The singing kitchen

I sing a lot when I'm home alone. There's nothing like belting out "Taylor, the Latte Boy" or "The Wizard and I" when there's no one to hear you. But lately, I've been hearing songs from my kitchen without any effort on my part.

This morning, while I was waking Anna up in the pitch dark at 7:30 (can't wait for the end of Daylight Savings Time), I heard music and voices. The noise sounded like it was coming through the vent by her bed. I hypothesized that Doyle or Will had left a TV on downstairs, but it sounded more like a radio.

Which is exactly what it was. Steve Hawbaker was here, working under a tarp to dig the foundation for the driveway bump-out, with a quiet radio for company. I hadn't even heard him drive up; the barely audible radio was the only indication of his presence. What a cold, miserable day to be working outside! He was joined around 9 a.m. by his brother Tom. I'm grateful to both of them for being here on a day like this.

The second musical event concerns Doyle's Illini bottle opener, which is still in a drawer in the upstairs kitchen. Using the opener causes it to play a jaunty version of the Illinois Fight Song, culminating in people cheering, "Gooooooo ILLINI!" Apparently, vibrations from the work have the same effect as opening a bottle. So, once in a while and for no apparent reason, I'll start to hear a muffled fight song coming from the drawer, as if the spatulas were taking on the measuring spoons in a hard-fought game of utensil football.

And from the sounds of it, whichever team the Illini bottle opener is rooting for is way ahead.