gonna take my cares away....

Growing up, I knew exactly when spring had come to stay. My mama was our household meteorologist.

I knew it was officially spring when my mama went out on our back, screened in porch, unstacked the bamboo furniture and put the green and white floral cushions in their spots. These were the days I lived for- to come home after school, grab whatever textbook I needed to review, or the latest novel that I was engulfed in, curl up in the corner of the couch and be there until dinner was on the table.

During this time of year my friends knew that if the front screened door was on and locked, to walk around to the back- we lived on the porch. On the weekends, this porch was a late night entry. The screen door could be opened and shut slowly and the sliding door was a silent accomplice. Granted, I was one of those kids that was too scared to use these advantages, but I was well aware of my options.

My junior year proved to be the most trying of my high school years and along with a rooftop window, the back porch was a perfect escape. For one particular friendship, this porch, the breeze that danced through the screen, the music that played from the stereo in the kitchen or an old acoustic-- any memory on the porch was overthrown by the memories with that particular friend. Seeing Amos Lee up on stage last night, a blond Fender in his hand, singing about living over the rainbow- I was 17 and on my back porch again, with a boy that taught me how to smell the rain before it fell.

Amos Lee is a presence, he's a magnet. He makes eye contact, he pulls you in, he ingests you with his words, and the liquid voice that he uses to sing them. It's like you're the only person in the room and he's telling this story just to you.

His hands were smooth along the guitar neck. He danced with the mic-stand, untouched. "Violin" was a heart-wrenching call for love lost, the waiting game in a melody. "Arms of a woman" pushed too close to the line of a lullaby for a girl to take, when her boyfriend is out of arms length, while "Keep it loose, keep it tight" is a song that had the whole room singing along. He covered "Fat Bottom girl" to bring the mood up a ways, and his smile out-lit the stage lights.

Amos Lee is a breed of musician that is slowly finding their way out of the curtains, and into the center of the room. Along with the rock and rollers of Will Hoge, the Louisiana sultry voice of Marc Broussard, this level of connection is an almost indescribable --- I've done my best.

I advise you to buy the above mentioned songs- along with "Windows Are Rolled Down" and get your drive on.

Amos Lee has made for a great summer at the beach:)

"We all need a place where we can go and feel Over The Rainbow... sometimes we forget what we got, who we are, and who we are not. I think we got a chance to make it right..."

*photo from http://www.wvpubcast.org/blogs.aspx?id=8395&blogid=340

Quentin Fielding... live in Booton.

Boonton, New Jersey anyone? Yeah, thats what I thought... Seven and a half hours later, I'm just thawing out and would do it all over again in a second. What is it that I did? Oh ladies and gentleman you're in for a treat...

Africa contacted me about a week ago about a pianist he met who was playing in Jersey on a Friday night. I HAPPENED to have tonight off (a very rare occasion) so we decided to go for it.

Taking the 5:20 NJ Transit... An hour later we're on another track- possibly Broad Street? To board another train... to then get off in Boonton. Oh Dear Sweet Booton. It's about -20 out, we're walking up the steps to an abandoned building that I'm sure the Boogeyman lives in and is going to jump out and take me, because Africa is too skinny, with little meat to munch on. So I walk up the steps to the street quickly, ahead of Africa and WHAM!!! AIR RAID, REOREOREORREOEROEORE.... AFRICA!! They saw us coming and they are warning the civilians... I'm not kidding you. The moment we set foot on the sidewalk an insane siren goes of for about 45 seconds. We stand there, not sure what to make of this Atomic Bomb like alarm, waiting for an ambulance, a police car, a mini van, a person on a bicycle, ANYONE to show us this town has some life!!! No one. Not a soul.

We start to walk up towards the understood direction of the concert hall. It's about 7pm at this point, and the concert starts at 8pm. What to do... well there's Bob's Gifts and Doodads (not kidding) The Men's Shop (closed), Video Games and Such, Vicky's Vintage, The Second Hand shop, a used book shop. All closed, but quite charming. Then we see it. A store front with a good dozen people inside, eating and drinking wine! Done. We were sold.

We go in, we sit down, and we ask to see the wine list.

More specifically:

Waiter- "What would you like to drink?"

me- "Alcohol!"

Waiter- "We're actually a BYOB"

Africa- "Great, is there a liquor store nearby i can go to?"

Waiter- "Sure, if you go down the street, make a left after the bridge, I think there's one there."

"Right, so if I jumped in my car..."

Waiter- "Oh... well there might be one in walking distance, I can go ask someone."

Africa- "No it's ok. The town is about the size of my foot and we didn't walk past one on our way here, so I doubt it."

Thus we order food, barely eat half of it and head to the performance.

An old movie theater transformed into a concert all, the Darress Theatre is incredibly unique. The entryway is warm and cozy, even with a little fire going in the fireplace. You walk into the hall under the stage, at the front. The seats are seemingly original and very comfortable. The hall, in contrast, was FREEZING. And that was even after two glasses of red wine from the cocktail hour that we were stupidly late for. Did I mention they had WINE? and it was FREE?

The performance was incredible. Is that pathetic to use that word again? Quentin has a talent I've seen few times. He has a way of drawing you into a song by a constant pattern at the beginning, to then change it the moment you're starting to wonder if you'd heard those chords before. He moves with a grace that is second nature to a true composer, and his hands dance with every note. Captivated, I didn't clap until almost the end. I couldn't move. His movement entranced me.

Towards the end he played a song called "Save Us" that he wrote in high school that brought me to tears. I'm not kidding. This silly little teenage song brought so much to the surface for me. I remember my friends writing music in high school and the innocence behind their music is what was always and still is so intriguing. We were young as teenagers, having experienced little of the world in our small town, and yet these kids had written a whole other world upon their guitars and ivory keys. Quentin did this as well, accept he's still playing this song.

