Maggie Rogers and the power of joy


Of course we were. How could we not? It was Friday, for starters, but as bonus, we were going to see Maggie Rogers in Boston that night.

But we adopted the mantra of impending “FUN!” to get past worrying about getting through the workday and the thought of our 50-something selves standing for a couple hours in a hot club with the better part of 3,000 people who could be our children.

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Like it or not, time goes on

I’m not one of them.

It’s obvious even if you ignore that Suzi’s and my attire to see Maren Morris in concert is not country-girl cosplay and dudebro, respectively.

Even under normal circumstances, looking at them and looking at me would make it obvious that I’m older.

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Yes, I had fun: July 10

I was having a great time.

No, really, I was.

I know it probably didn’t look that way, not when you were dancing and singing to Maren Morris up on stage and taking selfies with each other while I mostly stood there, tapping my feet in time to the music.

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Getting acquainted: April 3

Listening to a new album is like meeting a new person.

The first impression could be good or bad, but you don’t really know either the person or the music, whether it’s a “nice to meet you” and quick conversation or listening from your desk while it plays over the speaker in the next room.

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Using its powers for good … for a change

I have had no small amount of fun with the various recommendations you get online thanks to a combination of algorithms, artificial “intelligence,” viewing habits and who knows what else.

There was the suggestion I apply for a job for which I had already been rejected, which at least beats the job for which literally my only qualification was that I had a master’s degree.

I got a “personalized concert lineup” mostly of shows I wouldn’t attend if you paid me, and I’m pretty sure iTunes was trying to send me a message one day, if I could only figure out what it was.

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The time has come to pay tribute again

We all have our different ways and timelines for deciding life is back to “normal.”

Maybe it’s your own vaccination status, or a combination of being vaccinated and living in a place with high vaccination rates.

Or maybe it’s about the experiences — going to a soccer game where the discomfort was more about being soaked by the rain and not being in a crowd of 21,000 other people, or running your first race in 580 days.

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Just when you think you’ve heard all the Christmas music

The yelp caused me to bolt off the couch and hurry to the kitchen.

Suzi was making a buche de Noel, the last of her weekly pre-Christmas treats. Even though I had warned her not to expect it to be as effortless or perfect as Mary Berry’s Yule log, the fact of the matter is I’m married to a perfectionist, so I wondered what kind of disaster I was walking into.

It wound up having nothing to do with the baking.

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Flashback to high school

It had been a good workout.

I felt energetic, strong, and even though Suzi is the best company, it was also good to be around other people during the class, if only through the iPad resting at the perfect height in the sock drawer of our bedroom.

And then Jamie, our instructor, started the music on her end-of-class stretching playlist.

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Getting lost in the albums

We’ve done Christmas music. We’ve done travel. We’ve done our “wild younger days,” and now I’ve joined up with my pal Renata from Buffalo Sauce Everywhere to write about our favorite albums. Be sure to read her post here.

I’m not “Paul McCartney was in a band before Wings?” young, but the band people my parents’ age knew as Jefferson Airplane or Jefferson Starship was just called Starship by the time I first heard of them.

And that’s due to one album … “Knee Deep in the Hoopla.”

Specifically, the song “We Built This City.”

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