This has been a day of mad blogs! I think Portland inspired me to write again, which is will cherish and appreciate.

We finally got the record player hooked up...after 2 months of talking about it. I forgot how much I love vinyl. It reminds me of my dad...the good parts of my dad. I'm listening to Hall and Oats right now-the record is crackly a little, just like it did when I was a kid, sitting on my daddy's lap, watching him close his eyes and bob his head to the beat. His beard, practically black, which he donned for as long as I can remember, was always the perfect edition to his green eyes and long eyelashes. I can see now why my mother fell so madly in love with him. Sometimes I forget they're no together anymore...but that's for another day.

I inherited quite a collection from him if I don't say so myself. Original edition Beatles albums, the entire works of the Moody Blues, Paul Simon, Neil Young (own it people, he's brilliant), Simon and Garfunkel, The Allman Brothers, Pink Floyd, The Doors, The Stones, Zepplin, Elton John, Johnny Cash, Bob Dylan, America, The Who, Frank Zappa, John Lennon, Paul McCartney (the orgininators of side projects and solo careers), Bruce Springstein...ok so my dad had a thing for aging guitar players...but seriously, they're so classic they'll never go out of style.

Sitting here on my bedroom floor, surrounded by the last 20 years of his record collection, I'm missing him more than ever.