Tag Archives: songs

Funny Looking Snowmen

It rarely snows in Tucson, Arizona, but when it does, it’s a pretty big deal.

There was a dusting of snow to our north last night, and probably five inches of the stuff 25 miles up the road, in Oracle State Park, which is where I went today to take photos. The place was swarming with “snow peepers,” and some of them were building snowmen.

Here’s one of my snowmen photos. But this snowman isn’t really a man, is it? Because he (it?) has three ears (horns?) and wings (gigantic shoulder muscles?). Obviously, it was built by a bunch of men with issues. I won’t say what their issues are, but what’s that guy in the red jacket pointing at?

Snowman 1-2

I do think this snowman is kind of lovable. Just look at that expression.

Here’s another snowman. This one is more typical of the ones I saw in Oracle today:

Snowman 2

A 3-foot tall snow person with eyes made from a plant called “desert broom.”

Obviously, we southwest Arizona residents aren’t too good at building snowmen. But then, can you blame us? It only snows one day a year here! We need more practice.

On my way out of the park, I spotted this 2-foot tall model pointing the way:

Snowman 3

Actually, I think its arm fell off.

I think this minimalist sculpture was the best little snowman of all.

If you like snowmen, you’ll probably enjoy listening to my song about them, called “Gonna Build a Snowman.” It’s guaranteed to get you in touch with your inner child, and you can listen now, for free, here:

http://www.pacificbuffalo.com/music

Just click the link, then click “Gonna Build a Snowman.”

Happy Snow Year!

 

Four Reasons to Buy Songs for the Seasons

Three months ago, just after a month-long blogging challenge called NanoPoblano, I took a break from blogging to write some songs. Children’s songs, specifically. The holidays were fast approaching and I have 2 two-year-old grandsons. My big present to each of them was the gift of music.

Henry likes weed whackers and leaf blowers, while Porter is a little obsessed with Curious George and trains. I decided to start with a song about weed whackers.

After finishing the Weed Whacker Wiggle, I tackled leaf blowers, and came up with Blow the Leaves. Those two garden tools (one used in summer, the other in fall) inspired me to write Mud Makes a Mess and Gonna Build a Snowman for the other two seasons.

With the help of my husband and musical partner, we recorded the songs, had them professionally mastered, created an album called Songs for the Seasons, and uploaded them to CDBaby, where you can download all four songs for $4, or individual songs for 99 cents each.

Here are four reasons that I think it’s worth your while to buy this music:

  1. Spring
  2. Summer
  3. Fall
  4. Winter

Other reasons you might want to download the songs:

  • Mud Makes a Mess mentions a worm (bound to make kids squirm).
  • Weed Whacker Wiggle brings out the giggles.
  • Blow the Leaves will interest anyone who either likes or hates leaf blowers.
  • Gonna Build a Snowman has a moral to the story and includes some awesome harmonies.
  • We’d really appreciate some reviews!

Here’s the link where you can listen to clips and decide if you want to buy the downloads:

http://store.cdbaby.com/cd/pacificbuffalo4

What’s your favorite season?

Life Imitates Art Garfunkel

It’s Tuesday, 11:30 p.m., Day 28 of the November Nano Poblano blog challenge, and I have to get to sleep soon.

I’m flying out in the morning, early. My alarm is set for Wednesday morning, 3:00 a.m.

I’m reminded of two songs:

“But the dawn is breaking, it’s early morn, the taxi’s waiting, he’s blowing his horn” — John Denver, Leaving On A Jet Plane

“The morning is just a few hours away” — Simon and Garfunkel, Wednesday Morning, 3 A.M.

Aristotle thought that art imitates life, and Oscar Wilde once said that life imitates art … but it seems that my life imitates Art Garfunkel.

Gee, I hope so. I’d love to sing like that some day.

In Carnegie Hall.

While standing next to Paul Simon.

But I’d stay friends with him until we were old.

Old friends.

Now, if I were flying to Denver, that would be like life imitating Art Garfunkel imitating John Denver. I’d like to see that.

Country Roads, bring me home across the 59th Street Bridge Over Troubled Water, to Scarborough Fair.

American Dreamer

Early this morning — around 3 a.m. in fact — I started my new job as a tax preparer. I went out into the busy waiting room and asked, “Who’s next?” A tall man in the front row eagerly raised his hand. It was Ronald Reagan.

I tried not to let my disappointment show on my face while racking my brain for a way out. I could pretend I hadn’t seen him. I could announce that we were closing for lunch. Or I could just quit. But in the end, I knew that I had no choice. I gave him a nod and we walked back to the cubicles.

I asked him if he’d like a more private office, and I was overcome with pangs of guilt for doing so. Why was I giving him royal treatment? I should just treat him like everyone else, I told myself. But it was too late. My co-workers had gotten wind of our special client, and they were hustling to vacate the director’s office so that we could use it. We entered the cushy room with its mahogany desk and velvet chairs, and sat down across from each other.

Suddenly, Reagan pulled out a ragged old newspaper with a shocking headline and risqué photograph of a woman. He thought it was hilarious. I told him that he was being inappropriate. Then I mustered up the courage to say that I really didn’t think I should be doing his taxes, because it was my first day on the job, and I’d never prepared anyone’s taxes before. “And besides,” I said, pausing for effect and looking him straight in the eye, “I’m not at all a Trump supporter!”

Reagan wasn’t fazed at all. He still wanted me to do his taxes, but first, we had to do his laundry. So down into the basement we went. I don’t even remember how we got there, but suddenly we were standing in front of an old washer and dryer in a dark, musty basement, filling up the tub with his dirty clothes. I turned on the machine and almost immediately flooded the basement. Realizing that we were standing in six inches of water, we abandoned our project and rushed toward the stairs. Once safe on the first floor, I pulled out my cell phone, called my mother, and asked her to help.

And then I woke up.

It’s only a dream, I thought with relief. And whatever you do, I told myself, do NOT close your eyes and go back to sleep!

Once fully awake, I tried to analyze the symbols in my dream. New Job. Taxes. Dirty Laundry. Flood. Ronald Reagan. What was my dream trying to tell me?

My first attempt at dream analysis resulted in the following possibilities:

  • New Job = I just started a new “career” (retirement).
  • Taxes = Identification with my father (who worked for the IRS).
  • Dirty Laundry = Scandals in the presidency.
  • Flood = Trickle-down economics.
  • Ronald Reagan = See Flood.

All of that made sense. But then it hit me. Last night, just before bed, I’d been practicing my guitar for the first time in a while. One of the songs I played was “American Dreamer,” something I wrote in 2009, right after the American housing bubble burst. (You can listen to it here.) The song tells the tale of someone who got in over his head because he believed what the banks and the real estate developers were telling him. He’d purchased a home with a balloon mortgage and then had lost his job and his home. People were blaming him for being greedy, but he says his mistake was following someone else’s dream.

So on a deeper level, my dream might symbolize what happens when you’ve gone along with the crowd and then are faced with a dilemma. Do you continue to follow the rules, despite your beliefs, or do you stand up to authority? Because if you don’t, you may find yourself in hot water. With Ronald Reagan.

I once dreamed that Bill Clinton kissed me on the cheek. Luckily, I did not have sexual relations with that man. I haven’t had any Obama dreams yet, although that would be nice. I wouldn’t even try to wake up!