Everything is Beautiful

Given The Audiophile's propensity to seek out audio stores far and wide and my propensity to tag along behind him like a partially potty-trained puppy, I've developed a new game to entertain myself so I don't accidentally chew on a magazine or piddle on the carpet while he fondles the merchandise. The rules of the game are simple: quietly find the prettiest item in the store as defined by me.

The last store was easy. The hands-down winner was a newly released, high-gloss rosewood number from my favorite speaker company. This manufacturer, according to the video on their website, employs mostly women who are allowed to repeatedly touch the speakers (including the drivers) throughout the manufacturing process.

Additionally, they state, "Loudspeakers perform best in rooms with normal furnishings such as bookshelves, flowers, vases, and soft furniture." Perhaps, audiophiles, this helpful tip from The Experts will inspire you to move beyond sound panels and acoustic diffusers as your sole means of aesthetic victory.

And that, my friends, is audio winning.

I Left My Heart

As the grand finale to celebrating my birthday for the entire of May, The Audiophile took me on a surprise trip to San Francisco. It only seemed fair that I reciprocate the love by taking him to an audio store conveniently located within walking distance of the Hop-On-Hop-Off bus tour.

This particular audio store was refreshing in that the proprietors seemed very friendly even though they undoubtedly detected we were on an Audiophile Field Trip which, to the trained eye, in no way resembles an Audiophile Buying Trip.

While The Audiophile was otherwise occupied, I took advantage of the opportunity to eavesdrop on another patron who was conveying to the proprietors that he couldn't buy what he wanted to buy because his wife handles the finances. Interestingly enough, I too handle the finances in our household. Maybe it's because I'm the one with the finance degree, and maybe it's not.

And that, my friends is audio winning.

Do Your Ears Hang Low

The Audiophile has been experiencing an uncomfortable sensation in his ears of late. He is blaming it on his system's mid-range because an audio buddy came over with a Geiger counter, and that was the official verdict.

The interesting thing is my dainty upstairs system doesn't seem to fatigue his ears. I kindly suggested it was because I never tweak my system or replace any of the components or play it over 70dB. He responded by looking at me through his eye slits.

To be sure his ears were functioning properly, he decided to clean them with a concoction of hydrogen peroxide and several other household products that I recall using in elementary school science class to make a miniature volcano. Since he had not appreciated my two cents on the subject of why my system was superior to his, I decided not to pipe up with my concern about him fashioning Old Faithful on the side of his head. Instead, I dutifully assembled the requested ear-cleaning ingredients and quietly pulled up a chair to watch.

And that, my friends, is audio winning.

The Happy Birthday Song

The Audiophile woke up this morning next to an older woman. She didn't feel old, and in the dark she didn't look old. Still, when those under 20 (and you know who you are) call those over 50 "old" it muddies the harmonics of the occasion.

This brings me to my semi-annual attempt to convince my viewing audience that I am real, I am a woman, I am married to The Audiophile, and I don't look a day over 49. So for those of you (and you know who you are) who continue to post comments on various audio forums about me not being me: Stop it.

To celebrate the release of wife 5.0, The Audiophile has taken me with him on a business trip to Chicago. While he is being a grownup, I'll be enjoying a self-guided tour at The Art Institute with the optional headset rental. Sure, those disposable ear buds won't attenuate the background noise, but they will provide me with abundant bits of tid including the fact that I am definitely not old enough to have posed for the American Gothic painting.

And that, my friends, is audio winning.

Dirty Laundry

A while back, The Audiophile added an acoustic feature to our laundry room. As with many modern-day laundry rooms, ours is located on the main floor, near the kitchen, for womanly convenience. This, of course, comes at the expense of manly sanity when a load of dungarees with pocket change is cranked up during dinner.

The Audiophile's solution, as you've probably guessed, was a very large sound panel. I can't tell if this has provided a less fatiguing laundry experience, but I have tried clapping like a maniac to test the sound stage, which serves, if nothing else, as a self-gratifying standing ovation.

The right thing to do would be to put The Listening Chair in there and run an A/B test with and without the panel. I'd need several demo loads of laundry to test all frequencies, and some graph paper to sketch the distortion spectrum. Who knows, maybe I'd be so impressed with the stereo image of the washer and dryer that I'd stop calling laundry a chore and start calling it a hobby.

And that, my friends, is audio winning.

