Black Velvet Lace

Neilbymouth

2010-06-20T17:23:00.005-05:00

Pete Townshend referred to him as *The Legend*. The bloggers referred to him as Neilbymouth. It is with the heaviest of hearts that I post the passing of Neil Emery, whose wit, talent, and sweetness was the essence of what the bloggers connections during TBHWM was all about.

RIP dear friend. We shall all miss you.

My Friend Summer

2009-08-19T10:10:00.004-05:00

Has a blog now! Visit her and tell her I sent ya.

All in a Summer's Day

Hmmm..

2009-08-19T10:06:00.002-05:00

.. last post was Jan. I guess it's time for a new posting.

This is it.

So there.

:P

My Nephew just left for Iraq

2009-01-05T17:03:00.002-05:00

And so this soldier's music touched me..

On a Red Couch

2008-07-26T23:40:00.005-05:00

Softly she strums, head bent
juggling the words
black scribbled on white
in the heat of the day
she wishes for night

Softly she hums, head bent
as twilight descends
and covers the bed
she chases the tunes
rolling inside her head

Softly she sings, head bent
the mists of her past
cloud the moon from it's light
and she sighs twice as deep
as the dark of her night

Softly she cries, head bent
the whistle of tea
in the kettle refrains
along with her muse
alone in her pain

But then softly she smiles, head bent
for the presence of he
in the heart of her she
trades her past with her present
instead

For Rachel, thank you for all you've shared with us this week in Kew.
xoxox
~Lace~

Rachel is a Kew-tie

2008-07-21T11:32:00.004-05:00

Rachel Fuller has moved bags and baggage to the village of Kew, 2 miles from her home, to work on a concept album. What a Kew-l idea.. ;)

Rachel the kewtie of Kew

Elizabeth Solaka

2008-02-29T21:29:00.001-05:00

Check out her photographs. Beautiful.

~Lace~

Connie Talbot 'I Have A Dream' ~ 'Over The Rainbow' album

2008-01-26T09:30:00.001-05:00

Connie Talbot I Will Always Love You ~album Over The Rainbow

2008-01-26T09:27:00.001-05:00

This child's talent is unbelievable.

Double Cross

2008-01-21T10:42:00.000-05:00

Boyfriend John Lewis is now once again playing with his pal Scooter, after linking up with the brand spankin' new Double Cross Band. I'm wishing the very best of luck to a great bunch of talented guys!!

(OK, now can I come sit in with yas?? :P)

A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum

2008-01-13T20:19:00.000-05:00

Rachel's forum that is..... several posts below I described the awesome invitation I received from one Mr Delbut of Wales to contribute a cover song from Rachel Fuller/Pete Townshend's *In the Attic/Who collection* for a compilation album. The album was a gift presented to Rachel, Pete, Mikey and Simon to thank them for their generosity to their fans (especially we bloggers!), and as a tribute to their internet show *In the Attic*. I chose to cover Behind Blue Eyes and was given premission from Rachel for BBE to appear at my Myspace and also International Artists Company (IAC). For all these things alone I was completely thrilled. If nothing more, this was enough.

But then a funny thing happened, something that so completely astounded me I am still pinching myself to see if I am dreaming. After posting BBE at IAC on a Sunday night, I awoke Monday morning to see that somehow Cashbox Magazine had heard the song, and placed it on their Top Ten Pop Picks chart!!!! I had no clue something like this could/would ever happen since I had no clue Cashbox had any connection to IAC! I watched BBE climb the chart, entering at # 10 the last week of November, to it's peak today at # 1!!!!! Holy Shades of Knock Me Over with a Feather Batman!! You can listen to it by clicking the following link.

Cashbox Magazine Top Ten Pop Picks

And so for this shameless announcement please forgive me, as I gush, know that I am completely humbled and indebted to Delbut for asking me to contribute to the album in the first place, for Jim Reynolds Sr for arranging and performing the ambient guitar parts that make the song so much more than I was alone, to Jim Reynolds Jr for his expertise with sound recording and engineering, to Rachel for giving her permission for the song to appear publically, and finally to Pete for writing such a classic that 37 years after it first grabbed the hearts of a generation it still has to power to reach # 1 status. I will always consider my remake a gift to you and to Rachel, that just happened to give some small thing back to me in return.

Connie Talbot melts Simon Cowell

2007-12-14T15:29:00.001-05:00

Every once in awhile an angel lights on earth. And this little girl is one of them.

Michael Israel.. worth the watch....

2007-11-06T13:11:00.001-05:00

::Waves from Blogation::

2007-10-29T15:57:00.000-05:00

Hellllooooo all. Since I've been on blogation (blog vacation) I've:

Stopped by here, here and there :P

Got spyware on Myspace.

Got rid of spyware on Myspace (Clean as a whistle now).

Attended a Halloween Party.

Went to The Office Convention in Scranton PA where it seems all went well despite the rain!! 13 cast members attended and a great time was had by all!! Check it out:

The Associated Press: Scranton Hosts an Office Party
More than 3,000 tickets were sold for the inaugural "Office Convention," the brainchild of local fans who wanted to showcase the city of about 75,000 residents. With several cast members making appearances, the convention drew fans from as far away as Australia, Ireland and Canada. While most events were held on the university campus, executive producer Greg Daniels and his writing staff tooled around the city in a minivan, seeking inspiration and story ideas. They wound up at Nay Aug Park, where they marveled at a gigantic handicapped-accessible treehouse built by the city. (Look for it in a future episode.)

The Associated Press: 'Office' fans Converge on Scranton PA
The first "Office" convention kicked off Friday morning with an appearance by NBC "Today" show weatherman Al Roker and the University of Scranton cheerleaders.

The Baltimore Sun: 'Office' Fanatics Flock to Show's First Convention
Part of the convention was washed out by soaking rains, though fans hardly cared.

USA Today: Scranton So Rocks 'The Office Party'
Executive producer Greg Daniels said the convention wasn't just for the fans; it was also a learning experience for the cast and crew. "It's as if we had been reading the Oz books and then actually visited the Emerald City," he said, adding, "It's so much more beautiful here than in Van Nuys (Calif.) where we film the show."

"Ain't no party like a Scranton party"

(and they weren't even here at St Pattys Day)

Here's looking to The Office Convention in 2008!!

Forgive Me

2007-10-23T14:42:00.000-05:00

If I don't post for awhile, or make it around to visit anytime soon. Life is out there beckoning, and I spend too much time missing it......

The Song You've Been Requesting...

2007-10-18T09:19:00.001-05:00

As a companion post to the one directly below, and to honor the request of many (well 2 of you anyway) may I present the song which shall be played at my funeral. It is as I say, an Irish classic!

http://www.gutenberg.org/files/10301/10301-m/10301-m-001.mp3

Author: Edward M. Favor

Mistress Murphy gave a party

Just about a week ago,

Everything was plentiful,

The Murphys, they're not slow.

They treated us like gentlemen;

We tried to act the same

And only for what happened,

Well it was an awful shame.

When Mrs. Murphy dished the chowder out

She fainted on the spot;

She found a pair of overalls

At the bottom of the pot.

Tim Nolan he got ripping mad,

His eyes were bulging out,

He jumped upon the piano

And loudly he did shout.

"Who threw the overalls in Mistress Murphy's chowder?"

Nobody spoke so he shouted all the louder.

It's an Irish trick that's true, but I can lick the Mick that threw

The overalls in Mistress Murphy's chowder.

They dragged the pants from out the soup

And laid them on the floor;

Each man swore upon his life,

He'd ne'er seen them before.

They were plastered up with mortar

And were worn out at the knee,

They had their many ups and downs

As we could plainly see.

And when Mrs. Murphy she came-to

She 'gan to cry and pout,

She had them in the wash that day

And forgot to take them out.

Tim Nolan, he excused himself

For what he said that night,

So we put music to the words

And sang with all our might.

"Who threw the overalls in Mistress Murphy's chowder?"

Nobody spoke so he shouted all the louder.

It's an Irish trick that's true, but I can lick the Mick that threw

The overalls in Mistress Murphy's chowderrrrrrr.

And Just in Time for Halloween...

2007-10-17T23:01:00.000-05:00

Tagged by Gypsy.. I'm forced to answer the following.. well not forced per se.. but you know what I mean.. :P

SURVEY ABOUT DEATH AND BEING A GHOST

1. How old do you think you'll be when you die?
I'm older than dirt NOW.. so I guess older than older than dirt.

2. How will you die?
Hopefully quick enuff to only have time for 3 last werds.

3. What will your last words be?
Jesus save me!

4. What will your epitaph read?
He did.

5. Any parts of your body you wouldn't donate?
Yes, all of them, how else will I explain my left eye belonging to some other woman from New Jersey at the ressurection?!?

6. What song will be played at your funeral?
Who Threw the Overalls in Mrs Murphys Chowder. It's an Irish classic.

7. Cremated, buried or "other"?
Personally I'd rather skip the 6 feet under thing and just get raptured. Hey, it worked for Elijah didn't it?!?

8. If you could take one thing with you to the "next life", what would it be?
Everyone I know. As a collective unit this counts as one *thing*, rite?

9. If you could take one person with you, whether they like it or not, who would it be?
My husband, and at the rate he drives, this might actually be quite feasible...

10. Supposing they existed, do you think you'd end up in heaven or hell?
Heaven, somebody already paid my deposit!

11. If you could haunt any one place, where would it be?
Uhm.. I do that now.....

12. If you could haunt any one person, who would it be?
Uhm I do that now too.....

13. What type of ghost would you be?
A holy ghost. NO not THE holy ghost, just a holy ghost.

14. You've been given the chance to send one message back to the land of the living. What does it say?
Everything the bible said? It was true.

So whoever is reading this has been ghost tagged.. so get to it then!

Crashing the Attic

2007-09-12T19:23:00.000-05:00

Well, color me thrilled! I was asked awhile back by Delbut (thanks Del!) to contribute a song for a tribute CD to present to Rachel Fuller, Pete Townshend, Simon Townshend and Mikey Cuthbert, of In the Attic fame. I chose to cover Behind Blue Eyes by The Who and asked my guitarist from Leather & Lace, Jim Reynolds now with Cameron Avenue band, to put his hand to the electric guitar parts. He accepted and made the song so much more than I was alone (thanks Jim!). His son Jim Jr engineered and mastered it (thanks Jim Jr!) and off it went to Rance Nakamura in Canada for the final mixdown onto the CD (thanks Rance!). Rance also did the cover/back/insert artwork (thanks again Rance!!)

