Last week during dinner I asked Jessica what song she would sing if she made it to the finals of American Idol.
She squinted a bit in a thoughtful, far-off gaze, pursed her lips, and turned to me and said, "Ummm... proooobably Meatball," finishing her answer with subtle nodding indicating that after much thought it was certainly the best choice for an answer.
"Huh? Meatball?" I eloquently replied, swiftly scanning my musical Rolodex for a meatball-related song and finally resting on "On Top of Old Smokey" as the selected song from Jessica's mental jukebox. This made little sense, as I'm sure Simon, Randy, Paula and New Girl would certainly have an issue with her "song choice" at that stage of the game.
"What's MEATBALL?" I asked again.
"I sang it all the time on karaoke, so I'd pick that one," she said.
I stared back -- I was out of ideas. It couldn't be "Old Smokey." I scaled my search back from "Meatball" to all meat-related songs and artists.
Cheeseburger in Paradise? No...
"You mean Meat Loaf?" I asked.
"YES! Of course, Meat Loaf!", she said with a bit of an embarrassed self-giggle. Eventually, we crescendoed into a minute-long guffaw about her mental block, especially when we realized it may have been influenced by her polishing off a meatball sandwich earlier in the day.
Classic. I love my wife.