Hello DTube!
No bellydancing today! 😊 Today, I would like to share with you an original song written by my super-talented husband, 
When booking the last leg of our trip, we were planning to stay at one of the cabins in Blue Ridge, Georgia – just like we always do. But low and behold – apparently, all Thanksgiving holiday makers had the same idea, and everything was booked up. So, we turned to AirBnB and stumbled on the most eclectic and cool-looking loft apartment at a farm hidden in the mountains of Ocoee, Tennessee. You could tell that whoever who designed it put a lot of soul into it and was definitely into music. Into good music. In pictures, the loft was drenched in sunlight, and the kitchen cabinets were hand-painted with pastel flowers and quotes from John Lennon songs.
“I like this one. I feel like there’s something there for us. Let’s book it,” declared
And so we did.
On Thanksgiving Day, we drove from Nashville to Ocoee, all the way gawking at the untouched beauty of the Appalachian Mountains. When we arrived at the farm, the owners warmly greeted us at the door, showed us up to the loft and invited us (all five of us, since we traveled with our kids) to eat Thanksgiving dinner with them. We were beyond grateful – especially yours truly – since I didn’t have any dinner plans for my family (I suck at all matters related to homemaking).
Fast-forward a few hours, and we are all sitting by the cozy fireplace in the living room of our hosts, making small talk with multiple guests who were also invited to the feast. A bit awkward and very exciting.
Suddenly, I noticed that
“What’s wrong?” I took a quick and paranoid glimpse over my shoulder, half-expecting to see something really scary.
“It’s the original 1972 gold record of David Bowie’s Diamond Dogs,” he uttered and started at me incredulously.
“Are you shitting me?!” I whispered.
It appears that we were staying at a farm of once-famous, now retired music promoter whose name I will keep secret here for the sake of anonymity. We spent all night long chatting about his fascinating life and experiences. Next day, he showed us his collection of gold records that occupied pretty much an entire wall upstairs. We also chatted for a long time with his wife – an amazing performer and song writer. She performed one of her songs for us, a capella, while having a cigarette outside clad in her white morning robe, the invigoratingly fresh mountains glistening in sunshine behind her – and this short performance was by far more impressive than any overproduced pop crap we have unfortunately gotten used to so much lately. She also told us how she missed her song-writing partner who had recently passed away.
And then, inspired by all this,
P.S. The story didn’t end here. Right as we were about to leave to go back to Georgia, the host came out of the house holding David Bowie’s golden record in his hands. He gave it to
So, I guess
@originalwork