Well, today Rachel reviewed and announced the CD on her blog. Thanks Rachel!!! She was gracious and kind and again, I thank her for her comments. Pete will be reviewing it next (thanks in advance Pete!). If you'd like to see the CD review and track listings, and later possibly hear the songs themselves, visit Rachel at the link below:

Look for the 9/12/07 blog entry titled Crashing the Attic

(Addendum: I've been given permission to post my contribution to CTA, a reprise of Behind Blue Eyes, at My Musicians MySpace as well as at Independent Artists Company IAC).

Tagged!?!?!

2007-09-05T15:23:00.000-05:00

Well, I've been tagged twice, once by TOWHM and once by Sully. THANKS GUYS! So I guess I'll *play by the rules* and give this a whirl. The directions are as follows:

1) Post rules before you give your facts 2) List 8 random facts about yourself 3) At the end of your post, choose (tag) 8 people and list their names, linking to them 4) Leave a comment on their blog, letting them know they've been tagged then the facts:

Facto one: I once ran approximately 16 red traffic lights at 2:30 am, fleeing from what I thought was a mad killer. Said *killer* began his chase when I sailed through a red light (nothing was coming) and blew a puff of smoke from a cigarette (I had attached to a long straw covered with silver tin foil) out of my window at him as he sat facing me across the light, waiting for it to turn green.

Facto two: I was dressed in my mother's dress from the 50s and a curly wig, in the *fleeing from a mad killer* incident (heretofore known simply as *the incident*).

Facto three: Four of my girlfriends were with me (the driver) during *the incident*. They too thought we were fleeing a mad killer (because that is what I told them). That's why they were screaming (it couldn't have been my driving).

Facto four: They too were dressed in their mother's dresses from the 50s. Two of them were also wearing wigs. One wore a wide brimmed hat and carried a large alligator purse.

Facto five: Before fleeing the *mad killer* through 16 red lights, our group had been clubhopping several favorite haunts (incognito).

Facto six: The five of us were not recognized by any of our friends/bartenders during the clubhopping, indeed one owner threw us out for insisting the eldest of us (we called her *Marge*) was 65 (we were in our 20s at the time) and needed a birthday cake with candles to celebrate properly.

Facto seven: When a second car with whirling red lights and a siren joined the parade, we discovered that it was not a *mad killer* but rather the chief of police (in an unmarked car) who had been chasing us (and quite quickly I might add) through 16 red lights.

Facto eight: I had forgotten to take my drivers license with me during *the incident*. I had to bring it to the station the next day. The policeman at the desk knew my dad because he was the Fire Chief and Grand Poobah of everything in town (remember? ::points below::). When I arrived (with 2 of my friends from *the incident*, they went for *moral support* but were laughing the whole time and almost got me in alot of trouble) the desk cop picked up a phone and said, "She's here". We were taken to a room where I was forced to sit in front of the chief while he gave me a very harsh lecture (he might not have been a killer but he sure was mad) on the dangers of running 16 red lights in a row. I had to bite my lip hard because my friends were on the other side of the room still laughing. The Chief waved a handfull of summons the whole time. They flapped back and forth while he yelled. Then he tore them in 1/2 and threw them in the garbage can and told us to go home.

It's a good thing. With all of those fines and points, I prolly wouldn't have my license back yet.

The end.

And I'm tagging:

Rachel Fuller
Bex Fuller
Gypsy Noir
Delbut
AndyfromSpiny
Gary Stockton
BallerinaGurl
Dale

INFJ

2007-09-05T13:50:00.000-05:00

I took the Myers-Briggs (again after taking it about 30 years ago). I wonder what my profile looked like then? Whatever the case, here is what it looks like now. If you'd like to take it, click on the description below the box.

INFJs, making up an estimated 1% of all people, are the most rare type (males even more so). They are introspective, caring, sensitive, gentle and complex people that strive for peace and derive satisfaction from helping others. INFJs are highly intuitive, empathetic and dedicated listeners. These traits tend to act as a "tell me what's wrong" sign on their forehead, hence the nicknames Confidant, Counselor or Empath. INFJs are intensely private and deeply committed to their beliefs.

Ponce a Wanna Time..

2007-08-28T18:54:00.000-05:00

.. there was a woman in the bathtub and no one knew who she was. Mony came home after school and thought she was alone. She'd breezed through the living room into the dining room with mom not in sight. She dropped her books and slammed body first into the bathroom door when the doorknob didn't budge. She blinked. Surprised at the locked door, she knocked. Instead of the familiar voice she expected, came a low bellow she did not recognize, "Who's there?!"

Who's there!? Mony glanced around quickly, stepped back from the door, and shot a quick retort, "You mean who's THERE?!"

Once again the mysterious low voice bellowed, louder this time, "Who's there?!?!?" At 14 one does not stick around long to take chances so Mony picked up a hammer from the table (there were always such things as hammers on tables there) and beat a hasty retreat to the neighbor's next door.

"Helen!! Helen are you home?? Open up!!" Mony's shriek sent 80 year old Helen rushing for the door. As Mony tumbled in waving her hammer, she quickly told the story of the stranger in her house, in her bathroom no less! Helen grabbed Mony by one hand, a high-heeled shoe by the other and started out the door.

"Where are we going?"

"To your house, to catch a culprit!", Helen raised the red shoe.

Back in the dining room Helen pounded on the bathroom door, holding the shoe aloft, "Open up!" With an ear cocked, Mony looked at Helen who looked back. Silence. "I said open up!" Silence.

"Try the door", Mony whispered.

Helen grabbed the knob but it refused to twist. Still locked. Fueled by the presence of an 80 year old protectoress Mony banged on the door this time, yelling at the top of her lungs, "Who's in thereeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!"

With palms floating lazily on the surface of the warm water, the woman reclined back in the tub, eyes closed, enjoying the moment. She sat up as the sound of thudding moved the waters more than her eardrums. Chuckling to herself at the banging and the hollering just outside the door, she lay back into the water, again letting it cover her ears, "Go away!"

Helen's mouth set a grim line, "We have to call the police".

While Mony paced in Helen's apartment, the woman gave the information and address to 911. A short time later a squad car pulled up in front of Fire Chief Harv's home. Mony and Helen, armed with a hammer and a shoe, met the nice patrolmen as they stepped from the car.

"Ma'am? Open the door", the policeman rapped on the bathroom door sharply.

Ears still submerged, the woman heard a voice. Concluding it was Mony's, she suppressed a laugh, and bellowed, "Go away, I'm taking a bath". A BATH? The cop blinked and ran a hand over his face. Oh, life in a small town. "Radio the station, Joe, I think we've got Iris Hammond in there. She's off her meds again and has been breaking into houses lately."

As Joe sat in the patrol car and explained the situation going on in Harv's, the Fire Chief and Grand Pooba of everything in town, bathroom, Mony and Helen exchanged baffled glances. Officer Bill looked around outside for the bathroom window located 12 feet in the air. He scouted up a ladder leaning against the house (there were always such things as ladders leaning against the house there) and climbed it high enough to rap on the glass.

"Ma'am? IRIS? OPEN THE BATHROOM DOOR."

Depsite the submersion, this time the woman heard the voice clearly. And it wasn't Monys. As she sat bolt upright in the tub, the water splashing about her, she began to realize her position. Grabbing for the shower curtain to draw across her, she stared at the silouette of the man on the other side of the frosted bathroom window.

"Mony, what's going on out there??" Mony's mouth dropped as she stepped to the door towards the voice that was no longer a full octave below it's usual range.

"Mom?"

Well to make a longer story shorter, it was mom. My mom. Playing a practical joke that backfired on her. Yes, my mom that chased that firecracker throwing kid through the parking lot several posts below. It took my dad, being the Fire Chief and Grand Pooba of everything in town, several months to live that particular incident down. (There were others, but this one is the tale of the moment). Don't forget his fire chasing buddies with a scanner, all of them to be exact, heard the tale.

"I hear your wife likes taking a bath, Harv."

"I hear Iris Hammond moved into your bathroom, Harv."

He was razzed for a long while. And we 5 girls still live to tell the story of the woman in the bathtub and no one knew who she was.

(The names of the living have been changed to protect the guilty) :P

New Post

2007-08-19T19:14:00.000-05:00

I am making a new post because Gypsy told me to (this time).
The End.

:P

~Lace~

PS I need to spruce up this blog with some color....

TODAY IS A NATIONAL HOLIDAY

2007-05-15T08:58:00.000-05:00

As today is the birthday of my oldest (not literally!) and dearest friend.. Mary Beth. Every year we'd gather for her bday party and eat spaghetti with those squirrely corkscrew noodles, served with gold flatware. We had a fine time, pinning tails on donkeys, wearing festive party hats, and running around the dining room table chasing Pierre (the dog). Yes, just as she always thought, it was a *national holiday* as back then, to me, our now 48 year friendship had encompassed my whole lil world.

Happy BDay Oldest Best Friend :)

What's So Good...

2007-04-06T22:08:00.000-05:00

....about Good Friday? Especially considering it started with a brutal flogging and ended in the crucifixion death of a man who had spent his public life giving sight to the blind, taking pity on the poor, and raising the dead. So if those events transpired, and I now believe they did, why do we call the day of His death Good Friday? What *is* so good about it? The fact that He was finally dead? What had he done? He'd never sinned against anyone, never hurt a living soul, never lied, never cheated, never committed a single crime. So.. what did they kill Him for? The answer my friend lies buried in a book that most of us never study in any depth. A book we disparage without ever having opened it's cover. And I was no different.

I was born and raised a churched Roman Catholic. I blew out of the Church in 1999; I was 44 years old and furious. Truth be told, for all the rosaries, novenas, masses, and parochial academia I'd attended, I was never much of a believer to begin with. As many times as I'd heard it said that *Jesus died for my sins* I'd no clue who that man was or what He had done for me. I didn't believe He had actually existed really, but was rather a fable. A nice moral tale to keep those of us in the pews in controlled line. I didn't know if there was a heaven or hell, but sure hoped that in the event there was either, my good deeds might outweigh my bad, so that I would ultimately end up strumming a harp on a cloud somewhere. Oh joy, oh rapture, oh brother.

Then something happened to me in 1999. Perhaps it was the immanent coming of Y2K. The end of an age. The end of the world? Perhaps it was just my time to be quickened. In any event, I blew out of the Church and within 6 months began to roil about in guilt. *What if there is a God.. what if there is a hell.. what if I didn't make 'purgatory'.. what if I roasted in eternal flames forever.. what if.. what if*.. it tortured me. I couldn't go back to religion, with it's rules and hypocrisy, that made no sense. But I could find nowhere forward to go. That's when I looked at all of my choices (other philosophies/religions, atheism/satanism). I chose from among them (well I'd never actually considered satanism as a choice but hey.. it's out there.. with a surprising message I'd never known about) to start studying scripture and found out something I had missed all those years I had sat around with my moral Catholic i's dotted and t's crossed. It wasn't about *being good enough to make it into the angels in the clouds club*. If heaven truly is a place of perfection where there are no tears, I came to see that even if it was my daily transgressions would inevitably nix that possibility anyway. I wreak havoc; I cause tears, even when I don't mean to. So then, this was about something far more pertinent than *right and wrong/good and bad* to Him.. no.. He wanted more than compliance from me. He wanted all of me. He wanted my heart.

