Covering sounds

Brain still on standby, but after a bad phone to laptop sync, I ended up having to rebuild a few playlists and I got to listening to many tunes I hadn’t paid attention to in a while.

There are songs that are just so……great, and inspiring, and amazing, that other artists pick them up and sing them with their own voices. It is very difficult to find a song cover that really honors the original (I don’t think I’ll ever hear a good “Bohemian Rhapsody” cover). I bring you two examples that I like. In both cases, the original artists approved of the cover.


THE ORIGINAL: “The Sound of silence” by Simon & Garfunkel.

THE COVER: “The Sound of Silence” by Disturbed.



THE ORIGINAL: “Hurt”, composed by Trent Reznor (Nine Inch Nails).

THE COVER: “Hurt” by Johnny Cash.





Café Nox is on hiatus until my brain has returned.

It is currently being consumed by a toddler and a bun in the oven rapidly nearing doneness.

I’ll keep ya posted.

These pregnant days

I spent a lot of time barefoot growing up. Sure, I had shoes for school, church, flip flops, etc. But as soon as I got home, shoes were off, regardless of my being indoors or out in the backyard.
This is fairly common for a lot of people, specially if you live in a hot weather climate.

As an adult, my feelings towards shoes haven’t changed much. I still spend most of my day barefoot around the house. If I have to wear shoes, these are my current choices:

1. A pair of walking shoes for everyday. Since they’re basically the only shoes I wear year round, I usually buy nice, quality shoes with good foot support.

2. A pair of snow boots for bad weather.

3. Not really for going out, but a pair of old Crocs that I wear from time to time when I’m cleaning and don’t want to track dirt from room to room.

…..and that’s it. I have a couple pairs of flip flops vegetating in the closet that see the light of day every other leap year.  I don’t go fancy places that require fancy shoes, so my footwear shopping happens whenever my everyday shoes pretty much begin falling apart.

The thing about being pregnant, is that your body changes in more ways than one.


A friend of mine shared this article the other day: “10 Reasons Why Women Who Hate Being Pregnant Should Talk About It More”.

I have met women who have said that being pregnant was the only time in their lives when they felt truly happy. And I’m happy for them. I fully fall into the category described in the article linked above. I wholeheartedly agree that talking about what happens during pregnancy needs to happen more and more. I worked with young women at a rehab center who were pregnant and had no idea about what was happening to their bodies. To say that some of them were shocked is to put it lightly.

I’ve been pregnant 4 times, and so far the actual process hasn’t exactly been a happy one 100% of the time:

The first two ended in ER tears and tragedy.

The third, EB, was a stressful time. Between the memory of the two loses, the weight of gestational diabetes and the ups and downs of pregnancy itself, I was pretty high strung throughout the nine months. When EB ended up in the NICU on day two, I just about lost my mind (he recovered quickly, thank God, not sure about my mind).

The fourth is still in progress, and I’m so ready for June to get here.

I love my children. The ones in Heaven, the one currently snoring next to me and the one trying to test the physical limitations of my ribs.

I can deal with the cravings, having to pee every five seconds and I have no problem with saying no to alcohol. I can deal with the back pain and night sweats. Hair in strange places is sometimes amusing, and feeling those kicks can be pretty cute.

As your body changes during pregnancy, some things change that might not occur to you, like your feet. My very comfortable walking shoes now hurt me at every step. I’ve been wearing my old, work-around-the-house Crocs and even those are starting to bother. At least the weather is warming up and I don’t have to worry about walking through snow nearly barefoot. The pain got so bad, that I couldn’t move without limping heavily. The OB referred me to Orthopedics, who unfortunately can’t do anything about it, since I can’t have an x-ray until after delivery. With EB, it was carpal tunnel during pregnancy and for months after delivery. I still have some very attractive hardcore wrist braces from those days.

As a long-time migraine sufferer, I hate that I can’t take the meds I need to kill a headache. Specially when my son wants to play with me and I’m in too much pain to even open my eyes. I lucked out in the morning sickness department, as I pretty much had none. Migraines, on the other hand……ergh.

The first time you’re pregnant, although all the information on what to do is coded into your DNA, your body is in a bit of a shock. It’s the first time it’s had to grow a human. The second (and third, fourth, etc) time….your body knows what to expect. And it goes all out.

Which is why women who’re pregnant for a second time show a baby belly earlier. Things swell faster, get bigger, joints loosen up more than before. Actions such as coughing, sneezing and even eating become painful. I ate two slices of toast the other day and then spent the next four hours feeling like I’d eaten an entire Thanksgiving turkey with all the popular sides.

And oh, my goodness, do I ever miss breathing. It’s funny how you take something so basic for granted until it’s gone.

As the weather has warmed up, I’ve been wanting to take EB out to the park so he can run amuck, but between the aching feet, the exploding head and the inability to fill my lungs with oxygen, it’s near impossible to keep up with him. And this kiddo is fast @_@

Nope. I do not enjoy being pregnant. There’s no adorable mother-to-be glow about my person.

What is parenting like? These guys have great answers (beware, some might have language not suitable for kiddos): Fowl Language, Story of this life, Perfection Pending.

Soon, there will be two kiddos running amuck through the house, who will do their absolute best effort in driving me even more insane than I could ever fathom.

Is this whole thing worth it?  Yep. It most certainly is.


……I can’t help it. Watching people arrange their bookshelves by cover color makes me cringe. Sure, it looks pretty, but the Dewey decimal rolls through my mind and all I want to do is catalog O_o


As I’ve grown older, I have slowly realized how much of my childhood was defined by music. 

From my Dad’s records, his whistling, my Mom playing the piano or singing, we three kids taking piano lessons, then my brother and his guitar. Radio, records, tapes, adding all the choir music throughout our years in catholic school. 

There are many songs I associate with events, places and people. 

If I had to narrow my parents’ themes, it would be Chopin for my Mom and Vivaldi for my Dad. 

This waltz in particular always makes me think of home. 

Salve Regina

My uncle was a monk in southern Mexico, and every few summers we’d take road trips through the area and visit him.

You know how teachers will sometimes ask kids at the beginning of the school year what they did during the summer?
“I went to a monastery” sounds awfully odd amongst tales of beach days and amusement parks, haha.

But even though it was an odd trip from the point of view of a kid, I really came to enjoy them. There were many songs sang throughout the day’s prayer times, but it was Completas (last one of the day) that have stuck with me the most. After most songs and prayers were done in the chapel, all lights would be shut off with the exception of the one aimed to the image of the Virgin Mary. A note was played for tone, and the monks would sing Salve Regina. After the last chord rose and disipated, silence was the rule. The monks would walk off to their chambers and they were not allowed to speak until morning prayers.

There is something beautiful about the chant’s words surrounding you, echo in the chapel and wash over you in the darkness.

When I was a teen, I seioursly considered becoming a nun, and although it was not my true calling, to this day Gregorian chant is something I turn back to when I need to find peace.

I don’t have a recording of the Mexican monks’ singing. But this one resembles it the most:


It’s been one of those days.

Really, one of those weeks and months.

One of my great-grandmothers raised 8 boys and 1 girl. The other 11, more evenly distributed in gender. I’m chasing after one toddler while I bake a bun in the oven and I have no clue how these ladies did it.

Here, have a song. One of my favorites. I’ll be posting some favorite music videos on Wednesdays 🙂