Phillip Phillips and My Mother

As I was putting away my Christmas presents this morning and trying to organize the children’s bundle of gifts, I came across a gift that my mom gave me yesterday: the Phillip Phillips album on disc.

Yes, I’m still one of those people who prefers to receive a CD; I realize most people are of the iTunes generation, but I still like the physical disc of the record. There’s something about holding it and having it that makes me feel connected to the artist. I actually enjoy reading the liner notes.

To use the words a teenager might say, “My mom rocks.”

I put the disc in the player and have been listening to it this morning. My friend Jenny’s sister Sue had said she loved the album. Boy, was she right. Phillip Phillips has that je ne sais quoi factor that I love in musicians. His music makes me tap my feet, and he generally makes me feel happy and carefree. He has such a talent, and it’s a pleasure to sit back and enjoy it.

Don’t get me wrong, Mom. I adore the Michael Kors watch you gave me — and can’t wait to wear it — but I’m happily tapping my toes right now, relaxing after a week of entertaining, shopping, and generally freaking out about the holidays.

It’s time to relax.

And dance while no one’s looking.


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