The first time I read Ephesians 2:8-10 I reacted like everyone I've ever shared it with. Salvation is a matter of faith and not works. WHAT? If I just *believe* I get to go to heaven, well what if I *believe* and steal a car, do I get to go there then?? What if I commit a murder, do I still get to go there then? And what about all the *good people* that didn't *believe* (my own present company I included), how could they not go to heaven? What about the pygmies in the deepest forest of Africa. WHAT.. ABOUT.. THE HINDUS!?!?!

What I didn't realize at the time was that I was looking at this through human eyes. Not God's eyes. I was equating human goodness with godly holiness, I didn't know He doesn't. I was falling flat when it came to object constancy, I didn't know He wasn't. Humans let go when others hurt them deeply enough. God waits in the wings no matter what. So all the while I was looking at Him through the child-like concept of religious checks and balances, He was looking at me through the eyes of a father. My father. I expected earned reward and due punishment for all of my behavior, and all the while He was loving me. Me. No matter what. This before I gave Him the time of day. What had I done to deserve that? Truthfully nothing. He just loved me for no other reason than simply because I was the me He had created. So how did I get to be with Him? I didn't. He leaned down and made His way to me. Which brings us back to Good Friday.

As Roman soldiers drove spikes through Christ's wrists to fasten Him to the cross, He pleaded with His father: Luke 23:33 When they came to the place called the Skull, there they crucified him, along with the criminals—one on his right, the other on his left. 34Jesus said, "Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing." Wait. He is praying for the enemy? The guys who wielded the hammers that pounded the nails through His flesh into the hard, dry wood of a cross? What kind of grace is this? What kind of love? And why were they nailing Him to a cross anyway? What was the significance of His actions that entire passover night?

(Post under construction)

Book Tag Too

2007-03-16T21:51:00.000-05:00

Went to Gypsy's blog and saw the book tag, guess I'll join the crew.

1. Find the nearest book: Romans, Vol 1

2. Name the author: Dr David Jeremiah

3. Turn to page 123. Go to the 5th sentence on the page and then copy the next 3 sentences on your blog: "Of works? No, but by the law of faith. Therefore we conclude that a man is justified by faith apart from the deeds of the law."

To Delbut

2007-03-16T13:10:00.000-05:00

Del,

I did!!! I did answer your email!! Aren't they getting thru to you????? I AM interested!! Where can I go to find the songlist to pick my 2 songs????!!!!

~Lace~

He's At It Again

2007-02-22T00:53:00.000-05:00

Pete Townshend is bloggin' once again folks. Last time he garnered feedback for his novella The Boy Who Heard Music, this time it's his biography. Click the links below to access his new blog. Hope he let's us comment once again!

http://www.petetownshendwhohe.blogspot.com/ (<~He does! :)

http://petetownshend-whohe.blogspot.com/

Ghosts of Christmas Future

2007-02-08T23:20:00.000-05:00

How often do we think of them? What we will be? What we won't?

If I had a dream to fulfill it would be to pass a hand over the suffering I encounter everywhere and soothe it well. Including mine.

MY space

2007-02-08T23:07:00.000-05:00

Well, I've constructed a Myspace but have no clue how to direct you to it by link. You can get there if you click on the title of this post, but otherwise ::shrugs::.

I've had it since May of '06 but had no clue how to post to it till now. Cyberspace challenged I am. Of course my sisters all laffed at me. But *they* don't officially have James Taylor as *their* new best friend.....

PS I told him how Kia stole his portrait!

:P

Palms.. PDAs..

2006-12-22T12:27:00.000-05:00

PITIFUL!!!

Yup, poor poor pitiful me. I've owned my Tungsten E2 for less than 24 hours and in the 1st step process of *charging it* have already had to call tech support. For an abstract thinker, I can be concrete as... concrete... (just ask about the time my husband and I were asked to go up a flight of stairs *one at a time*). When I followed the directions for dummies (pics and all) it said to let the device charge for 3 hours. Now, have YOU ever seen a device that didn't have a bar or screen that indicated it was charging? No. I didn't think so. Well my Palm doesn't have one! So before it charged, I clicked *next* and well, you guess the rest. Punching a few hundred buttons doesn't help. Lost in a flurry of menu screens I threw in the towel and called the nice girl at tech support whose accent was indiscernable to a yankee like me. I GUESS it's charging now!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I Wish you Merry Christmas..

2006-12-18T18:50:00.000-05:00

...happy New Year too..

Remember when Karen Carpenter sang those words? I think I sang them some 20 Christmasses running, for private parties, in clubs, or just in the car headed for the mall crammed with shoppers. Hard to believe she's gone and another year is almost through. I spent the Christmas before last in bed sick, and last Christmas barely over it. You'd think now that I'm finally up and around, I'd be thrilled to pull everything from under the stairs that has sat there for three years running.

I've not decorated a thing except for a strand of obnoxious blinking lights drapped all over my dying bushes outside. I've always loved this holiday. Something magical stirred in my soul sitting quietly before a lit tree on Christmas Eve. Snuggled in a blanket, warmed, watching it's lights twinkle off windows that overlook a snowy yard. Somehow, this year, it all runs together. One day to the next.

Perhaps I'll wish upon a falling Christmas star. Perhaps I'll hear the tinkle of a bell and know an angel has gained her wings. Perhaps I'll catch a glimpse of a raindeer hoof planted squarely in the middle of my roof. Perhaps.

I hope. Perhaps.

Now that I have read..

2006-12-14T19:30:00.000-05:00

..the entire internet, I do have to say, with DSL, it is so much quicker! :P

DSL

2006-12-08T12:32:00.000-05:00

I am going to attempt to connect into my new DSL today. One of two things may happen. I will be zipping around the internet like a whiz.. OR.. I will mess up my computer so bad you will never see me again.......

Clouds

2006-11-29T23:29:00.000-05:00

Bows and flows of angel hair

and

ice cream castles in the air

And feather canyons

everywhere

I've looked at clouds

that way.

Joni Mitchell

Ponce a wanna time, I once looked at clouds that way. Hidden deep in the tall grass in a meadow by the lake I'd lay in the sun. Lazy summer afternoons, one arm crooked behind my head, squinting, watching clouds roll by. There goes a rabbit. There goes a clown. There goes a rabbit chasing a clown. Maybe the clown would chase the rabbit. They were just clouds, puffs of white. Curious shapes drifting across the most gorgeous blue of the sky. They meant nothing more than that.

I spent the better part of my adulthood and all of my childhood wishing for the faith of my best friend, Mary Beth. We met when I was 4 turning 5, so that made her 3. I remember our first encounter. We met at the end of her driveway, located exactly five houses up the street from mine. I was sent to the store for bread or some other daily necessity and there she was. Standing at the end of the gravel, an only child. Did I want to play dolls with her? Are you kidding? Sure!! The only other friend I had was a boy, Jerry, who lived behind me. He and I played cowboys and Indians, or threw rocks into the woods. But Mary Beth wanted to play dolls! And so began one of the deepest and longest relationships I've had with anyone outside of my family.

We dressed up in our mother's old clothes. We played spies and Barbies and mud pies. We'd visit the neighbor and play her piano. Ocassionally we'd even lay in the grass and watch clouds together. Later when we'd play school, I found out something about Mary Beth that both drew me and left me empty. During *class* I'd write things like, *See Dick. See Jane. See Dick and Jane and Spot*. While she would write things like, *God loves me*. Over and over and over again. Coming the eldest from a brood of five I always wondered who that God was and why He didn't seem to love me. I was positive He certainly did love her. She said so.

Sometime around the end of middle school Mary Beth moved away. Four blocks! It was tragic! No more running a few feet at midnight to watch the stars in her backyard! No more tailgate sleepovers on the back of my parents beat up green station wagon! Who am I kidding. That's a lie. We adjusted to the move in a week and went on like there was no separation whatsoever. Except for one thing. She always seemed to know everything, everything, was going to be ok. Because God loved her. No matter what. While I used to lay in bed at night, afraid. Of everything. The night. The future. The silence of the present, there in bed, watching clouds float past the window and cover the face of the moon.

Looking back I can recall the faith of her father. His head bent in prayer, fingers entwined with rosary beads, kneeling at the side of his bed. I thought for years she had inherited it from him, much like the color of her hair. This faith that wasn't for me. Separated from it like candies displayed behind the thin glass pane of a candy shop. My hands and nose pressed to it's cold, eyeing all the goodies there. Just beyond my reach. I longed for the security it seemed to bring them, but eluded me. We'd all grown up Catholic, and Lord knows I'd been churched enough, schooled enough, lectured enough to have had some semblance of belief. But the truth was, I simply did not. And no matter how hard I *tried* to believe, I just didn't. I couldn't. I might have wondered and did alot of pretending, but I did not have the core conviction that there was a Man who had walked the earth, died and rose from the dead. Much as it might have been explained to me, I had no clue what the purpose of the whole fable was about to begin with.

Then one day, at 44, sitting in a lawn chair in my back yard, one leg dangling over the side as I watched the same clouds that had amused me as a child roll past, a thought occured to me. A simple thought really, but one I'd never had before. It was this. It rains when it needs to, and it stops when it's time. It never rains so much as to wipe us out. And the sky never withholds until we are in real trouble. It does this day by day, season in and season out. The balance is delicate and perfect. It works together with all the rest of nature. And that is when I knew like Mary Beth knows, it's too perfect to be random. This is no accident; it's not by chance. It cannot be. To float steadily in space, slightly askew, without a deluge to drown us as we mosey on our ways, there must be Someone responsible to see that the clouds do what they properly do to keep this old world spinning in it's fragile perfection.

And so suddenly clouds that were merely white wisps a few seconds ago weren't just rabbits and clowns anymore. Sitting up slowly from my comfortable slouch I saw them through new eyes. Glancing here and there, I saw also the perfection of my bearded iris, and the bizillion blades of grass that covered my lawn in a way I'd never noticed before. A breeze that lifted my hair wasn't just a casual happening. It was part of what keeps this place in perfect balance, along with the gravitational pull of the entire universe, to keep me from spinning off it. How did I miss what Mary Beth had known all along; had tried to tell me so many years ago, her brows knit with intent, bent writing in crayon over that old yellow lined paper?

Later that night, flipping through the bible I'd bought, a secret of the ages was revealed to me. On the pages of Romans it is written:

20 For since the creation of the world His invisible attributes, His eternal power and divine nature, have been clearly seen, being understood through what has been made, so that they are without excuse.

