What’s playing in my ear buds?
07/03/2010
Remember Footloose, where the reverend banned rock ‘n’ roll and hell-raising Ren McCormack (Kevin Bacon) got the party re-stared and brought the town back to life?
Not that Mayor Oscar B. Goodman (the self-proclaimed “happiest mayor in the universe”) would dare impose such a ban on fabulous Las Vegas, but here’s fair warning. Mayor Goodman, I will be your Ren.
More simply put, I can’t imagine life without music. For running, for driving, for dining, for cleaning, for relaxing, for cuddling, for reading, for doing nothing at all – there’s just no better accompaniment.
The comments you all shared following my post “What’s playing in your ear buds?” suggest you also like to shake your groove thang. With your help and the magic of iTunes, I now have, quite possibly, the best playlist for running ever created.
- Karma Chameleon (Boy George and Culture Club)
- Takin’ it to the Streets (The Doobie Brothers)
- Escape – The Pina Colada Song (Rupert Holmes)
- Do You Really Want to Hurt Me (Boy George and Culture Club)
- Girls Just Want to Have Fun (Cyndi Lauper)
- Eye of the Tiger (Survivor)
- Listen to the Music (The Doobie Brothers)
- Smooth (Santana)
- Hotel California – Live (Eagles)
- Jump (Van Halen)
- I’ll Tumble 4 Ya (Boy George and Culture Club)
- Rock ‘n Roll All Nite (KISS)
- You Shook Me (TNT)
- Good Times (Chic)
- We’re an American Band (Grand Funk Railroad)
It’s okay if you’re laughing that I chose The Pina Colada Song. And yes, I know there are three Boy George songs in this lineup. I don’t care what anyone thinks about my musical choices, and neither should you. Admittedly, I can’t name more than 10 songs recorded in the past 15 years. Lady Gaga? You mean my baby niece who says “ga ga?”
Here’s the morale of the story. Whether choosing music, clothes, a house or a spouse, go ahead and seek input from those you trust. Then listen to your gut and do what feels – or sounds – great to you. It’s guaranteed to be music to your ears. (Sorry, had to go for the easy pun!)
Thanks for all the great suggestions! Never would have come up with this playlist on my own.
Don’t you hate it when one morning, by golly, every pair of socks suddenly has holes?
Do they get together by the darkness of night and plot their revolt?
I guess when you buy a pack of cheap cotton socks and wear and wash in rotation, they’re bound to meet their fate on or around the same day. Think anyone has studied the life expectancy of athletic socks? Mine reach full maturity at six months, go on life support at nine and get re-purposed into dust rags at 10 months. It’s a vicious cycle. A cruel sock world.
Well ENOUGH I say! NO more!
In my quest to be more minimalist, I’m trying to only buy when there’s a need to replace. I don’t go sock shopping for pleasure, I go when I have more dust rags than socks. I’m avoiding replacing cheap with cheap. Instead, I’m replacing cheap with the best quality I can afford. Sticking with the sock example, my hope is that I can a.) eliminate the annoying need for an annual sock shopping spree b.) give my tootsies a more pleasant sock-wearing experience c.) possibly be buried in these bad boys.
This is why I spent $40 on four pairs of athletic socks.
That’s right. Pick your jaw up off that keyboard. Stop cursing at your monitor. Focus people, focus!
My new low tolerance for low-quality cotton socks that invite blisters, stay wet once wet and shrinky dink in the wash led me to Red Rock Running Company.
The selection was marvelous. I didn’t know such fine socks existed. Before I committed to purchasing Feetures! Performance Socks (extra small, wicking fabric, seamless toes, high-density cushioning in impact areas, mesh tops for breathability), they LET ME TRY THEM ON. Ever try on socks at Target? Without getting run down by the rent-a-cop?
I can’t remember the last time I was so happy with a purchase. These socks are all that and then some. My feet have never been so comfy in my sneakers. After several washes, these babies appear to be indestructible. They don’t stretch out. They don’t shrink. They don’t bunch up. They don’t get permanently stinky. They are perfection in a sock.
Now that is $40 well spent.
Do you ever take this approach with purchases? It’s the transaction that seems absurd for a minute, but then makes perfect sense when you consider cost per wear. Tell me about it. I live for this nerdy stuff.
What’s playing in your earbuds?
06/19/2010
I have a $15 iTunes card burning a hole in my pocket. This is no ordinary iTunes card. My 15-month old niece gave it to me for my birthday in April (pretty hip for someone who refers to all non-human mammals as “kitty!”). You should also know I refuse to pay for music downloads a.) because I’ve digitized loads of my own tunes b.) because it makes downloading “gifted” music more special than if I just bought every little song that made me tap my toes, and of course c.) because it’s a waste of money.
With that as background, you can imagine my horror when I selected a trusty nickel to rub off the activation code…and two of the oh-so-important activating numbers disappeared with that gray dust. Nooooooo! I spent 20 minutes typing in a variety of alphanumeric combos. No dice. Where’s Rain Man when I need him?
Luckily, a friendly “Apple Advisor” named Melynda came to my rescue and promptly supplied the missing characters after I gave the serial number and a desperate plea for help. (She even closed her e-mail with “Cheers!” and let me know her work hours so I could contact her if necessary. Nice touch.)
So here I sit. A $15 iTunes card ready to be redeemed. A world of musical options. A problem making decisions. (It was hard enough when I had to choose between milk or juice as a toddler. If you’ve been reading this blog, you know too many options stress me out.)
What do you recommend? What songs make you want to run faster, pump the elliptical harder, lift more, sing out loud, smile wide and generally feel great about life? I’m open to all eras and genres. Disco, Motown, Heavy Metal, Hip Hop, 80s Fab, Classic Rock, New Age. Bring. It. On!
