My latest source of delight.

A record player.

Who would of thought that such an old and out of date machine could bring me so much joy?  This beautiful little trinket is the most recent find of one of my many garage sale adventures embarked on this summer.  The twenty-five greenbacks burning a hole in my pocket was a small price to pay for a door to hundreds of new [or rather old] musical possibilities.  In a wonderful vintage blue, accented by off-white tweed, this beauty has already found a home in my newly painted apartment [notice the breathtaking yellow background] , and is even roommate approved.

Records.  My new addiction.  Seriously though, I can't stop buying them.  My first purchases were simply based on cover-art and used to snazz-up my bedroom wall.  Now, as I have acquired the means with which to listen to them, I just can't seem to suppress the urge to buy more.  And now my roommates have caught the fever.  Our collection grows by the week, and having never paid more than $1 a record, I can't say any of us mind.  Though often times my purchases are still based on cover art, as I do not pretend to be any sort of music expert, the laughter that ensues while listening to the random records absolutely lessens the blow of my musical ignorance.  It's usually hilarious haha.  From Bob Dylan, to Ella Fitzgerald, to boot-stomping square dancing tunes, I never run out of things to listen to.  One of my personal favorites thus far is George Melachrino's Under Western Skies, an orchestral album for cowboys.  Complete with the clip-clopping sound of coconut horse hooves and the most beautiful arrangement of "Home on the Range" I've ever heard, it is guaranteed to transport you back to the wild west. Close your eyes while listening to this record, and it is much easier than one might expect to imagine oneself as Annie Oakley in another life.  I absolutely speak from experience haha.