Musicians have all the cream. They really do. Musicians own the whole talent thing, lock, stock, and barrel.

I can name a song for every traumatic aspect of my journey in life.

Can I name a book instead? Maybe if I stretch things. OK – Pride and Prejudice for first romance. When? Where? No clue. Talk to me about first times and music and I can ramble for hours.

It’s all about firsts and must haves.

Not making sense? Walk the path with me for a sec.

The first song I ever slow danced to—Samba Pa Ti. Sigh. Are there more beautiful guitar notes than the first few of Samba Pa Ti? Strange thing is, I don’t remember the guy at all, just the moment underneath the stars moving in perfect harmony. My memory is peculiar and fickle. I recall he smelled of beer and Brute, that he was way too skinny for a plump girl like me, and that he had devastating brown eyes. His name? Go figure.

Songs I cannot sit down to—honestly my rear and my legs have a mind of their own when Play That Funky Music or December 1963(Oh, What a Night) starts—anywhere, anytime, anyplace.

Songs that make the waterworks in seconds flat, My Way sung by Sinatra. Has to be Sinatra. It’s Too Late by Carol King, The Wind Beneath My Wings by Bette Midler…that list is never ending.

Ok and to segue on that, what about Never Ending Story? Or Take On Me? My toes start tapping the second I hum that cute little lick of music in the middle of Take On Me.

To me that signifies happy feet and snoopy dancing. Can anything get better than that?

Ok—so what’re your songs?

First Slow Dance

Can’t Sit Down

Waterworks

Happy Feet

Oh—got to drop one more in there—Michael Bublé singing Save The Last Dance for me.

Such a happy way to start Monday.

Cheers,