I never realized Christina Aguilar can actually sing. She's really good, as long as you don't mind the Whitney/Mariah school of warbling. Girlfriend cannot sing a straight note, I swear. She has to ellide, and swoop, and embellish until you lose track of the music. It's all about the vocalist, which tends to bore me. Therefore, I didn't buy her CD tonight at Tower Records. I thought about it, though.
Instead, my guilty pleasure purchase was a young Swedish group called A-Teens who cover ABBA songs. They're good! I can't help it! I love ABBA tributes! I'm going to bring some real ABBA CDs with me on the plane. I'd like to take more new stuff, but I didn't see a whole lot I wanted. Dido's hit is wonderful; alas, I can't take a whole album of bitter young love problems even with that sensual voice. The Foo Fighters always grab me with one great song per CD, but I can not make myself spend $18 on something that I might not love. If only Bjork would release something new.
I spent an hour looking through the selections at Tower, and another hour fruitlessly searching for CDs and books at Borders, and yet a third hour wandering aimlessly through the clothing at Nordstrom's. I enjoyed myself despite the low buy ratio. Time to myself is so precious. I have always found shopping to be relaxing. Scoff if you will. It's a gift to be able to amuse oneself thus.
The book order from Amazon arrived today. Everyone at work peered over my shoulder as I unpacked it. I got Kage Baker's third novel, Ortho's guide to roses, a book on women in ancient Egypt, Stephen Fry's oddly titled autobiography, Moab is my Washpot, the first garden essay collection by Eric Grissell (I have the second which is a riot), and Suetonius' Twelve Caesars.
"You're not going to take all of those on the plane, are you?" Marley said with awe. "They're so heavy!"
"Yep, I am, and yep, they are," I replied firmly.
I have a horror of not having enough to read on long plane trips. I've paid way too much money in foreign countries for English language books because I didn't have anything left to read in the evenings or on the train. I'd rather pack extra books than take a chance of being bored or squandering my margarita money on dubious paperbacks. I prefer not to bring hardcovers, because they really do get heavy, but unless I find some great paperbacks this coming weekend I'm going to lug along the Baker and Fry because I know they'll be entertaining.
On the other hand, I'm taking two pairs of pants, two dresses, four shirts, two pairs of shoes, a sweater, and a coat for the sum total of my clothing. I make my compromises, you make yours.
The offer's still open: if you want a postcard from Japan, send me your address. I've got 20 takers so far!
The Index
Next Incarnation