Body, Mind, Spirit
Funny I should choose the color red during a week where I was almost brazen about taking pictures. The red ball of whatever in the planter, the red swing next to the picture window with the curtains pulled back, the front door with floor-to-ceiling sidelights, the side garden, and the two buckets someone was using to wash their white Toyota Camry were all pictures that required some nerve to take–at least for an introvert who prefers solitary walks.
My walk on Sunday derailed almost immediately when a young female stranger and I had to wrangle a lost dog into a corner so we could lure him back to his house. His name was Sparkles, which if you ask Mikey is as good a reason as any to run away from home. I called Sparkles’s home since his tags didn’t have an address, and I had the supreme pleasure of speaking to the teenaged boy of the house. Such a charming lad! Full of enthusiasm and zest for life! Quick witted, too.
“Hi, we have Sparkles.”
“Okay.”
“Your dog. We have your dog, Sparkles?”
“Okay, yeah. Yeah!”
“Right. We can walk your dog Sparkles to you if you just let us know where you are.”
“Oh! Yeah, right. Okay. Um, so where am I…”
“Just an address and we’re good. Like, the numbers and the street. That’s all we need…”
“Okay, yeah. Um, 5280 Springfield. Do you know where that is?”
I told him I did, but even if I didn’t I would have driven to a gas station and bought a map before I accepted any sort of guidance from that hormone riddled amoeba. There are glaciers in Antarctica moving faster than that boy’s neurotransmitters. Within 10 seconds I decided, using all my cynical wisdom, that he was one or all of the following: (1) watching TV, (2) stoned, (3) a teenager, or (4) embarrassed his mom named a male dog Sparkles.
My young female stranger co-dog wrangler offered to take Sparkles back to his castle, and I happily allowed her to head off into the sunset with him tucked under her arm like a football. I had more pressing matters to attend to. A picture of my feet standing next to something red wasn’t going to just magically appear on instagram.
Song of the Week
Pandora snuck in a Doo-Wop song one day last week, and I had so much fun I searched around until I found a 50s station I liked. I’ve been listening to 50s Rock n’ Roll ever since. There was a period from junior high until my junior year in high school that I listened to 50s music more than a child of the 70s/80s should. Southern California people, I listened to K-Earth 101.1 all the time. Twenty years later and I still remember almost every word to every song. I don’t know why this music makes me happy, but it does.
It wasn’t until I found this video on Youtube that I realized Little Bitty Pretty One by Thurston Harris (a cover–Bobby Day recorded the original) was in the movies Christine and Matilda. I haven’t seen either one, so the all-out war in the comment section over which movie should be associated with the song came as a surprise. People eventually resorted to insults. Insults! All over a song from 1957 with, quite frankly, some sketchy lyrics. My favorite comment, which I now can’t find, went something along the lines of: Everyone just shut up and enjoy the music.
Little Bitty Pretty One— Thurston Harris
I HATE talking to my teenage boys on the telephone because they sound EXACTLY like him. Mine have their face stuck in the computer.
I came home and told the boys that when they are teenagers they are not allowed to act like such lumps on the phone, but I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that they will be exactly like that kid.
Whenever I wasn’t with friends in junior high/high school, I was listening to “Oldies 95: The hits of the 40’s, 50’s and 60’s!” or classical music/talk shows on NPR (but never news, lol). I was an odd duck for sure. But I was a HAPPY odd duck! There’s a reason that stuff is still played in roller rinks and community events. I’m super bummed about our local radio station dropping the “Oldies” from Oldies 95. They won’t play anything older than 60’s anymore, and even older than 70’s is pretty rare. We already have an excellent “Classic Rock” station. Give us the Oldies back!
Same here. K-Earth is still around, but they play 70s, 80s, 90s. There is something called K-Earth Classics HD that plays 50s-60s music, but I think that’s only available online. Sadness.
OMG, and my brain completely derailed when I got to the music part at the end. Laughed at my desk about Sparkles. Teenagers (not just boys but they are DEFINITELY worse) are so difficult to talk to on the phone! Thankfully, the opportunity doesn’t present itself often, lol
I sang “Little Bitty Pretty One” to my Lily when she was a baby. Obviously don’t know all the words, as the “sketchy lyrics” part is news. That red front door slays me…so bold! Did you have a story prepared if someone threw open the door?
I never gave the lyrics much thought until the Youtube comments. They were all “Pedos gonna pedo!” and I was like, waahhh? So the song is a guy singing to a “little bitty pretty one” who he notices has grown up and he asks her to talk to him/sit on his knee. At one point he says “I’ve been watching you grow.”
So.
Slightly sketchy! But, in my optimistic heart, I don’t picture the creepy old man down the street. I see it more like two kids who grew up together and the boy is suddenly no longer clueless or imagine it’s the older neighborhood boy/brother of a girl’s friend. You know how in the movies the girl always has a crush on the older brother of her friend, and he never notices her until That One Magical Summer When She Turns 16? Kinda like that. Please, God, let it be like that.
As a self-proclaimed lover and expert of all music in the 1950s and 60s, may I make a Pandora suggestion?
Ronettes Radio.
Enjoy.
Even my teenagers are laughing!
While your sons may be like that kid someday, they will at least have the stones to stand up to anyone who would dare name their dog Sparkles. At least that’s something. :-)
I have a bucket just like those. For whatever reason that pleases me, as though I am somehow famous because buckets EXACTLY LIKE MINE were featured here. Clearly it’s been one of those weeks wherein the most lowball, meaningless detail seems like a reasonable treasure.
I also want to know about the owner of the red door, and what you might have done if they’d opened it while you were standing there.
I have absolutely nothing of interest to contribute to this conversation.