Smart in a Stupid Way

The Audiophile's newest configuration of components has been problematic from my perspective. More often than not he opens the daily box that arrives from somewhere in the universe, usually Canada, goes to The Listening Room, fiddles around for a while, and reports one or more of the following: It ate a resistor. It ate a capacitor. It ate a vacuum tube.

Granted my memory is highly selective and increasingly unreliable, but in my whole life, I'm fairly certain none of the music players I've purchased have performed this badly. Until I was introduced to the magical kingdom of high-fidelity audio, I operated under the assumption that a successful purchase had been made if you bought a device, plugged it into a normal wall socket, pressed an obvious start button, and music happened.

Clearly this is why I'm a knuckle dragger when it comes to understanding why anyone would ever find this hobby enjoyable. Perhaps if I take a few graduate-level courses in marketing or some other field of study to which all the smart people gravitate, I too will begin to grasp the beauty of owning a collection of components that are highly volatile, regularly incompatible, and always hungry.

And that, my friends, is audio winning.

Let It Rain

The Audiophile and I will be immersed in the vocal glory of one of his girlfriends this weekend as she graces the Midwest on her Glad Rag Doll tour. I keep looking at the album cover with a sense of depressed admiration. Sister, seriously, it's hard enough for us common wives to compete with you vocally, now this.

I'm not sure what to wear to the concert besides a rain poncho, which is a non-negotiable item if you want to protect yourself from the spittle of middle-aged men shouting, "LOOK OF LOVE." Perhaps some form of dreadfully uncomfortable lingerie would be a nice touch under my turtleneck sweater as a goodwill gesture of my attempt to stay in the game.

In the end, there is no reason to compete with the mighty fine Ms. Krall. She has her talents, and we audio wives have ours. All that really matters is being completely devoted to our respective audiophiles, a heart-felt desire to lift our end of the sub-woofer, and the ability to feign interest in the modification du jour.

And that, my friends, is audio winning.

Points of View

The Audiophile has a thing about his feedback points or score or whatever it is Audiothong uses to rank its members' athletic abilities and good looks. If I had a nickel for every time he has referred to his apparently impressive score, I could make myself a suit of armor to be used as a decorative accent in our home. Sometimes I would be in the suit; sometimes not – The Audiophile would never know for sure.

It occurs to me that I should develop my own scoring system to promote desirable domestic behaviors. For example, if he matched his socks to his pants that would be worth 27 points. Or if he failed to flush the toilet that would be a negative 4,785.

If I could figure out a way to load my domestic tally into the Audiothong system, I'm pretty sure his concern for selecting the appropriate socks would rival his concern for carefully packing vacuum tubes and shipping CD players within six minutes of receiving payment confirmation.

And that, my friends, is audio winning.

Can't Touch That

Earlier this week, The Audiophile said, "I need to use your system to burn in some ICs." I slowly and methodically responded, "I seeeeee." He further explained that his system was presently indisposed and incapable of performing the task to which I again responded, "I seeeeee."

I was hoping for more dialog from him so I could repeatedly respond with, "I seeeee," until he embraced the beauty of my subtle, yet hysterical, sense of humor, but he instead missed the essence of the moment and proceeded to re-engineer my system to burn in his I SEEs.

The disc he chose for the burning in process has probably played through about seventeen hundred times and has likely re-engineered my brain for the worse. Sure, I could probably put in a different disc, but that would involve TOUCHING his CD player, and I'd rather be in need of a neuropsychologist than risk the consequences of crippling one of his rectangles with a distortion-producing fingerprint.

And that, my friends, is audio winning.

Song Dog

The Audiophile is continuing his conversion to digital, or computer audio, or whatever it is called that requires me to miss my daily class at the YMCA in order to sign for audio packages. These packages, mind you, rarely arrive during the time in which I could have been making a valiant attempt to maintain my less-than-girlish figure.

The new setup in The Listening Room is radically different. Many of the large rectangles have been replaced by smaller rectangles. This makes me happy and afraid. Happy, because smaller rectangles have a higher wife acceptance factor; afraid, because of what will surely need to happen if the smaller rectangles don't make him howl like a love-struck coyote on performance enhancing medication.

These days I'm listening carefully to his audiophile phone conversations in hopes of hearing him use some enthusiastic terms from his coyote-howling vocabulary. Because then, maybe then, I'll be able to spend less time carving my name into the grimy electronic clipboards proffered by FedEx and more time jumping up and down to the beat of fabulously distorted hits from the '80s.

And that, my friends, is audio winning.