There it was in black and white. God reveals Himself through nature. I'd been studying clouds all my life and had almost missed the most important thing they had to say to me. What a fool I'd been to not see it. My only excuse was that I eventually had fancied myself too sophisticated and educated to *buy it*. The fable. I had dismissed the miracles as ridiculous while watching them happen before my very eyes, day by day. It is a miracle when a baby is born. When a drop of rain feeds a plant that blooms a petal, that yields a fruit that feeds a child. Miracles that are so ordinary we fail to appreciate their brilliant significance. I can only say this in being humbled. Mary Beth was right. God loves her. And He does love me.. too.

Gypsy's Gethsemane

2006-10-19T09:58:00.000-05:00

For those who don't know, Gypsy sent me a copy of the Al Stewart song and I have to admit at first I wasn't quite sure what to make of it. Having made a jump from from Agnotic to Evangelical Christian several years ago, my first knee-jerk was to stiffen. Was it a ridicule? No, she wouldn't hurt me that way. A statement then? A tribute? A Lament? Let me tell you a story as I ponder what the song means not only to me, but to Stewart and to Gypsy as well.

Ponce a wanna time I flounced my way to school dressed in a pleated wool skirt, resplendent with crisp white oxford shirt and smart navy blue weskit. Yes, there were saddle shoez and bobbie sox to complete *the look*, not to mention the pale yellow golf jacket. The stitching on a small emblem (a Sacred Heart of Jesus patch) sewn just over my own heart was cut neatly open at the top, the perfect *Lace-made* pocket to store loose change for lunch. (Money shielding my heart from Christs.. hmm..). I was glad, no ecstatic, for the uniform. The oldest of five girls raised by devout, albeit poor, Roman Catholic parents, it provided me a hiding place from the fashion show of the public school from which I had transferred in 7th grade. I was the only one in the *new school* that knew without it, my social status would have ranked somewhere between last and nonexistent amidst the public school's Bobbie Brooks. The pain of 6th grade's repetitive two or three outfits and one pair of shoes, noticed by girls dressed in fashionista splendor, can still embarrass me. To this day.

Once captured by Catholic acacemia, I seemed bound to it from high school through graduate school. To top things off, I found myself joining the professional work force of Catholic Social Services and a Jesuit University following graduation, in that order. But for all those religious affiliations, nevermind instructions, here is the curious part. I didn't *believe in Jesus*. I'm not talking about not believing that He was the Son of God, or that He performed miracles; rose from dead. I mean I didn't believe He existed at all. I thought He, like Adam and Eve, Noah, Moses, Abraham, all of them, were fictitious characters cast in a novel of superstitious Neanderathal proportions. Nice moral *figures* the Church used as examples, or threats depending on your viewpoint, to keep control of its masses.

The effect of this was a deep internalization of existential emptiness. Fear. Fear beyond fear. Fear beyond loneliness. The kind of fearliness that leaves you laying awake at 3 am with nothing but the ache of oblivion and the ringing of an ocean in your ears. Like listening into a large conch shell, with no soothing waves to lull you rolling in and out from the shore. (I prolly have tinnitus from piping all that blasting music directly into my eardrums, hence the ringing- to me it always sounded like an ocean nevertheless).

Study the *lives of the saints* at the feet of priests and nuns who paint themselves as superior and you'll understand how insignificant, inconsequentional and inadequate a soul can feel. Before I left the Church I made my way through the motions of Mass and Catholic life feeling like a part of the waking dead. Not quite *bad enough* to warrant eternal fires, not quite *good enough* to merit the heavenly realms Mother Teresa surely would. My soul just suspended on a thread, hovering over hell, with God tossing about the idea of cutting the string just as I was performing one sin of conseqence or another. Empty, frightened, alone, with a seashell's ring wafting through my soul on long sleepless nights.

Then Gypsy posted awhile back and I thought I recognized a flicker of my own pain. Awake at 4 am. The ticking of a clock. The silence of the night. Afraid to give in to death, afraid to keep on living to postpone the inevitable. I realized how long it had been since I felt that fearliness. And then I contemplated the reason it's gone. Gethsemane. Gethsemane and the Man who'd knelt there sweating blood as He prepared to sacrifice Himself for me had healed it. Soothed it like warm tea sliding down a sore throat. A soft blanket wrapped about me in a snuggly bed. A mother's arm around sobbing shoulders. And my heart ached not for me, but for Gypsy. The thought of her padding about her house, looking out black windows into a blacker night, wrenched me. *Gutted* as Neil says, I wanted to save her from it. What difference did it make that I've never met her face to face? That our lives have never touched physically and that I don't really *know* her? She is a person on this planet, with an angst I can vaguely remember. And that is enough. It wasn't until then I realized that the same Man who'd begged forehead to the ground at Gethsemane for a different outcome before dawn that night, knew how I'd felt staring at the ceiling in the darkness wondering where God was. And when He bled out on a cross with arms stretched wide before the next sunset, He felt the same way about me. About the soldiers that had nailed Him to it. About Gypsy. He wanted to pull me into Him and take away my pain. Her pain. I looked at Stewart's song again and saw it. The message. Stewart hated *religion* as much as I when I fled the Church to join the church. But he didn't lump Jesus into the hypocrites equation. He saw Him as standing apart, watching the circus.

So who is this Jesus? Apparently unlike what I'd been taught as a child. He's not accessible only through His mother. He's not judgmental like the two Christians I visited with last week. He does not stand on ceremony, is not impressed by fame, not foiled by evil, not touched by the death that used to send that cold existential sweep down my bed-ridden spine. When He wept it was in the context of relationship; grieved over the pain etched on the face of a friend, over the downfall of a city overcome by religion. He ate with sinners and loved the worst of the lot. He forgave me for not believing He could... love even me... that He would.

Perhaps it was Stewart who, escaping *Church*, described Him best. I wonder what it is that Gypsy sees in the words?

Oh I dodged the collection box choirboy and out
To the streets where the wind shook my hair with a shout
And the dusty-faced daisies were blowing about So freely
And Christ in the ruins was wandering again
As he walked with the beggars and talked to the lame
And danced with the children and sailors who came

ok.. oK... OKKKKK

2006-10-19T09:11:00.000-05:00

I'll post, but only because I have been pressed to contort my brain to think of sumethin' to say. Let's see. Ok, first..

I'm pretty excited as our fledgling duo is teetering on the edge of becoming a trio. I won't say more, so as not to jinx it, but I got a call from a stellar guitar player asking to join us and so I'm crossing my fingers and toes that he will have the time to work with Raven and me. More on that as things unfolds.

::Thinks:: Ok, second..

I've pulled out all of my old synth programming and for the life of me cannot get my Alesis drum machine to drive my Ensoniq keyboard. I've switched the midi cords every which way and looked at all of the internal controls; all seems to be in order. I've even switched one keyboard with another but to no avail. When I kick on the drummer it plays but does not drive the keyboard, hence *I got drums but no music*. If ANYone reading this knows WHAT I'm talking about and can help me.. PLEASE COMMENT!!

::Thinks:: Ok, third..

I'd like to thank Gypsy for sending me Al Stewart's Gethsemane. I reflected a long time on that song. The more I reflect, the more I'm inclined to put those thoughts in another post. GAH.. after all this time maybe TWO POSTS in one week!! :P

::Thinks:: Ok, fourth and last..

I've been published! Yes it may be for a scholarly rather than poetic work, but such is the way these things do happen!

I Am Updating My Blog..

2006-09-15T13:08:00.000-05:00

because Delbut told me to.

The end.

BEXTRA BEXTRA READ ALL ABOUT IT

2006-08-14T10:40:00.000-05:00

Hey guys, the Bexter is back online. Click the title of this blog posting and visit her!

Welcome back Bex!

The Bat

2006-07-20T21:04:00.000-05:00

It is time to finally tell the story of the bat.

Ponce a wanna time, when I was about 14, I spent summers living at the lake. My friend Jeryl who lived down the road (there were no streets, just dirt roads at the lake) asked me to stay over for a pajama party. Since there were only two of us girls on the lake that summer, the party was rather small. Just her and me. After doing all the regular things girls do at a pajama party we actually fell asleep. This was my fatal mistake.

Sometime around 4 am I was awakened by a slight flick on the top of my blanket. I sat up in the pitch dark, wondering what it could have been. Jeryl was sound asleep in the bed nearby, so I laid back down. *Flick*, there it was again, I sat up, but in the attic room I could see nothing. By the third time I felt it, I was fully awake. It was only then that I heard the unmistakeable, sickening sound that only a bat on the wing can make.

Immediately I froze. Thoughts ran through and out of my head as sheer fright had overtaken me. I could not move; the room went completely silent other than Jeryl's breathing. Ten minutes passed like ten year. Foraging through my mind for everything I knew about bats, I came up with two facts. They carry rabies. They can crawl into the thinnest of cracks. I began to realize that the silence meant the bat had landed SOMEWHERE IN THE ROOM. Imagining the vampire had made it's way under the covers with me, I could stand it no more. Finally I sat up in the bed and let out a piercing scream which echoed off the other side of the lake. I swear. One split second later, Jeryl consequently sat up and began screaming herself. One split second after that her uncle, who owned the cottage, ran into the room screaming and threw on the light. Unbeknowst to me HE HAD A GLASS EYE. THAT HE HAD REMOVED GOING TO BED.

With everyone screaming in sheer terror now, the bat long forgotten, I lept from the bed and ran off into the night, pj's and all. You have to realize that after dark I am a complete coward, to this very day. But I ran the 1/2 mile home barefoot, over sticks and stones, like a thief in the moonless night. And I never went back there again.

And that is the story of THE BAT.

Ponce A Wanna Time..

2006-07-07T20:45:00.000-05:00

Legend has it (well my mother is a Legend now) that's the way I started every story when I was young. *Once Upon a Time* eluded me for some reason ::shrugs:: anyway, two days ago I received a frantic phone call from my mom. She was on her cell phone (yes and she's got internet access at 74 too- my parents crack me up) frantically explaining that she was at the Emergency Room and could not get in touch with my sister who is a physicians assistant. Thanks mom. Whataboutme? Turns out I am the one with audiological training and so she got the rite kid after all. Anyway, she went on to tell me the story of her encounter with a firecracker, the teen who threw it, and a bank full of employees who flocked to the window and cheered as they watched her run him down and hold him captive until the police arrived.......

