Sing It Low and Smooth

A random title, a need to post something to get the blog rolling, and a complete lack of oomph in working on any of my 9 drafted posts brings to you the following:

I have successfully created the world's best smoothie... and I don't know exactly what I put in it. I suspect the ingredients went something like this:

Blender.
Dark, dark cherries, pitted by hand, leaving cherry-blood stains on the counter. (3/4 cup)
Apricots, recently pitted, sliced, frozen because no one ate them in time. (3/4 cup)
Two fragments of melon ice, hunks of cantelope that turned glacée after a thawing and refreezing. (~2 slices)
Orange juice concentrate, spoonful of, another frozen fragment.
The last of the yogurt, perhaps (1/2 cup) the thickest trimmings of cream.
Milk, to fill the blender to the blade; to ensure a smooth result.
Finally, a dash of orange liqueur, a half shot of dark rum, to round the taste and emphasize the tang of the apricots.
Blend.


I didn't sing for a long time, the last few years. Now I'm bringing back fragments (word of the day) of songs half forgotten and wishing I hadn't taken singing for granted when I had a chance to perform. If I wasn't so self-conscious I would like to sing classic jazz tunes again, like Bye Bye Black Bird and That Old Black Magic. I wonder if people don't take music for granted these days, since everyone has an personal music player of some sort.

The reason these things are connected is because I'm vaguely synesthetic. Which is not, apparently, a word. It's to do with seeing colours for tastes, feeling music for colours, and a sort of triangle created between the three. So, this tangy and sweet smoothie, quite pink from the cherries, feels like orange and aquamarine on my tongue, and sounds like xylophone (perhaps Street Song, Key people?) in my head. Bright and sharp with a bubbly underside.

Anyone still with me on this?