(no subject)
My dad owns an instrumental cd called "Sunday Morning Coffee," which I had completely forgotten about for the past 12 years or less. He'd play it throughout the whole house while relaxing contently in his lay-z-boy, which is much older than I am, and almost by reflex the music would lure me to center stage, aka the middle room in the house which is quite empty apart from my parents' matching lay-z-boys, a sterio accompanied by two large speakers, and a small tv with the basic channels, where I'd dance and dance and dance. I only stopped for the brief intervals between tracks, where I would quickly run into the other room to catch my breath so my dad wouldn't be able to see my exaustion. Each genre of music had its own type of dance accompaniment, made especially by me. Slow songs, slowly walking around in circles with my arms outstretched, or lying down and making a pretend snow angel. A fiddler, punching the air and stomping my feet as fast as I can, or at least as close as I can get to the speed of the fiddlers.
My mom played the cd during our road trip. It was probably the funnest musical reminiscence I've had in a while, or ever.