It all started innocently enough. My parents were sitting at the drive up at the bank. The day being as it was, my mother sat with her window rolled down on her passengers side. It wasn't but a minute before she found herself blinking in disbelief as a kid, walking through the parking lot, threw a lit firecracker which went her way. It entered the car and exploded at her right ear. As the kid began to run, picking bits and pieces of firecracker from her hair, mom threw open her car door and chased him down like the dog he is. (I've no idea if the kid's a dog, I just always wanted to say that). My father couldn't get out as he had pulled too close to the bank, nor could he pull the car ahead, because when she exited, mom left her door wide open, blocking any ability to pull through the stall. (Not like dad could have done much more than limp towards them anyway. We're looking into new knees for him). Incapicitated as he was, dad stated yelling to the teller, "CALL 911.. CALL 911!" She consequently rushed for the manager as a janitor came running from across the street to close mom's car door. The Legend has yet to tell what benefit the latter was to the situation. From what I gather, once free, my father still kept his distance.

Across the parking lot my mother had caught the culprit and now had him in a viselike grip by the front of his shirt. He screamed, she screamed, insults were traded. Having cornered him mom released his shirt and held him at bay. If he moved to one side, she blocked him with moves that would make Michael Jordan jealous. If he moved to the other side, she blocked him with moves that would make Magic Johnson jealous. The kid is just lucky there was no basket, as I've seen Tillie (the Legends nickname) livid. In all likelyhood she'd have torn off his head and scored 2 points.

From inside the bank a gaggle of tellers rushed to the window. My dad watched them pressing to see, jumping up and down, cheering, as Tillie held her captive at bay. When the police arrived the kid was charged; from what I understand there were actually LOTS of charges. He was digging such a hole for himself, at one point my MOM told him to shut up to keep from getting into deeper trouble. His response? "You can't tell me what to do." Teenagers. ::Rolls her eyes:::

As for her hearing? Mom does have some loss. As for how much and if it's permanent? I'll keep you posted. In the meantime, those who know me, now know why my sisters and I can run so fast. :P

My Mother the Superhero

2006-07-07T00:20:00.000-05:00

Yes. My 74 year old mother is now a certified superhero since yesterday, when she apprehended a *criminal* at her local bank. I shall tell the story tomorrow. I am too tired to type any more tonight.

When are they going to invent a computer that can read and type out your mind?

Addendum: Think of the term *criminal* loosely (grin)

Lunch

2006-06-25T22:25:00.000-05:00

What did I have for lunch today you wonder? Well, let's see. A glass of soy milk, a banana, and a turkey breast sandwich, on wheat bread with mayo and MOLD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I ATE MOLD!!!!! GREEN AND BLUE MOLD!!!!!! IT WAS A HORRIBLE SIGHT!!!!!!!!! MUNCHING HAPPILY ONE MINUTE (ALBEIT WONDERING WHAT THAT *NEW* TASTE WAS).. SPITTING EVERYTHING IN MY WHOLE THROAT OUT THE NEXT!!!!!!!!!

Raven

2006-06-25T20:34:00.000-05:00

I have to tell you. I have done as you asked. I posted to Rachel that you would like to meet Paul McCartney through Pete, if possible.

PS. I think you are delusional.

Bex's Challenge

2006-06-18T22:30:00.000-05:00

Ok, Bex has challenged her blog visitors "to do the *20 things about me* task". (Click the title of this post to go to her blog, or click~> Just Bex). So, here goes nuthin...

1) Uhmmm.. ::thinx:: I have no pets, not because I don't love them, but because the allergist said I cannot simultaneously breathe and own one.

2) I am NOT from Essex! (Grin)

3) I WAS blonde.. as a child.

4) My *worst job* was selling furnaces. (Over the phone).

5) My *second worse job* was washing old nuns. (Nurse's aide in a convent).

6) I may have the order of *worse jobs* mixed up.

7) I did both of those jobs working my way through college.

8) I now have an advanced degree.

9) It has brought me beyond nun washing and telemarketing.

10) It has done nothing to help me with typos or simple math computations.

11) I cannot add or subtract in my head to save my life.

12) I sometimes accidentially gyp waitresses due to 10 and 11.

13) I was once a cocktail waitress (nuther college gig) and often gyped myself (can't make change either, even working with *a bank*- that's a cup of your own money you make change from to avoid shortchanging the establishment- I gave away all my tips by mistake due to this terrible problem).

14) 13 didn't matter too much because I didn't actually get that many tips (I spilled alot of drinks on patrons).

15) I am in the Guinness Book of World Records under *Most Horrible Ex-Cocktail Waitress on Earth*.

16) The club owner loved me despite my shortcomings.

17) 15 is false, however, 16 is true.

18) I once told a perspective (nuther college) employer that I can type 65 words per minute.

19) I then had to admit when I hit that speed, it doesn't say anything.

20) He hired me anyway. (He said for comic relief).

Ok, I'm tagging anyone who visits and reads this to do the same. Comment and link me if you do.

How Did YOU Meet Rachel?

2006-06-13T12:43:00.000-05:00

Having spent almost a year conversing with Rachel Fuller, online through email, her blog and this one, I began to wonder how everyone else at rachel F came to meet her. My story is as follows. I'd love to hear yours.

Last summer VH1 aired the program, *Kept*, featuring Jerry Hall along with a gaggle of young American guys who competed to be chosen as her *kept* man. In the process of elimination Jerry relied on expanded tete a tetes with several of her best girlfriends, among them Suzanne Wyman and Rachel Fuller, to help her decide just which man was worthy of winning the title. One show featured Jerry performing *Around This table*, by now a familiar title from Rachel's Cigarettes & Housework CD, to us RF fans. She was accompanied by Rachel and Pete. Their performance blew me away. Of course, I'd *known* Pete from my high school years. *Who* then didn't rock to the first rock opera, *Tommy*, from *Behind Blue (or otherwise) Eyes*?? But Rachel I'd never heard perform, and was just so taken by her piano performance, and especially her voice, I was positive she must have a CD. Out there. Somewhere. She did!

At that time I was posting to the VH1 Kept message boards and posted my thoughts about Rachel there. Others commented and before long Rachel herself appeared in my thread. To make a longer story short, she offered to send me her CD. I was rather skeptical it was truly her, and didn't want to post my snail mail address publically at the VH1 board, so I invited her to this blog to exchange information as to how I might contact her and send my mail/email addy to her privately. Lo and behold, it truly was Rachel that was speaking to me. She made her blog to post here (Black Velvet Lace: July 2005 , Blogger: Post a Comment) and a little while later began posting to her blog regularly. I contacted her through Eelpie and received her autograph and CD. The rest as they say is history.... and now you know the rest of my story...

Please tell me yours!

I'm back

2006-06-11T23:49:00.000-05:00

I cannot sleep. My eyeballs itch too much. I came back to post something I'd thought of. And now I've forgotten what it was.

This is not good. And what will be worse is that I will go back to bed and THEN remember what it was I wanted to say.

::Sighs::

Goodnight.

Again.

Allergies

2006-06-11T23:28:00.000-05:00

When am I ever going to learn that I cannot play with my hair, after spiking it with hot pink setting gel, and then rub my eyes???

::Gropes her itching eyed way to bed:::

And Speaking of Sisters...

2006-06-11T23:18:00.000-05:00

... I've another one, *Aunt Ajan*, (she's the one who ratted on the first) who loves Aerosmith. She too once edged her way to the front of a stage, this one at an outdoor Aerosmith concert, in order to get an upfrontandpersonal kinda view. As it so turned out, there were many fans who pressed their way to the front, anxiously waiting for the band to appear. More than a few of them, having imbibed a lil too much, were removed backstage to a *medic tent* to *recover*. Despite the early hour, things were apparently not going so well in the medic tent; a bouncer appeared and announced the need for aid from any medical personnel in the audience. My sister's friend immediately announced, "I am a nurse!" She was. So the bouncer plucked her out of the crowd like a flower and proceeded to bring her backstage. My sister, realizing a golden opportunity was about to slip away, immediately announced, "I am a paramedic!" She was not. But the bouncer lifted her onto the stage to bring her backstage as well. A third accompanying friend, realizing she was about to be left alone amidst a sea of strangers, simply screamed, "Hey! I'm with them!!" And so the bouncer lifted her up onto the stage to bring her along with the nurse and the liar.

Backstage the trio wandered, under a tent littered with cots upon which imbibers moaned and languished, looking for the band. As the nurse feigned interest over the ill, the other two were eyeing all entrance roads in hopes of catching a glimpse of Tyler, or perhaps Perry. Or even a guitar string. When a staffer slowly passed my sister, turning to glance back at her out of the corner of his eye, Aunt Ajan quickly grabbed a medical chart sitting on the bottom of a cot and fumbled with it, mumbling something to the nurse about vital signs. Just as she was about to look legit, a big bus with covered windows pulled up behind the makeshift hospice. Flinging the chart, Aunt Ajan pointed and screamed, "There they are! There they are!!". The medical personnel all looked up. The staffers all looked up. The imbibers still conscious all looked up. And the aforementioned staffer, who had circled back around to linger a bit, looked up and then nonchalantly asked, "You're not a medic... are you?"

With shoudlers sagging, and nary a glimpse of the boys in the bus with the covered windows, my sister found herself escorted, with her friends, to the very back of the teeming crowd. And instead of a stage edge view, she was relegated to squinting at antlike figures, listening from afar. As she tells the story, it was a day of *almost* magic. The day she *almost* met Steve Tyler. Perhaps Aunt Ajan would have fared better if I'd drawn a portrait of Aerosmith instead of good ol' JT. But you know, I'll make no apologies, I'm really much more of a JT kinda girl. :)

The Last to Know

2006-06-11T21:33:00.000-05:00

Do you know many years ago I drew a portrait of James Taylor, that my sister stole from me? Not only did I JUST FIND OUT where it actually went to, but I also JUST FOUND OUT she brought it to a JT concert and, having edged her way to the front of the stage, waved it like a flag to him as he was singing. (This was after she stole someone's empty front seat). Anyway, *Legend* has it Sweet Baby James gave her a nod, a thumbs up, and he then PROCEEDED TO AUTOGRAPH THE PORTRAIT. I FOUND ALL OF THIS OUT from another sister who prolly stole something else I haven't missed yet.

When I asked *Kia*, "How come you didn't tell me this great news?", she replied, "Because.. I was afraid you'd make me give it back!"

Sisters. Who else could get away with such atrocities?????

Rachel's Other Half

2006-06-06T15:36:00.000-05:00

Pete Townshend has reopened his blog, *The Boy Who Heard Music*, in his words, "..to provide a direct line for people who want to give me feedback on the various projects I am working on in the coming year."

I have been amazed at the accessibility of this man *who* is known the world over for his musical genius as well as his literary talent. While he has never commented on my blog, he has commented directly to some of his fans on theirs. I would say, in this day and age, that is pretty kewl. Those interested to stop by and comment to Pete can click the link below. Tell 'em *Lace* sent ya! :)~

The Boy Who Heard Music

'Nuther Thank You to Rachel!

