Again, if you are singing your way through life, you can skip this post. Today’s advice for singers and others: Try Trader Joe’s Dark Chocolate Covered Ginger. You might melt a small handful of these tasty pellets in your microwave, using this as a base for today’s hot chocolate.
There’s probably some foodie way you could pulverize the ginger, but my friends and followers know I am all about making life easy. I will never make Mary Berry’s Coffee and Walnut Battenburg or even a chocolate roulade. While I definitely favor cooked over instant pudding, if it takes more than twenty minutes to pop the thing in the oven, I am probably done.
In my version of hot chocolate, you eat the ginger pebbles with a spoon at the end.
Back to singing: Sing! Join Bruno Mars or Adele as you drive down the road. Make a joyful noise to and for yourself in the shower. Don’t necessarily erupt into song in the middle of the mall for no reason — oddly enough, spontaneous singing does raise eyebrows — but pull your music like a cloak around you.
Music makes life happier. Singing drives the blues away. Singing brings us into the present, even as it captures and creates memories. Simply, singing is fun, and more fun is good.
For any former students who might be reading this post: All that music in the classroom? It was for me as much as for you. I still enjoy most of the songs I downloaded for us. I confess, Skrillex will forever remain a mystery to me. Reading lyrics was fun, too, even as I kept crossing songs off the possibly appropriate list. Reading lyrics remains fun. For example, here’s part of a recent favorite:
“Ophelia” by the Lumineers:
Ah, ah when I was younger, I, I should have known better
And I can’t feel no remorse, and you don’t feel nothing back
I, I got a new girlfriend, she feels like he’s on top
And I don’t feel no remorse, and you can’t see past my blinders
Oh, Ophelia, you’ve been on my mind girl since the flood
Oh, Ophelia, heaven help a fool who falls in love
I, I got a little paycheck, you got big plans and you gotta move
And I don’t feel nothing at all
And you can’t feel nothing small
Honey I love you, that’s all she wrote
(What the heck does all this mean, Ms. Turner asks, even as she sings along in the car.)
