|401-Clark: our retirement plan, baseball-style*|
I’m no Parrothead, but I do like myself some good Jimmy Buffet tunes when the mood strikes. Don’t get me wrong, I’d love to fly on a whim to Margaritaville or Saint Somewhere and sip boat drinks, but that’s not really the way my life is shaping up. No complaints, though. Maybe retirement will involve soaking in rays, running into chums with bottles of rum, and being the only bait in town. It’s hard to say. As long as Clark keeps practicing that left-handed fastball and dirty curveball, his pro baseball career could fund an island retirement for us. Maybe we can lie on some Little League forms soon and get that action rolling.
|seriously swingin' in Dimmy Muffet shirts*|
Anyway. I had a Buffet hankering a few weeks ago and so I turned on a greatest hits CD and mentioned his name to the boys. ONE TIME. The following week I had something else in the CD player, (I know, CD player, how archaic. I don’t even know how to use an iPod.) I don’t remember who, and Calvin yelled, “Dimmy Muffet!” which cracked me up, so I promptly turned on Dimmy Muffet. The boys wanted to rock, one in the recliner and one on the rocking horse, side by side as Dimmy sang. They then started saying, “See Dimmy Muffet? See Dimmy Muffet!” so we watched some YouTube clips of Jimmy singing. They loved it and now they request his music on a regular basis.
As soon as they start requesting cold draft beers, brand new tattoos, and pencil-thin mustaches, I may have to be more selective in which songs they listen to. But for now it’s pretty fun. I wish the Barenaked Ladies had a different name or maybe I’d introduce them to that band too. Sigh. Bring on the wholesome Dan Zanes and Veggie Tales, I guess.
*Thanks to Uncle Ken for the 401-Clark nickname and to Aunt Kelly for the tire swing picture