And I go on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on, and on

Remember this post about my sewing room? And how I'm a beautiful princess? Oh, but that's not the point right now.

Anyway, remember all those boxes of record albums that constantly inhibit my ability to creatively whip up my baggage masterpieces?
The ones Mark refuses to move out of here even though he never accesses them (not that he could if he wanted to, considering all my stuff blocking them)?

Well, he had a carpenter come out and give us an estimate, and we're going to get shelves built for his albums. So, yes, they'll still be here, but it will look SO MUCH BETTER!

And the beautiful princess's husband, who is just a duke and not a prince, can listen to his beloved albums.

By the way, one thing I hate is when I hear an old song I like and I say, "do you have this song?" -- meaning, "on one of your 2,000 CDs" -- and he says, "yes. on a record." And I keep saying that I don't care if it's on a record, just say "no" if you don't have it on CD. Am I going to play the record in my car? Am I going to hold a tape player up to the record player and record it in all of its crackling glory? Am I then going to take my old Walkman in the car with me and listen to my tape? Hello! I've moved on to mp3 players! I now snicker at people who have portable CD players on their desk or at the gym because that's so 1998. I know, I know. I'm the one who until I got my mp3 player still used a tape Walkman at the gym. But I kept it hidden in a small bag with only the earphones coming out. But I digress.

Oh, and I just thought of something else that ruined that whole rant. Mark just ordered from Skymall a record player that allows you to record straight to CD. I forgot about that. And then I could put that on my iPod. But it would still sound crappy, right? All analogy. I like my music digital. ((see, I tried to use "analog" descriptively, but then I noticed it just turned into the word "analogy," so let me do it this way "analog-y"))

You may think I ramble, but I call it typing after drinking margaritas. This segues into my next post...

It's the SEWING room

Once upon a time, Mark bought a house. In this house, he put all his thousands of record albums in boxes into one spare room. There the records sat for years and years, untouched. He hoped that one day this would be "the music room."

Then, along came a beautiful princess named Robyn. She moved in and neatly stacked the unused records against the wall and moved her computer in. That's right, Mark didn't even have a computer. Eventually, the beautiful princess took up sewing and moved a big table and other equipment into "the music room." Eventually, even Mark started referring to it as "the sewing room," with much disdain.

Between the computer and the sewing machine, this room quickly became the beautiful princess's favorite place. She stared at the boxes stacked along the wall with disgust. "How can I work like this?" she asked. "How can I organize my stuff?"

But Mark refused to budge on moving the records out, so this is the best princess could do, and she's very excited about how organized it all is, all things (dozens of despised boxes) considered!





By the way, Mark says my dress form has a really nice butt.