Little Songs

I am a little song maker-upper and without a doubt a little song singer. I remember little songs composed as far back as high school. My deepest, most influential loves have been little song singers too, as love is the true medium of the little song; it generally requiring a light, open, fool-happy heart and an appreciative audience to fall to the ground in hysterics. I do make up little songs out-of-love, or outside the direct presence of love, but generally those songs are to and about myself; darker and less shareable. Rev. Dr. Splashy Pants and I have been singing some of the same little songs for years. Other little songs invented, altered or customized, will forever bring on a fond reminiscence of a once or always beloved. Little songs are always from the best of times, even amidst the worst of times, even the bad relationships can breed little songs full of joy. If I can't remember why I ever put up with that jerk; if I *can* remember them singing a little song, my heart immediately tenderizes with a blushing "awww", and *then* I can remember why I put up with that jerk.

So most likely my wifey in potentia will be a little song creatrix and warbler when found firm in the flesh. A little song about a phone, or a friend, or our favorite shared beverage. A little song about yoga, a little song about peeing. A little song about a trip, or a street, or the time one of us (probably me) was late. A little song to greet the moon, or wake you up, or mock your boss. A little song to bring unstoppable tears of laughter to Rev. Dr. Splashy-Pant's eyes, and encourage him to encourage me to dance the naked hoochie-coo. (And tell you the story about how unhelpful I was at helping him attain employment when we first moved here.) A little song about our bed, our cat (can we have a cat!?) and the kitchen while we cook. I look so forward to finding our little songs together, to teaching you the songs from my past, to telling you all the stories that dangle from the little songs' noses, to kissing you after you humor my storytelling, to one day introducing you to people you already know through their songs and stories.

A little song for you, dear one, made up on the spot:

Wifey Wifey, put down that knifey,
its time for love!
Oh that's what you meant!
I see you're bent!
and that must be
why_I _call_ you_
Wifey! Wifey!
You make my lifey
so very happy
when I feel crappy
you dance and kiss me and say you missed me!
Wifey Wifey, whee whee whee!

Where *ARE* All the CAT HATS!?!?!?!?

RIGHT!?!?!?

The Lobster Phone

Could You Love This Cell Phone?


To love me is to love the Lobster Phone, formerly known as the Dancing Phone (we made up a little song about it to go with it's lively ringtone.) Yes, not even ten years ago I almost didn't date one of my loves because they had a cellphone, and now I have two phones; but the Lobster Phone is currently the showiest, and the Ho Phone recently betrayed me by erasing all of my old saved sentimental text messages when I took the old one in for an upgrade. I hated and refused to engage in texts until this summer. Things and ideas and boundaries and values change, yes they do.

Extra points if you know the piece to which the Lobster Phone is a reference/ homage. This point of this post is just to showcase the beautiful photo Josh took of Rev. Dr. Splashy-Pants's anarchist restaurant art with my addition of the Lobster Phone.