2006-04-25T22:00:00.000-05:00

Awhile back you may recall me talking about receiving an autograph from Rachel Fuller upon which my husband accidentially wrote a phone number!! ::thwaps Bob:: Well I'm shouting out a huge thank you, as today sitting down to dinner I opened my mail to find that she'd sent me another, this time accompanied by her picture.

Once again, thanks Rachel!!! You're gorgeous AND a sweetie!!

The Groove Traveled to My House..

2006-04-23T20:54:00.000-05:00

.. from Syracuse and hand delivered his brand new CD just last night!

Having spent the end of the week as a professional clinician, coaching musicians at the All County Jazz Festival in Mexico NY, Lane crashed with us Saturday night, cracking jokes and laying down a few vocal tracks, before heading home to Lancaster. Thanx Lane!! I have to honestly say the CD is.. awesome. Anyone who'd like to order a copy can find it on his website:

Lane Stowe - Vocalist - Horn Player - Bass Player

And while you're there, be sure to take a listen to *Flight of the Bondage Penguin*.

Have Groove Will Travel

2006-04-17T19:18:00.000-05:00

And speaking of talented (in this case ex) locals, I am eagerly awaiting the soon to be released "Have Groove Will Travel" CD from Lane Stowe.

Lane played the local circuit while he was in town, but hails from upstate New York. Supremely versatile, he is accomplished in jazz, R&B, Rock and Roll, funk and gospel. Having studied jazz guitar with Steve Brown (Jazz) and vocals with David Riley (New York Voices), Lane's worked with a gamut of talent, including Lew Tabackin, Marvin Stamm, Tony Levin, Jack DeJohnette, Bernard Purdie, Chris Vadala, Steve Gilmore, Gus Mancini, Pat Cerello, Tom Hamilton, Ed Alstrom, Freddie Hendrix, Jan Stevens and Rick Altman.

Lane, if you're reading this, when the CD is out, will you let us know where to purchase a copy!??!! And for those inclined, drop by his blog and wave hello: Lane's Place

Double Take's New Lineup

2006-03-26T21:10:00.000-05:00

John Lewis tells me Double Take has added 3 newcomers to their lineup; Tom Nourse on keyboards (excellent choice boyfriend), Ken Miller on drums and 'The Bear' on lead vocals. Best of luck to ya'll..

Catch them at Double Take's New Flash Enabled Home

You're Beautiful

2006-03-14T19:12:00.000-05:00

You're beautiful. You're beautiful.

You're beautiful, it's true.

I saw you face in a crowded place,

And I don't know what to do,

'Cause I'll never be

with you.

Can you tell me what woman wouldn't be captured by the scenario painted in James Blunt's new song, You're Beautiful.

I saw him on Oprah the other day and was enchanted. Between the stark simplicity of the words, and the tune stripped down on acoustic guitar with piano backing, to the self-effacing author, I wondered who the muse was, and why she had broken his heart. He mentioned only briefly that she was once his, and is no longer. Whatever did or did not happen between them, the song leaves a haunting trace of her on him. It's surely worth a listen.

Amazon.com: Back to Bedlam: Music: James Blunt

Check.. One Two.. Check

2006-02-24T01:37:00.000-05:00

Nope not checking the mics, checking the BLOG! Anyone else having problems seeing their February posts??

Favorite New Blog

2006-02-14T14:11:00.000-05:00

A friend ::waves to Patti:: sent me the link to a blog about the TV show *The Office*. Now,The Office you see, is broadcast in my hometown area; indeed I lived in Scranton for several years, played the greater Scranton-wilkes Barre area, and having relocated back from NJ, still live nearby. I love the area, altho there are those who don't ::waves to Debdeb::.

So here's to finding my new fav blog to visit, and quite likely my next new fav show to watch (now that Kept is over!). Now that I know, I will be scouting for references to our fair city- see you at *the Office*.

Life In The Office » Scranton Insider

Dreeeeam..

2006-01-12T22:38:00.000-05:00

...dream dream dreeeeam.. dreeeeeeeeeam dream dream dreeeeam..

Justin Kreutzman talks about his dad (drummer for the Grateful Dead) banging on a drum at 14, getting to live out his dream, and I was thinking of how lucky I have been to also have had the chance to live out mine. Life is so short and you don't even realize it until you move closer to it's end. How many of you live your dream? How many of you are running out of time to give it a try? Don't wait. Justin didn't. He reached for the star and is producing a film for Paramount as a result.

http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=16840008&postID=113618014761178171
(Click *show original post* at the top of the page to read what Justin has to say about dreeeamin')

Happy New Year!

2006-01-03T16:46:00.000-05:00

I mostly missed New Years Eve last year. I also entirely missed Christmas Eve and Christmas day. Being ill can do that to a person. But I find I am slowly on the mend, tho not yet back to work. I did have the stamina to attend a New Years Eve house party this year, which may be the beginning of a new *era*. May it be so!

The party's hostess, who has a karaoke machine, called to ask if she could borrow my mics, as the mic that came with her machine just *wasn't going to cut it*. (Does *any* karaoke mic *cut it*??) After a few questions about inputs, jacks and outputs I told her I'd do her one better. I'd bring my smaller PA system and run her karaoke machine thru it, enabling her to *borrow my mics* along with my Peavey speaker. I also offered to bring my minidisks, complete with my synth programming, to add to her songlist, and so she then pleaded that I *run the show*. Never having fashioned myself as the DJ type, and having no clue whether I'd remain conscious until 9 pm nevermind midnight, I therefore pleaded with my friend Deb to join me as a *DJ/Karaoke hostess*. The result? A Shurely wild time ensued! If there were no gravity I fear they would have been dancing on the ceiling. Strains of Brick House and Benny and the Jets still ring in my ears. I never had so much fun. Well except for playing live gigs with great friends, or the time Jonny Dark asked me to help DJ that one 6th grade dance, but I digress. If you asked me on Dec 31st if I liked karaoke I'd have smiled politely and half-nodded, mentally wondering about your ethics and/or taste (or lack thereof). As of Jan 2, having watched people enjoy themselves so thoroughly (this was a Christian crowd mind you, no alcohol) howling the words to everything from Patsy Cline to Bachman Turner Overdrive, I have to admit, I now love it. I guess one could say, I'm now a believer.

Yes.. I'm a believer.. I couldn't leave her... if I tried... cuz I saw her face.....

But Then...

2005-11-19T19:59:00.000-05:00

..there's MATH!! http://www.okcupid.com/tests/take

Your brain: 100% interpersonal, 120% visual, 140% verbal, and 40% mathematical!

Congratulations on being 400% smart! Actually, on my test, everyone is. The above score breaks down what kind of thinking you most enjoy doing. A score above 100% means you use that kind of thinking more than average, and a score below 100% means you use it less. It says nothing about how good you are at any one, just how interested you are in each, relatively. A substantial difference in scores between two people means, conclusively, that they are different kinds of thinkers.

Matching Summary: Each of us has different tastes. Still, I offer the following advice, which I think is obvious:

Don't date someone if your interpersonal percentages differ by more than 80%.
Don't be friends with someone if your verbal percentages differ by more than 100%.
Don't have sex with someone if their math percentage is over 200%.

My test tracked 4 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender:

You scored higher than 64% on interpersonal

You scored higher than 55% on visual

You scored higher than 85% on verbal

You scored higher than 8% on mathematical

If you liked my test, send it to your friends!
The 4-Variable IQ Test
http://www.okcupid.com/tests/take?testid=15273633770079357960

And Speaking of Genius...

2005-11-19T18:51:00.000-05:00

I em a English genius akkording to http://www.okcupid.com/tests/take :P

English Genius
You scored 100% Beginner, 100% Intermediate, 100% Advanced, and 80% Expert!

You did so extremely well, even I can't find a word to describe your excellence! You have the uncommon intelligence necessary to understand things that most people don't. You have an extensive vocabulary, and you're not afraid to use it properly! Way to go!

Thank you so much for taking my test. I hope you enjoyed it!

For the complete Answer Key, visit my blog: http://shortredhead78.blogspot.com/.

My test tracked 4 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender:

You scored higher than 54% on Beginner
You scored higher than 37% on Intermediate
You scored higher than 59% on Advanced
You scored higher than 38% on Expert

If you liked my test, send it to your friends!

The Commonly Confused Words Test
http://www.okcupid.com/tests/take?testid=14457200288064322170

Musical GENEius

2005-10-30T09:23:00.000-05:00

Is musical talent contained in the genes? My opinion is that there is something innate in artists and musicians that drives them towards creating their art. That perhaps they also possess an ability for aesthetic feelings that some do not.

I recall closing my eyes and listening to the music/harmonies one practice long ago. The feeling that ascended was my own soul floating, suddenly lifted, weightless, as chills rose up my spine. Some people look for that kind of feeling via the use of drugs and alcohol, so said my partner at the time. Musicians and artists obtain them as a natural high, IMO.

I believe that the ability to produce music is in the blood, intricately linked to something internal, God given, and passed from one generation to the next. Is my hypothesis correct? I've no idea. Some say *yah*.. others say *nay*.

Journalism: Psychologists and geneticists disagree on the origins of musical talent

BBC News HEALTH Genetic clues to musical ability

What say you?

The Boy Who Heard Music

2005-10-18T22:33:00.000-05:00

For those who do not know, Pete Townsend is writing a serialization of his novella, The Boy Who Heard Music, on his blog. Visitors are invited to comment to him there. The novella began September 24th and will run for 23 episodes. For those interested be sure to visit:

http://boywhoheardmusic.blogspot.com/ or click on the title of this blog entry (it's a link!).

Just Plain Shocked

2005-08-31T20:57:00.000-05:00

Watching the devastation of hurricane Katrina for the past 2 days, that's about all I am. Just plain shocked.

I lived through hurricane Agnes and recall the ominous feeling just before the sky opened up and flooded the Wyoming Valley of Pennsylvania in the summer of 1972. Our immediate area was spared (thank you God) but the entire valley flooded; a friend of mine left the second floor of the Hotel Casey in downtown Wilkes-Barre by boat. Moving to college that Fall, I drove through areas that had been ravaged by flood waters. Many of the imcoming freshmen lived in the valley area and so late at night we listened to horror stories quite different from those usually told by candlelight in girls dorms at midnight. Bodies rising from their graves on flood waters to hang on the top of the black wrought iron fence surrounding the cemetery. One more a skeleton in her wedding dress. Horrible.

Seeing the pictures of Lousianna and Mississippi I want to either rush there and take home victims with no where to sleep tonight, or blink twice to find out it's all just a terrible dream.

Shock & Awe

2005-08-23T23:00:00.000-05:00

My cousin John wrote today in shock and awe that I have corresponded with Rachel Fuller. Not only because she is *the* up and coming talent, but also because she is Pete Townsend's girlfriend. Being an avid music lover as well as an old Who fan, I suspect he is jealous, as Rachel has invited me to attend her shows as a VIP.

