I've always been a music fan. I've always wandered through life with one song or another stuck in my head. Certain songs remind me of specific moments in the time capsule of my life. Tom Petty's Full Moon Fever album reminds me of cruising down I 78 in Pennsylvania, going to hike on Hawk Mountain, sunroof open, singing at the top of my lungs. John Hiatt reminds me of my failed romance with Dan, Dan, The Dancing G Man. The Grateful Dead's "Box Of Rain" reminds me of walking through the parking lot, pre-concert, and being a little (or more) stoned and hearing, among the vendors extolling their wares, "Hair beading!", "Tie dyes!", "Bongs!", "Veggie Burritos!", some guy yelling, "PB&J!", which cracked me up then and still does.
Martin and I danced to The Beatles, "When I'm Sixty-Four" for our wedding dance. I made him waltz. My husband, The Brit, not known for his dance moves, waltzed with me. I still make him waltz with me when we play that song. He still can't dance. And I still have to convince him that he doesn't need to wear dark socks with his sandals, but that's a whole other blog post.
These days, though, I am more likely to have the theme song from Sponge Bob, iCarly, or Drake and Josh stuck in my head. The sad part is, I know all the words. The theme song from Drake and Josh is actually kind of catchy.
If I decide to put it on my Mp3 player, please, just shoot me, now.