Serenade

I woke up this morning, like I wake up 96% of all mornings, with a song buzzing in my head.  In case you were wondering, it’s not the same song every morning.  Just a random, run-of-the-mill song.  Sometimes Once, it created a beautiful moment in which I serenaded my wife at 7:04 in the morning. Just once though. The rest of the time the “song of the day” ends up following me to work, or most recently at home, as I continue to master unemployment. BTW (which means "by the way" for you non-hip readers out there), big updates on the job front, if you have been tracking my recent stint as a stay-at-home-husband.  Look for a post about it on Saturday.

 

So, the song this morning was brought to you by Shania Twain.  It goes a little something like this: “Whose bed have your boots been under?”  For those of you who forgot all about this classic, that song was released back in 1995! I really had a hard time picking up those tongue-tying lyrics.  Lyrics like that make for those classic moments where it sounds like you are singing the right words, but really you have no idea what was just said.  Not this morning though. They came out loud and clear!  If you doubt me, feel free to ask June. I was tearing up that stage with my new spurs!

This is my life, our life, every morning.  I am not sure where these songs come from.  I am not a big fan of country music, and even if I were, that song hasn’t been on the radio since 2002 at best.  I am convinced that our brains are just that amazing.  All of life’s images and sounds are stuck up there somehow.  Whether we wanted them to stick or not.   They’re stuck.  Just waiting to be released.

You may agree with me on the brain being amazing part, but still wondering, "Why Shania?  I have my sister “Guy” (my nickname for both of my wonderful older sisters, more on them another day) to thank for that one. When the music was playing in our house or in the car, it meant that life was oookay!  Let the good times roll, right?  I think that is why I really appreciate all types of music.  Somehow how my brain interprets the sound of music as the signal that life must be oookay! Is anyone else like this?

As for June, well, I think she used to appreciate music. Wait a few more years though, and she may never want to hear another tune again.  Whether you are Michael W. Smith or Aerosmith, it will remind her of the sun rising. Let’s just say June isn’t a morning person.  The best part that I haven’t even shared is that I end up trying to make every song into a love song, serenading my wife with my beautiful pipes. It is very difficult at times, but I'm up to the challenge :)

I love you June…“Come what may!”