What makes a VIP a VIP? Who they know? What they do? Where they go? What they own, wear, say? No. I think it's really deeper than any of those things. I think a VIP is VIP because of what they mean to someone. Their connection. I suspect I am a VIP to Rachel because I found her music and supported her in a place that was sometimes hostile. Not because of anything she did wrong, or for lack of talent, but because of the limitations of some of the critics. When I was flamed for my support, I shrugged and said, "To me, she is great." She is a VIP to me because I love music and her songs touch me. And also because she is willing to show her humanness, her vulnerable side with humor and candor.

John is a VIP to me because we share a whole lifetime of memories. We are family. Each the oldest of a tumble of siblings. My earliest memories include him, running 'round a green station wagon in Grandma's backyard, me with a pail and he with it's shovel. Summer days of Robin Hood and Maids Marion (his sister Kathleen, another VIP, a bit younger than both of us, was Maid Marion 2.. heh). So dashing he was, as he lept over the porch railing with an apron tied backwards around his neck for a cape. Orange leaves fell as we played Roy Rogers and Dale Evans 1 and Dale Evans 2. Combat. How many *Krouts* we killed with imaginary rifles. How many outfits we grass-stained, crawling on our bellies to sneak up on said *Krouts*. How many times did Grandma and Macky (her sister) drag us in from the yard, covered in culm dust from climbing over banks of exhausted coal beside the old breaker with the missing windows. How many will know he and I even existed on this earth 200 years from now? Probably none. But that doesn't matter. Because when someone is your VIP, they may be either famous and known, like Rachel, or famously loved and unknown, like John.

I guess a VIP is really mostly just a very important person who has left their mark on your heart.

Family Picnic

2005-08-21T22:09:00.000-05:00

That's what we had today. A family picnic. At my house. 3 of 4 sisters arrived. Parents arrived. 9 nieces and nephews arrived. (Not in that order). They trashed my house. Husband, now 15 days off cigarettes, is still shaking. I have gotten used to kids crawling all over everything I own. Actually with 4 sisters, (being the oldest), I was always used to kids crawling over everything I own.

The musical selections of the day. We listened to Rachel Fuller, she got a big thumbs up. We listened to James Taylor, he also got a big thumbs up. We listened to Sade, she got a big thumbs up. We listened to something celtic. We are Irish, everything celtic gets a big thumbs up. They left at 8 pm. As they pulled away from the house, one of the kids tossed a plastic hand grenade out the van window back into the driveway. No he is not a terrorist in training. The plastic grenade is mine.

Playing By Ear

2005-08-18T23:23:00.000-05:00

I think every musician I have ever played out with, plays by ear. I took classical piano as a child and was once a district winner in the piano teachers guild. But I'd have rather stuck needles in my eyes than play by note. Some of my bandmates could read music. But no one ever did. Myself included. What's with that?

A Heartfelt Thank You

2005-08-16T11:39:00.000-05:00

Goes out to Rachel Fuller, musician/vocalist/composer.

You may recognize her name from the Vh1 reality series *Kept*. You may recognize it from my blog entry below. You may recognize her name from her contribution, Wonderful, on the Soundtrack of the movie Shall We Dance? Or you may recognize it due to the recent release of her new CD, Cigarettes & Housework. In any case, if you do not recognize it yet, I am betting sometime in the near future.. you will. Rachel has written/performed a beautiful collection of songs and graciously sent me a copy of her UK release, which includes Jerry Hall performing on Around This Table.

eelpie.com - downloads

You can find the US release, available from Amazon, by clicking on the title link of this blog entry.

Thank you Rachel, for the gift of your CD, and say *hi* to Jerry from this Kept fan. I wish the very best of luck to you both!

Went to a Garden Party..

2005-08-13T09:24:00.000-05:00

.. last night. Several friends were there. The night was warm, the breeze picked up just enough to cool off the day. Lights from across the lake glistened right up to the shoreline we sat by. Someone picked up a guitar and started playing. Everything. Well, everything from my genre anyway. Eagles. Stones. Beatles. Classic stuff. He was great, but I can't talk him into doing a trio. I guess it's his need for anonymity since he's by trade a psychoanalytic psychiatrist. He did play through medical school and residency, very well I might add, but I just can't get him to budge now. Perhaps we could play in *costume*. Hey, don't laff. Look at KISS. Ok, well, laff I guess. ::Giggles::

Behind the Mics

2005-08-09T01:23:00.000-05:00

Behind the mics is a whole different world. Maybe it's the lights, carving out colored spaces no one else is allowed to enter. Soft yellow, red, blue in the surrounding darkness. Maybe it's the line of mic stands, like soldiers standing guard, separating you from those who've come to see you. Or maybe it's the unseen line of sound waves that leave you in their empty rush out and away. Whatever it is, if you've stood back behind them, you know exactly what I mean. Behind the mics. Your own little whole different world.

All We Are Saying...

2005-07-26T16:40:00.000-05:00

... is Give Peace a Chance [US] - Give Peace A Chance

Given former Beatle John Lennon's penchant for peace, I wonder if he ever saw the irony in his failure to make full amends with Paul McCartney....

I Can Only Imagine

2005-07-23T21:30:00.000-05:00

It totally took me by surprise the day I walked into a waiting room and recognized the song, I Can Only Imagine by Mercy Me, playing on the radio. It wasn't the music itself that actually surprised me. It wasn't the arrangement of the song, or it's title, it's up-till-then relative obscurity outside of certain circles, or even it's line up. Although Mercy Me is a Christian rock band, there have been others that had crossed over into popular secular music, Amy Grant or Sixpence None the Richer, for example. So it wasn't that another Christian band had somehow snuck, sans religiosity, squarely into the secular scene. No, what gave me the biggest shock wave was that this song is utterly, blatantly Christian. It plainly names Jesus, no doubt about it. In this age of tolerance, where the only intolerance that seems to be tolerated is the disparaging of Christians, the last thing I would ever have expected was for His Name to be gracing the secular airwaves. Clearly. Unmistakeably. Whoa.

As I closed the waiting room door and shuffled past 2 kids playing on the floor, I gathered my purse and sat, thoroughly enjoying and half musing about what I was hearing. Interspersed about the doctor's office were several others reading magazines or simply staring nervously off into space waiting for their time to disappear into the medical inner sanctum. No one but me seemed to be aware that the Name above all names was embedded right in the middle of the lyrics of a song playing softly from the mysterious recesses of wherever sound systems lie hidden in offices of that kind. And no one was rushing to turn it off lest it's Protagonist suddenly offend some or all of those present (but me). My musings carried me past the song itself to thoughts of a world beyond where Christ reigns supreme. When it suddenly occured to me. There is no need for doctors in heaven.

Rather elemental, but I think I blinked twice at the thought, which expanded into the next. Not only is there no present need for doctors beyond the pearly gates, once Jesus returns to reestablish the Kingdom on earth, there won't be a future need for them, or for lawyers either. Or psychiatrists/psychologists. Not nurses, paramedics, veterinarians, not pharmacists. In a new-earthly perfection, where there is no sickness or death, no sorrow, no pain, the need for the most respected and revered professions on the planet will simply be, extinct. And by an odd twist of fate, some of the lowliest of professions will be those that abound. I guess that means that the starving artists, poets and writers, craftsmen and jewel setters can all take heart that they'll *still have a job*.

And musicians. Will we not be among the luckiest of all? I can only imagine.

For those interested- Mercy Me:
http://www.christianitytoday.com/music/artists/mercyme.html

Bloggin'

2005-07-22T00:35:00.000-05:00

Friends are asking me, "What's a blog"? And I have to admit, I don't actually know. It is a website? Or is it a message board?

Kind of reminds me of that old Saturday Night Live Skit with Dan Aykroyd and Gilda Radner. Dan was sitting at the kitchen table squirting whipped cream from a can onto his butterscotch pudding. Gilda came in with a mop, took the can and squirted it's contents all over the floor. An argument ensued that went something like this:

Gilda: New Shimmer is a floor wax!

Dan: No, new Shimmer is a dessert topping!

Gilda: It's a floor wax!

Dan: It's a dessert topping!

Gilda: It's a floor wax, I'm telling you!

Dan: It's a dessert topping, you cow!

As they wrestle with the can, Chevy Chase rushes in and declares, "Hey, hey, hey, calm down, you two. New Shimmer is both a floor wax and a dessert topping!"

((Ah, I long for the days when SNL was actually sidesplitting funny!))
So anyway.. what say you all? Is a blog a website.. or.. message board??

Trivia

2005-07-12T18:34:00.000-05:00

We all remember the couple wrapped in a quilt that graced the cover of the Woodstock* (1969) album. But who knows their names?

(For the answer, click on *comments* just below in this posting, the answer will appear in the popup box). *Important Disclaimer: The author was not actually at Woodstock. Her mother wouldn't let her go.

Antigone Rising

2005-07-11T10:35:00.000-05:00

::Having lost all decorum in that last posting, smoothes skirt and manners and straightens up and flies rite. Clears throat::

OK. Who has not heard the CD by this up and coming band? I have to tell you, had that fabulously wealthy (and forever unnamed) producer back in the 80s offered me this kind of talented/serious line up (as opposed to a carbon copy of the GoGos in their underware on the cover of Rolling Stone) maybe I'd have taken him up on the offer...

Take a listen to this: Amazon.com: Music: From the Ground up

Other Birdz

2005-07-10T14:27:00.000-05:00

And previously speaking of birdz, I'd like to wave at a few others I've played with over the years.

::Waves at:: Jimmy, it took 5 years of begging to get you hired and I left in 2. Where was my brain? Oh yeah, fried from getting sick and then I couldn't play, I forgot. In any case, you are the best. And you have our drummer, lil (Mom-my-bus-driver-is-in-the-band-with-us!) Jim, coming right up behind you. Keep on rockin' and take care of Nancy ::smiles::

::Waves at:: Bill. Hi Bill. Did you think I didn't know you were chomping at the bit for me to quit, Bill?

::Waves at::: Rich, I love ya Elvis. We really wowed em at Arthur's didn't we? Well, at least we wowed the enigmatic Arthur. He said so. Through the bartender. We never did actually see Arthur though, did we? (Maybe he's related to John Forsythe AKA *Charlie*). Do you think Arthur actually exists? Me either. I'm just glad somebody paid us. Hey, quick- who am I- *Do you guys play anything good*? Really loved your deadpan- *NO*. ::snickers:: Call me, n' say hi to Sue, heck have Sue call me too. PS- Tag, you're it.

