Continuing with the cooking train of thought for a moment, I call some of the things I do rituals because I don't have to follow them. Sometimes conditions dictate that rituals be cast to the wind, as was the case this morning. After sitting through two episodes of Anthony Bourdain with nothing more than coffee in my stomach, I suddenly found myself in need of an emergency feeding. I hit the kitchen, and in about ten minutes -- maybe less -- I had a tasty, well-balanced meal in a bowl that tasted fantastic. That's my story and I am sticking to it, but I will admit that cardboard would have probably tasted good under those particular conditions.

When CDs first came out, I was absolutely elated. The convenience factor alone was thrilling. In a matter of seconds I could have a CD in the player programmed so I could hear the tracks I wanted to listen to, and I'd be sitting down and enjoying the music. After 31 years of having to pull an album out of the sleeve, handling it like was a live explosive device, carefully cleaning the album and so forth, playing a CD was nothing short of fantastic. And the process of how you handled and cleaned the album was not a ritual, at least not to me. It was an absolute necessity if you really wanted to listen to some music under optimal conditions. And what choices did you have? Sure, you could go with reel-to-reel playback, but I always found vinyl to be the better and most convenient of the two.

It is true that early CD releases didn't sound all that great, but the quality of digital playback has improved in increments of quantum leaps over the years, and we are now at the point where some remastered digital versions of some old vinyl favorites are not only better, they are stupid better. (That unnamed example is unusual, I know. But you can't deny that digital has improved.) But over time, I started to experience a pesky little problem when listening to CDs, and after awhile that pesky little problem matured into a big pain in the butt.

The problem? It seemed that if I pulled out a couple of CDs for a listening session, I was essentially putting on a billboard saying "I'll be sitting in the living room for at least an hour, so now is the time for idle chat, settling minor disputes and resolving problems". In other words, both the quality and the quantity of my listening time suffered big time.

Then, about a year ago, Mr. Peshkin sent me a big box containing a turntable that he had found and carefully restored. (I promptly returned the favor by destroying the stylus on the Audio Note cartridge he loaned me at the same time, but that wound is still too fresh and I don't want to talk about it.) I had been thinking about putting a table back in my rack for awhile, but had held off for a number of reasons. First, I was a little fearful that the first thing I'd do if I had a turntable would be to run out and buy a whole s***load of 180 and 200g LPs. I know me. I think that when my parents were teaching me about restraint, moderation and being practical -- assuming they did try to do so -- I was busy listening to "the Beatles in my head". Second, I wondered what the heck I would play on the turntable. Most of the vinyl I had at that time consisted of albums I considered to be collectibles, there to sit on a shelf, but not to play.

I managed to avoid running out and buying large quantities of 180 and 200g albums because I had other issues in my life. It helps that we have a few good new and used vinyl outlets in the LA area, too. And I finally got over the "collectible" issue, when one day I woke up and realized that there was little chance I would ever actually sell any of those albums, and eventually some relative would be sitting somewhere sorting through them, wondering "What the hell should I do with these?".

So suddenly what I used to consider a process for playing albums became a ritual, and an enjoyable ritual at that. I have lots of options, I don't have to listen to any particular album on vinyl. But when I do I enjoy it. And for some reason or another, when I get up and grab an album, handling like it is some exquisite, priceless object, carefully cleaning it and then pressing play, it broadcasts a different message throughout the household. It's a rather simple message: Be quiet please, I am going to listen to this album. The cool thing is that the message works. "Why even the cats and that damned parrot......"

[Before I continue I have to say that the quality of vinyl playback is often better, sometimes infinitely better, than digital. So please keep the flying monkeys in their cages.]

The bottom line is that rituals are a good thing, provided you can keep them in the ritual category. And come to think of it, they aren't anal quirks, either, so take that Mrs. bwk.

Now, if I could just do something about my lucky underwear superstition.

 I find as I get older... - mkuller 20:59:45 11/08/09 (4)
 Now that I am operating at about 90% (knock in wood), - Bruce Kendall 10:49:37 11/09/09 (1)
 Glad to hear you're... - mkuller 11:21:20 11/09/09 (0)
 I've always needed ritual... - ElbowGeek 06:35:52 11/09/09 (1)
 I think our rituals and routines are all about... - mkuller 11:20:22 11/09/09 (0)
 The only problem I have with rituals... - JimK 15:27:54 11/07/09 (1)
 I see. I suspect someone in your household - Bruce Kendall 10:46:26 11/09/09 (0)
 lucky underwear superstition. - Muzikmike 15:19:46 11/07/09 (0)
 My problem is I require myself to stick to my rituals... - pretzel_logic 15:16:59 11/07/09 (1)
 I used to wake up - Muzikmike 15:23:56 11/07/09 (0)