPod player every time a song finished to employ the next craft night tune. We have different styles, different, um, tastes. Are they just generational, I ask myself? Are they gender-specific? If I were male and an adolescent, might I, too, be drawn the melody and lyrics of, say, Move Bitch?
I think not.No, I much prefer a little Ingrid Michaelson. Some Florence and the Machine, perhaps.
Call me crazy, maybe a little old fashioned, I just don't like to be yelled at and insulted when I listen to music. This, I pointed out to my son, might make me a grouchy old mom, but so be it.
Oddly though, as the evening of sticking reindeer heads to paper wore on, I found myself embodying the road rage and bass of Move Bitch. There's quite a bit of rhythm in it. After an hour in Christmas shopping traffic earlier (I was on carpool duty, taking the kids to their sports psychology class), I can't claim the words "move, bitch, get out the way" never materialized in my brain -- though I can honestly say they never sprang from my lips.
Ah, but now, as it approaches midnight, all is well. Carson scrubbed the glue from the floor, and I finally figured out how to get the Avery template to work with Microsoft, thus eliminating my scrawl from ruining my fancy Christmas card envelopes. And, I'm pretty sure I didn't swear ONE TIME during the entire craft night. Which is a record. (Well, if you don't count me singing along to Carson's rap music).