The 1940s nightclub music is following me throughout the day these days. While they originally had been relegated to my mornings, I find myself humming more of the music in the shower, and reaching for some Louis Armstrong or Ella Fitzgerald or Jo Stafford on my drives. And when I work from home, I repeat breakfast with a little Que Sera Sera as I cook lunch.
Toes tapping, I settle back in the sunroom with a fresh cup of tea while Benny Goodman leads his orchestra in a catchy tune to match my tomato salad with quinoa. “Candlelight and wine, and Castles on the Rhine…how lovely it was.” At least I imagine and vow to find out sometime…soon.
It just so happens that there seems something natural about the wine glass in hand while swaying hips to Jo Stafford For You while I stir the risotto. When Papa Loves Mambo plays, it also seems natural to kick off my shoes and kick my hips into a little Cuban action. Of course, dinner was almost ruined when Jump the Line carries me away.
But normally, I turn it off for something more sophisticated when my daughters and I sit down for dinner.
Tonight, however, the 1940s nightclub made it do my dinner table. Andrea Boccelli, Sarah Brightman, Henry Mancini, Ferrante and Teischer—no hard feelings. It’s just, the Music Goes Round and Round and is still going round and round in my head.
Our dinner tete-a-tete may still be about teen-age girl drama, but it’s much easier to listen to when there’s a trumpet and saxophone keeping time with a lilting brush on snare rhythm. It matches my Cabernet. Or maybe it matches my heartbeat better. Either way, I feel surprisingly whole. Then again, who wouldn’t be when hearing how Tony Bennett Thinking About Me. Or Fred Astaire reminding me I’m Easy to Dance With. Sigh! How lovely!
Even now, doing dishes, my hips keep time while I compare pronunciations of tomatoes and potatoes and pajamas with Louis Armstrong. It’s kind of hard to snap with soapy fingers, but that hasn’t stopped me yet—I’ve merely learned to love wearing an apron while elbow deep in a sudsy sink to protect my dresses or sweaters. I Sway me smooth until the dishes are clean and spin around looking for more dishes. I’m in the zone.
All I see, though, is my teapot sitting there steeping with a single tear falling while Dean Martin tells me how nice it would be Under the Bridges of Paris with me while I sigh into my wine glass.
Don’t worry my darling tea…you will always be my first love each morning. Always.
But right now I’m In the Mood for Love and wine. And In the Mood is playing, so I need some space to swing…and Sway….afterall, you must agree, I Don’t Get Around Much Anymore.
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