AfricanKelli

I grew up in a home that always, and I mean always, had music playing. My mother was well known among my childhood friends for two things: one was her love of sewing, long since documented here. The other was her love of the freakishly small musical genius known as Prince. Or formerly known and once again now known as Prince. My very conservative Christian mother didn’t bat an eye at singing “Sexy Mother Fucker!” at the top of her lungs while preparing a nutritious, well planned dinner.

Yes, it was a crazy house.

But it was fun. And noisy. And artistic.

It still is.

I’ve attended countless music concerts and have always been one to turn on the radio before the TV, but the concerts I’ve loved the most were those three purple infused mad, mad, mad Prince concerts I took my mom to. As much as I tried fighting off the shaking of my hips and dreaded singing along, I couldn’t fight the force of the Little Red Corvette. Let it be known, I too like the Prince. It is a sickness and I’ve accepted it.

By my love of indie music, off the beaten path music, music you don’t find on Saturday mornings via Casey Kasem, comes directly from my friend Mike.

No his wardrobe doesn’t usually speak, but this sums him up well. We met as junior high students attending church camp and didn’t pay a lick of attention to each other until we reconnected as adults. (Even if someone I know briefly dated him. How’s that for a stumble down memory lane!) He dated a former roommate of mine and we went on many a double date. It is funny looking back on it now because neither of us speaks to our former loves, but we have found a fantastic friendship within each other. He started sending me CDs from bands I’d never heard of like “Dashboard Confessional” and the “Get up Kids.” We attended several concerts where we were two of only a dozen in the “over 21″ section, right up against the stage singing along. Bouncing. Screaming angry lyrics back at the young man on the stage crying away. Laughing at the 18 year olds behind us swimming in a sea of adolescence and angst. Because you know. We were so cool.

I saw Mike last week for the first time in several years. He is now a big computer dude on the East Coast living in a big house with a sweet wife and wicked commute. He of course showed up at my door with more new music from a band I cannot remember. They were good, as usual. I’d bet I’ll have one of their CDs in my mailbox soon.

In the meantime, I’ve found two of my own musical treasures in the last week.

KT Tunsdall rocks. She is Scottish, hot, and ohsotalented. The woman plays all her own instruments and loops them back. (Ala Prince. See, it’s full circle. Hang in with me.) It is incredible to listen to her go. Listen to “Black Horse and the Cherry Tree” and see what I’m talking about. WOW.

And the Gabe Dixon Band. You may have heard them on the previews for that new NBC show “Conviction.” Love that song. So much that I now own a handful of their songs via itunes. (Who knew a computer program could cause financial instability?)

She wore a raspberry beret,

~K

My first day with no television was easy enough. I met my friend John after work for dinner downtown. He has one of those swanky Frank Lloyd Wright-inspired apartments that make you turn in circles to take in all the subtle details. I tease him that Architecture Digest is going to show up any minute demanding a cover shoot. He is my Will, and I am his Grace, so to speak.

Because John lives downtown and has a social circle completely enclosed from my own, he always knows of amazing little restaurants I’ve never even heard of. Last night was
Richardson’s. Tucked in a tiny shopping plaza, you enter the small restaurant to find shiny, smooth wood booths, dark wood shutters on the windows, casting a thoughtful cool shade, and the scent of a pecan woodstove floating above. (The place is a tree’s worst nightmare.) Richardson’s specializes in New Mexican cuisine, which is typically not one of my favorites. If I’m going southwest, I usually prefer Mexican hot, not New Mexican tang. Regardless, I inhaled a green chili burger with poblano mashed potatoes. Delish!

Dinner was capped off with a trip to our favorite dessert locale — The Gelato Spot. We try different flavors each time we go. (Okay, we’ve only been twice, but we decided last night this is the new tradition.) I had a scoop of Grand Marnier and a scoop of Peanut Butter Cup. It was melt-in-your-mouth heavenly, with an extra surprise. I’m convinced the Grand Marnier actually had booze in it because I’ve never before had that type of buzz after eating.

By the time I made it home, it was 7 pm. (Yes, I get off of work early.) I took a bath, enjoyed the latest issue of People (Jen, I’d be sad too. But you look great!) and knit until I got sleepy. I will admit there was some itch to turn on the television when I was trying to fall asleep, but I resisted.

So far, so good. (But still, no major progress on the book. Today is a new day.)

Cheers,

AK

I’ve decided to make a pretty drastic change as part of a social experiment: I’m unplugging my television for one month.

Yes, that’s right. I’m voluntarily giving up the boob tube for 30 days and you, Internet, are my witness.

The experiment is to see if this makes me any way more social. I’m hoping to get more reading, crafting and cooking accomplished. I’m also looking forward to dusting off some older CDs and giving my stereo a spin. But if I sit down and watch another episode of Friends, repeating line after line like a drone, I may just have to poke my eyes out.

I may just be so crazy as to finish this book I’ve been working on for, say, two mother f-ing years. (That’s right. I said mother f-ing. My grandmother is now reading this sucker.) Other goals include finishing the African Knit thank you’s, learning how to bake bread from scratch (and then meeting my new neighbors) and pulling up my ever-so-dead-because-it-is-August-in-Phoenix garden. 

If you think I’m an incessant blogger now, just wait my friends. Just wait. I’m sure posts with photos and lame attempts at humor will accompany all of these tasks.

~AK