The comments section is now open for your suggestions. Make it good. Don’t know when the niece is gonna come through with another gift card 
We all strike out sometimes
06/17/2010
I never expected it. This blog has become a forum for sharing my deepest, darkest secrets.
I bared my armpits to you when I sang the praises of baking soda as deodorant. I admitted that I donated 795 items in one fell swoop during my Purgeapalooza. You know I waste water, hoard bananas and have a thing for cluster balloonists. It’s out there that I treasure a good granola recipe more than dust-collecting wedding day memorabilia.
We’ve discussed truck nuts.
We’ve come a long way in four months.
That’s why it’s time for you to know.
I can’t part with my bowling shoes.
My sweet, thoughtful husband gave them to me several birthdays ago so I wouldn’t have to wear the cootie-infested shoes issued by the bowling alley. They are bright white. They are cushiony. They are nerdy.
We’ve never been in a bowling league, gone with another couple or even mastered the rules. We don’t fit the “bowler” demographic. There was a time; however, when we found it novel and entertaining to head to the lanes at The Orleans, Santa Fe Station, or Red Rock Station (yep, they’re in casinos, cool, eh?) for a few laughs and some romantic rivalry. He with his Scooby Doo ball, I with my sparkly white Brunswicks. Always before dawn, when the rates were dirt cheap – after the smoke cleared from the prior night’s cosmic bowl and before the hard-core PBA tour hopefuls arrived with their suitcases full of custom bowling balls.
That was then. This is now. We’ve transitioned from bowling to gardening, cooking, being an (awesome!) aunt and uncle, playing tennis, competing in everything from 5Ks to swim meets, and a whole mess of other fun stuff.
We have no plans to go bowling. I’ve reduced my wardrobe by more than half, shoe collection too. I’d go so far as to say I now operate with a close-to-minimalist wardrobe. I had no problem parting with Coach handbags, cool jewelry and rock star jeans in the name of paring down. But those darn bowling shoes.
If I were suggesting how YOU might ditch your bowling shoes, here’s what I’d write:
- If you’re keeping them for sentimental reasons, take a photo and then donate them.
- If you’re keeping them because you might bowl someday, you will be able to buy new bowling shoes when and if that day ever comes.
- If you haven’t used them in a year, buh-bye bowling shoes.
Hmm…I think I’ll just see if hubby wants to go bowling this weekend so I can justify keeping them.
Tell me about your “bowling shoes.” It’s okay if it’s irrational. The more unjustified, the better. Let’s roll! See ya in the comments.
In a rut? Get grilled squid.
06/15/2010
We keep it pretty basic food wise here at Casa de Less is Fabulous. The standard offerings include fruit and cereal for breakfast; fish, veggies and nuts or what not for lunch; portabella mushroom sandwiches, grilled chicken and baked potatoes, spinach salad with tortellini, whole wheat pasta with sautéed veggies, homemade pizza, or eggs with a side of fend for yourself for dinner. Throw in some strawberry ice cream, cereal bars and crackers here and there. Rinse. Repeat. That’s our no muss, no fuss simple approach to dining. (Note: We pull out all the stops for occasions. I’m talking complex, 25-ingredient Williams Sonoma recipes. Call me a hypocrite. There are certain days of the year when MORE is fabulous!)
If variety is the spice of life, where do we get ours? Our variety – and spice – come from those who have it mastered. We’re talking the Indian family who owns Indian Curry Bowl (too busy grinding spices to make their own Web site), the masters of all things Mexican at Cafe Rio, the purveyors of Persian food at Paymon’s Mediterranean Cafe and Gino and Nora Mauro’s old-style Italian awesomeness, served with a side of garlic bread, at Nora’s Cuisine.
But what’s a couple to do when curry, guacamole, tahini sauce and pesto get, well, vanilla?
Head to Chinatown Las Vegas.
Think I’m joking? Go west on Spring Mountain Road from the Strip and you’ll discover an impressive concentration of Asian businesses in the country’s first master-planned Chinatown. Whether you have a hankering for Chinese, Filipino, Korean, Japanese, or Vietnamese cuisine – or massages – you’ll find it here. Yes it lacks the authenticity of San Francisco’s Chinatown. But hey, it’s Vegas baby! Close your eyes while you’re biting into that dim sum and you’ll swear you’re in the Orient.
Having sampled just about everything a Chinese food menu has to offer over the years, we decided to go Japanese, and not faux Japanese either. We’re talking show me the squid cartilage, beef tongue and chicken gizzards. Add those menu items to the all-Japanese customer base at Ichiza Sake House and we’ve got ourselves a winner. This ain’t no T.G.I.Fridays boys and girls.
We went moderately adventurous, including mackerel in miso sauce, chicken (not gizzard) skewers, vegetable croquettes, and a whole grilled squid (not breaded calamari with a side of Ragu). The squid was steaming, snow white, sans sauce and full of just-off-the-grill marks. We washed it all down with a giant shared Sapporo beer (think “40″) and got our post-dinner sweet fix from the Korean-owned Crown Bakery next door.
It was delicious. It was exotic. It was cheap.
Since moving from Pennsylvania to Las Vegas in 2001, I’ve realized that less dining hesitation is indeed fabulous. This from a girl whose culinary horizons stretched to chicken fingers, combo subs, PB&J (grape jelly only please) and medium hamburgers (NOT cheeseburgers) before moving West. That said, the mere thought of mayonnaise still makes me want to barf, I will never (EVER) eat tuna fish out of a can, and I’d starve in the desert before dipping a pretzel in French Onion dip.
What’s the take away? Life is meant to be lived. We only go around once, so do your sampling now. Get your chopsticks on, dear readers! Last I heard they’re not serving grilled squid in the after life.
