7 Angels on a Bicycle

There’s a Carrie Rodriguez song that I listen to almost every day when I’m at work, and it stirs up some almost indescribable sense of longing, identification, something I can’t quite put my finger on. It’s the combination of the music, the lyrics, the feel of the song. It sings to my ba. It makes me yearn for something I can’t name.  Another music find I owe to Chicory. I’m not quite sure whether to thank her for it.

The lyrics are deceptively simple:

Go get what you want my love
Go get what you need my love
I am with you
I am with you
Go get what you want my love
Go get what you need my love
I am with you
I am with you
This will not turn me away
This will not turn me away
I am with you
I am with you
Go get what you want my love
Go get what you need my love
I am with you

Brooklyn Bridge on a bicycle
Brooklyn Bridge on a bicycle
Don’t he look good
Don’t he look good
Following him right to town
Following him right to town
Don’t this feel good
Don’t he look good

Taken pictures on a subway
Enchilades on a Sunday
Lets get drunk
We’ll all play
Your fancy guitar
Now don’t this feel good
Don’t he look good

Seven angels on a bicycle
Seven angels on a bicycle
I am with you
I am with you
Seven angels on a bicycle
Seven angels on a bicycle
I am with you
I am with you

Go get what you want my love
Go get what you need my love
I am with you
I am with you

Go get what you want my love
Go get what you need my love

I am with you

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Grow Up? Me? Nah!

My sister, the incomparable Izzybella, and I really like each other. We share everything–clothes, books, movies, even bad habits. I’m tellin’ ya.

And there’s one bad habit in particular that we’ve shared since we were kids. I’m not sure why it has lasted this long, but it has. And I see no signs that it’s going to stop, which means it’s likely to persist into old age, which is a truly frightening, yet at the same time amusing, thought.

When we’re eating together–and you already know where this is going, don’t you?–for some unknown reason one of us will get the brilliant idea to show the other the food in her mouth. We’ll usually try to be reasonably discreet, so as not to sick out anyone else who might happen to be at the table with us. The goal is to take the other person completely off-guard. To be perfectly honest, it frequently takes the person doing it off-guard as well. Like when we were at an internationally noted pancake place recently, eating grilled cheese sandwiches. Suddenly the thought popped into my mind. Hey, you know, wouldn’t it be cool to show the incomparable Izzybella your partially chewed grilled cheese sandwich? And before I knew it my mouth was opening of its own volition. She stared coolly at me and I knew I was in trouble.

See, we don’t usually get revenge at the same meal. Occasionally, but not usually. And the longer one of us waits for revenge, the worse it will be. The last time the incomparable Izzybella got me, ooooh—it was good. And by good, I mean really nasty disgusting.

Anyway, that’s bad enough, right? That we actually do that. So now you see why I was so grossed out yet simultaneously amused at the thought of us as little old ladies doing that in the nursing home.

So here’s what’s worse.

This morning I was dreaming about chocolate chunk cookies. Hot, gooey, delicious chocolate chunk cookies, fresh out of the oven. And I had one in my mouth, and was just about to show it to the incomparable Izzybella, when—–yep, the alarm went off.  Frappin’ alarm. Couldn’t have waited 5 more seconds, could it?

I’m really pathetic.

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Friday Fill-in

If you play, please link back to me and leave me a comment letting me know you played, so I can come visit!

1. Once upon a time I evilly convinced my brother that Dr. Pepper was called thusly because it was meant to be consumed with lots of pepper in it. So we merrily shook the pepper into his drink and stirred it up. He didn’t notice that I wasn’t pouring pepper into my drink. He took one swallow, and immediately sprayed the room with peppery Dr. Pepper. I roared with laughter. For some reason, he didn’t think it was so funny.
2. Once upon another time my youngest sister absolutely refused to take baths. And our parents were out of town and I was staying with her and the incomparable Izzybella. I was determined that A was going to take a bath. So I cajoled. I bribed. I got the water ready. I got her into the bathroom. I finally told her that I was going to count to ten, and then if she hadn’t gotten into the tub by the time I got to ten, I was going to throw her into the tub with her clothes on. She didn’t believe me, because I was smiling and was most pleasant. So I started counting. She was laughing and giggling until I got to ten, at which point I picked her up and threw her into the tub.  The incomparable Izzybella was on the phone with a friend, and the friend wanted to know what was going on because he could hear A. screaming and bellowing with rage.
3. I really don’t have a lot to say about white tea and ginger.
4. “Way down south in the land of cotton, old times there are not forgotten, look away, look away, look away, Dixie Land.” I went to one high school whose football team was, most un-PC-like, called the Richland Rebels.
5. Keys are masculine; locks are feminine.
6. Have you seen lemon truffles from See’s Candies? They’re so full of lemony chocolatey truffley goodness!
7. And as for the weekend, tonight I’m looking forward to doing probably not much of anything, tomorrow my plans include eating breakfast with the parental units and the incomparable Izzybella, reading Clover’s book (if I don’t read it tonight), going to the Handley Street Festival, seeing Joe if he makes it home, and Sunday, I want to take it easy!

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