Pavlov's Munkay

Music evokes memories. Certain songs enable you to time travel. Seventies grove are my childhood. Eighties techo-punk send me right back to the big hair, tight jean days. I officially became a real adult listening to the nineties tunes. Lyric's can make you feel different seasons. When do you hear the Eagles "Girls of Summer" played on the radio? Yeah- same with any beach theamed melody. Songs also relate to feelings. The music you danced to at your wedding, or when you met your sweetie probly isn't them same stuff you listen too as you work out. Any song from George Michaels "Faith" CD instantly incites passion in me. Similar to Pavlov's dog who would automatically drool at the sound of a bell, body fluids rush to a different orifice for me.
Now is the time for you to start playing the song "Father Figure" in your head as you continue to read this. During this CD's prime, I am but a young kid having just met my hubby. For me, the words to "Father Figure", are how I feel about my future husband. Michaels erotic voice singing this song is forplay to my ears. The hours spent naked while listening to this album are uncountable. I'm sure my first born was conceived while Michael croned. Put in the "Faith" CD and clothes were instantly shed. We laughed, we danced, we loved with Michael.
Time moved on and the "Faith" CD was moved to the back of the pile. Eventually Michael was moved to the closet. No pun intended. Then my house burns to the ground and with it goes my mammoth stereo along with Michael. He is not replaced.
I was watching a talk show the other day and there is George Michael talking about his comeback. Damn that's right, I remember him now. Has it been that long that he is making a come back. Hubby calls from across the country as I am watching and we both wonder at our memory time lapsed. Time goes on without our realizing it eh?
Hubby flies home for his weekend visit and we are spending our quality time together, enjoying each others company and catching up on our time spent apart. We are in the in the kitchen, and he is watching me cook one of our favorite seafood meals. While I srub the shellfish, hubby goes over to the little stereo on the counter and I see him fiddling. Hubster is not in the least bit music savvy. He does not remember lyrics or band names. He now spends his time listening to talk radio or sports. Expecting the mundane I am surprised and delighted to hear."...Let me be your father figure, put your tiny hand in mine, I will be the one who loves you, till the end of time.." Yup, my juices flowed like water everywhere. That fishy smell, from this, lingered in our house the entire weekend, if you know what I mean. "Excuse me, but your fish smells like..."