::Waves at:: Dianni. My Dianni, where u b rite now Girlfriend? I cannot keep up with your travel plans! Never let it be said that one cannot fit a keyboard, a guitar, 3 mic stands, 2 potted plants, 1 ficus tree, 1 rolled up persian rug, and a silver candelabra into the trunk of your car. We could've decked Liberace out for that gig, but honey tell me, where did we hang our clothes? We did not hang them out the window. Hey, say hi to Cheem for me.

::Waves at:: M&M= Maura and Michelle. Still sorry the 4 girl *Sweet Eve* thing didn't work out. We were all so *enchanting* ::grin:: 'Twas a pleasure singing with you both, and Michelle, give your soundman/brother a pinch on the cheek for me willya? He's such a sweetie.

::Waves at:: DebDeb. Hey Girlfriend, what will it take to get you to stick around for more than one gig a century? ::Begins to wonder if that Journey song was prophetic.. ~if you just.. stay.. with me awhile~:: Yeah, I know you totally rocked the crowd in the Central gym ::giggles:: but the world has never heard your Ann Wilson. (Well, except for my parent's next door neighbor, but he wasn't too happy with the volume level at 1 am). This is totally a sin. I'm going to have to tell pastor Mark. Unless... that would mean he would actually have to learn about this blog. ::As if he'd care:: :)~

::Waves at:: Boyfriend Johnboy Lewis, if auditioning and/or just jamming around in the basement counts as *playing together*. Who am I kidding? I can't jam. I don't know enough blues chords to jam. I don't know any blues chords at all. I can sing tho, can't I!?! ::hopeful look:: Such a shame that we didn't get to do that *Sonny and Cher* thing with Rich and DebDeb isn't it? Maybe some other time... NOT!

::Waves at:: Ronnie, another auditioning/jamming kind of guy. How many times did we try? No, it couldn't have been a zillion. Could it? OK. It was 2. But both times were fun. For me anyway. Love your new website. Hey! I'll post it here~> Double Take . I'll put it in my *links* too. You and Boyfriend JL sound great. Not to mention Scooter and Steve. We'll come to see you soon.

::Waves at:: Phil. You are missing in action, Phil. Whatever possessed you to give up playing covers in back alley bars for the sumptuous life of an successful insurance broker?? Do you realize all the money we could have made? ::totally serious face:: First time I saw you I was in curlers, last time I saw you we were at Wellers. Hope to see you somewhere again someday.

::Waves at:: Kurt, yah, another sellout to the financial industry. This one I clearly understand however, since the last time we shared a stage, Jonny Dark flicked a lit cigarette off the back of your head for playing the wrong chord. Did you even feel that? Lucky it didn't turn into a Michael Jackson hair-on-fire sort of incident. In any case, whatever possessed you to ever play with that guy anyway? ::Probably the same thing that possessed her to ever play with that guy anyway:: hehehe

::Waves at:: Aforementioned Jonathan Dark. A real *Wise Guy*. Har har. Ok. I know you're mad at me. Again. As usual. I quickly discerned this the day you stopped speaking to me, what, 5 years ago? (Don't forget, I have intense training that enables me to notice such things). But c'mon now. This is getting ridiculous. The longest time I ceased talking to you was, what, only a year. Besides, it wasn't me who left the power head in Karl's basement the night of the Candlelite Inn gig! Ok. Be like that. And next time you have a dental crisis, don't think you can send me out for the superglue!

::Waves at::: Chris, I haven't had a Cranky Boyz phone call from you in AGES. You haven't stopped talking to me like your neighbor, have you? You and Butch still playing? Call me and let me know. Use your real voice tho, otherwise I'm just hangin' up. :)~

::Waves at:: Gene, I know, I know, you told me not to play with Jonny Dark. Did I listen? NOOOOOO. But neither did Kurt. Neither did Phil/Karl/Kevin/Mike/Bill/YOU for that matter. You know he's the one we all hate to love and love to hate. I still can't believe he sold the acoustic Matisko you built for him. Dork. When you playin' round here again? Call me and let me know. I'll call Jimmy and Nancy. We'll come see you. PS- I still have to bring you my Takemine. The pickup. It's broke. :(

::Waves at:: Kevin! The cleverest bra unhooker I ever met! (Even if he is the complete gentleman and it was a total accident). Still drumming? Hey. Weren't you the Vice Prezident for Dark Horse? Yah, I think. And Mike was the Secretary, Karl the Treasurer and Jon the Prez (of course). I thought it was all so unfair, after all, where did that leave me? I know, I know, I was allowed to be the *Princess*, but that was only after I twisted Dark's arm almost off. BTW, were you the one that forgot to bring the power head to the Candlelite Inn gig?

::Waves at:: Mike, I still have your mic. I'm not giving it back tho. Jon told me you still owe him for it. That technically makes it his, and since he's not talkin' to me, I guess it's mine now! MUAHAHAHA. I hear you have a light show you're renting out. Is it the same one you brought when we opened for Dakota? Hey, did you ever tell Jon you and I broke the *unwritten rule of bands* and were secretly dating that summer of Dark Horse? Well DON'T, he's mad enough at me now.

::Waves at:: Karl, again. :::Already embarrassed him in a lower thread so won't say nuthin' more. It's not like he'll ever know tho, he doesn't have internet access. The more she thinks of it, begins to actually suspect that he was the one that left the power head in his own basement that night of the Candlelite Inn gig. Could it have been on purpose? Nah, he wouldn't. Won't ask now after all this time tho, becuz, he's famous for cryin' out loud:::

If there is anyone I forgot I apologize. Yah rite. You're probably thankful and hopin' I never remember to name you. Don't count on it, they say long-term memory is the last to go!

Addendum 2/06: News alert, saw Jonny Dark last week and he speaks!

Rachel Fuller

2005-07-08T16:50:00.000-05:00

I've no clue why, but I am captivated by the VH1 reality show *Kept*. This is quite odd because if you knew me, you'd know I literally never watch TV. Never. Be that as it may, on the show several *younger men* are vying to become *older woman* Jerry Hall's (model/Mick Jagger's ex-wife) *kept man*. The winner receives (I believe) a year cavorting about as Jerry's escort, accompanying her to celebrity parties/social events, along with a hefty amount of cash. Listed as a competitive reality show, week after week contenders are put through Jerry's paces and one-by-one eliminated. Perhaps it's falling into her *Mrs Robinson* age bracket that has me hooked, or maybe it's the fascination of watching men 1/2 her age swim the Thames and attempt to throw dinner parties to win her attentions. In any case, the show's a hoot.

http://www.vh1.com/shows/dyn/kept/series.jhtml

Part of what makes the watch so interesting is that Jerry's band of friends are helping her to chose the final lucky bloke (how British of me :P). In the last episode one of them, a Rachel Fuller, performed a live stint at what looked like a London pub's open mic. Rachel is reported to be Pete Townsend's (The Who) partner. I'd never heard of her before and listening to her performance at the pub, was impressed by her vocals. Comparable to Sarah Mclaughlin or Tori Amos, I consequently scouted down her debut CD. I liked it. I liked it alot. A classically trained musician, Fuller's works have been recorded by the London Chamber Orchestra. She is also credited with the arrangements on Townsend's Lifehouse project. Needless to say, her arrangements are lush and her vocals sweetly ethereal. If you're interested, treat yourself to a listen.

Barnes & Noble.com Music - Cigarettes & Housework

Birdz of a Feather...

2005-07-07T22:49:00.000-05:00

.. flock together. Considering the gaggle of old bandmates I've hung with over the last 20 years, I can attest that this maxim is not altogether true. How else do you explain the likes of me having once shared a stage with the likes of Karl Logan (Manowar)? I mean, c'mon the guy's not only wildly talented, he's well loved/well known on the European heavy metal scene; I am still fingerpicking an unplugged version of Landslide at the corner cafe. He's an atheist; I'm a Christian. Manowar is in Guinness for breaking the sound barrier; I wear ear plugs to coffee house open mikes for cryin' out loud. Fame and fortune was his dream; it was never mine.

Despite the differences, when music is the tie that binds, it doesn't seem to matter much tho, does it? Just look at the kidz that spent the weekend. Music allowed us to speak the same language. As for Karl, I could still pick up the phone to say *hey*. So then, maybe for musicians it's really *viva la difference*. Nah, I like the bird reference better, but if I'm a nightingale, given that Karl's hair is longer and prettier than mine, would that make him.. a peacock?

http://www.manowar.com/news.php

Attack of the Nerds

2005-07-07T21:56:00.000-05:00

After all this time, I thought I was a nerd. With a *nerd score* of 4, I am apparently not. :::having spent obscenely inordinate amounts of time on the internet, scratches head.. wondering how this is possible:::

http://www.nerdtests.com/ft_nq.php

Cover Me

2005-07-07T15:58:00.000-05:00

Yep, that's what we were always best at, covering other people's music. I love Ann Wilson. I can't touch her, but my co-patriot Deb can. Too bad she never stuck around long enough for any audience to hear that. Meanwhile, I am Nancy. Hangin' in the background, playing the keyboards or acoustic guitar. Reveling in the harmonies, belting a solid alto (thank heaven for Stevie Nicks). I always loved to watch the boys tinker with the lights or the sound system. Comes in a close second to loving just watching the boys. Ann Wilson. What a vocal. Hey... wasn't it Nancy that snagged them their only number one hit?

Kidz

2005-07-06T21:38:00.000-05:00

That's who spent the weekend at my house, 5 kidz. An assortment of niece, nephew and accompanying friends. They carried with them all the essentials. A hairdryer, kohl eyeliner, 2 packs of Twizzlers, 3 lil bags of mac and cheese, a box of Lucky Charms, 1 apple, the crap to make 100 s'mores, 1 iPod and 1000 CDs. In terms of the 5 teenage food groups I guess nuthin much has changed in 30 years. I figured the beloved musical genre certainly would have. Curious, I flipped through their collections. Holy shades of Bach and Beethoven batman, do you know who they are listening to?!? Frampton, Aerosmith, AC/DC, Zeppelin, Petty, James Taylor... the Eagles!! So to all you ex-hippies who have chrysalized (how DO you spull chrysalized?) into yuppies out there, I stand and applaud a job well done. And to all those born so late they've no clue what a 45 rpm vinyl even looks like, yer makin' me proud, yer makin' me proud.

Black Velvet.. if you please

2005-07-01T18:22:00.000-05:00

Black Velvet and Lace.. a rather interesting combination of fabrics, wouldn't you say? But the title isn't about fabric, it's about music, which is also what this blog is about. As a professional vocalist/musician (currently on haitus) for many more years than I care to comment (at least at this time) I had 2 signature songs. Black Velvet by Allanah Myles, and Leather & Lace by Stevie Nicks/Don Henley, hence BlackVelvetLace (somehow BlackVelvetLeather seemed like an oxymoron).

So friends/visitors/weary blogger travelers, this blog is all about the music, but then again, isn't it always all about the music? ::Smiles:::