The Frosting Entices: Part 1

Maybe because I picked up a birthday cake today . . .

Sheesh, not even one sentence in and I’m already getting ahead of myself. Sometimes I think I have thought-process dyslexia, my brain throws out ideas in a jumbled word-cacophony and then I have to reorganize them so they actually make sense.

Take two.

I am the designated cake-buyer of the household. Call me the Cake Whisperer. I walk into a bakery and, while pensively stroking my chin and squinting with an intellectualist’s scrutiny — hey, it’s my story, I can pretend cake picking involves phenomenal cognitive functions, if I want — I take in every single detail of what’s on display. Next, I start pacing back and forth in front of the glass, watching and listening until one of the cakes makes itself known: “Pick me.” I don’t ask about the type of frosting, the flavor, the kind of cake, or anything else — not even the price — it’s just a vibe thing.

The whole ride home I’m wondering what that first bite will be like. I don’t want to know what’s inside, I want to discover it! That’s why I don’t ask anything at the store. There’s a sense of adventure here! Capeesh?

A little later, I’m sitting in front of the computer getting ready to write and I notice a CD on my piano — yes, the cool artists still send physical press kits with real CDs (hint, hint)! The cover artwork is an extreme close-up of a woman with flawlessly smooth skin, luxuriously languid eyes, and striking pink lips. She looks pampered as there is just a hint of white fur beneath her chin and her nails — which match her lips — are impeccably manicured.

The CD has been on my piano about a week or so, but for some reason I haven’t put it in the queue stack for review. I figure it’s probably just that I haven’t gotten around to straightening up. Then I realize — maybe because I picked up a birthday cake today — I haven’t put it away due to the fact that it’s whispering: “Pick me.”

Don’t judge book by it’s cover, but pick a cake because the icing is drool-worthy. The frosting entices. My subconscious was aware of the care and attention to detail that went into this CD cover and it was trying to tell me, “Yo, if there’s that much passion in the artwork, the music must be exquisite! Don’t file it in the queue, give it a listen . . . now!”

Since it won’t be time to sing “Happy Birthday” and eat the cake for another several hours — much too long to wait to discover if it tastes as magical as it looks — I decide my adventure-cravings need to be satiated in some other manner. I sublimate cake eating into music listening.

In other words, I slip the disc into the computer.

I listen.

I pop the CD back out without writing a single word. I have a lot of driving to do today and Margo Rey deserves way more than one cursory listen. I am going to take her with me so I can give her a little extra attention.

To be continued . . .