I believe that with every song a musician writes, and the longer they play, the more it grows, changes, becomes anew. Like us, music transforms with time. It begins to mean different things as the years begin to bring new challenges and new adventures. I could sense that with this song. And how differently he played it.

Seven and a half hours later, I'm sitting in bed, finally thawed out, in long underwear and Navy sweatpants, with "Save Us" on repeat. It's energy contains me. This is what music is about. This is why it is created. For us to travel to the end of the world (which is Boo-'in, New Jersey if you're from Manhattan), sit in an old theater with a plethora of small town, middle America-like townsfolk and fall in love with a young man's fingertips, and allow ourselves to forget about what lies outside the front doors, in the bigger scarier world. For just one night, even only for a couple of hours, we were in a place we didn't need saving from. We were safe, we were being entertained, but most of all we were captivated by the music that shot straight from this man's soul. I'd do it again if you asked. Just give me some time to warm up first:)

adieu, friends.

www.quentinfielding.com (photo courtesy of Quentin via facebook)

Trashy to Classy? still deciding...

I will derail a bit from my "show" blogging to a simple Saturday night with the girls (and my lovely Africa).

It was the one and only Ratface's 24th birthday (she has a real, fabulous name, but it's a lot more fun to call her this... might I add she has NOTHING that resembles a rat in her face, she's actually quite pretty, according to my friend Veit, and she has KILLER curves... the kicker? SHE'S SINGLE:) --- she is missing from the photo, just so you know--- she was in one of her disappearing acts.

the Keys and I were to meet her at a place in the Lower East Side called "boss tweeds". So ladies and gentlemen, at this time, I'd like for you to think about this name for a moment. Boss... Tweeds... As the Keys and I came upon this lovely dive, we were ok initially. We were greeted by the Ratface in all her curvy, tight NAVY dress wearing glory, and she'd definitely already taken advantage of the bottomless drink-wristband. We paid our $30 for a green accessory and 3 hours worth of drinks... as much as we could intake in the allotted time. Needless to say, we went to work.

As time moved on, our drinks were refilled, Africa showed up with CUPCAKES, and we took a solid seat at a table. The three of us (the Keys, Africa and I, as Ratface had disappeared sometime after we got there..) started to take a good look around at these tweed bosses, and we weren't too sure we liked what we saw. One gentleman in particular.

Let me set this guy up for you. White "Forbes" college baseball hat, on backwards. White collared shirt, tucked into Abercrombie and Fitch khaki shorts (yeah, we check the label on his butt), brown belt, fleece zip-up vest, and to TOP IT ALL OFF (or down) BOAT SHOES!!!! This kid was out in public, in the CITY OF NEW YORK with this outfit on. Now, for those of you reading this, and realizing you fit this profile, let us partake in a little chat, one that would be greatly appreciated by the Keys. I'll even start with her "word of the night".

POPULAR. This word should have left your vocabulary when you got your high school diploma. No one is popular in college. You might THINK you're popular because a lot of people showed up to your birthday party at that cool bar uptown, but it was only because it was an open bar tab on your daddy's credit card, and your little sister is hot... and was there with hot friends. No one is popular AFTER college. You might assume your popularity is legit because you have a lot of facebook friends... and people are constantly BBMing you, or g-chatting you while you're at your 60hr a week (paying you less than 40hr a week wages) job. But its probably because you have that AMAZING rent control your grandfather bought in the 60s and the rooftop is PERFECT for Saturday soirees. Not to mention all those Goldman Sachs and Morgan Stanley boys you know... and their GREAT shoes... No, my man, you're not popular. And wearing that little get-up to a dive bar in the LES, carrying around 2 beers, doesn't do a thing for you. Although, it did give us something to talk about.

This leads to the next question, and I'll simply answer it for you: Yes, there are mean girls beyond middle school, beyond high school, and beyond college, because the Keys and I were them on Saturday. Now I will defend myself and my friend in the fact that this guy was ridiculous. He was walking around like he owned the joint (which isn't something I wouldn't brag about considering the bathrooms were as nasty as a frat house on a Sunday morning).

To move forward- At one point, Ratface declared that a mechanical bull was in the works for the evening and that we should all go. Ratface then decided to disappear again.

After finishing our 4th? bottomless drink, and seeing too much plaid for my already pain-filled eyes, the Keys, Africa, and I decided to depart.

We meandered through the streets, making our way over to SoHo, and decided SubMercer was the destination. As we approached, a resounding "no" rang through our heads as the line of hipsters and "too cool for school" kids was out of control.

So, we took our cute little selves and went into the restaurant and through the backdoor. It's good to know people that are nice people:)

Talk about a smoke attack!!! We worked our way through the wine cellar and emerged into a ridiculous scene of skinny bitches and sexy men and realized just how ridiculous their use of the smoke machine was. I mean, People! I couldn't see the beer bottle in front of my face.

Again, we found ourselves on a comfortable seat observing the party-goers and attempting to figure out just what we were seeing. At one point, a lovely girl, about six feet tall and barely 100 lbs asked if she could set her drink on our table, and proceeded to take out her compact. the Keys and I stared in awe, as this lovely girl and her date seemed to have an identical headache or something of the sort, because they took what I assume was aspirin, that conveniently melted in their mouths quickly. Hope they felt better the next morning :)

I could go forward and tell you about the mistaken pass made to Africa and how the lovely gal then proceeded to introduce us to her boyfriend, and we had to bolt from the underground, but I'll save that for another day:)

All in all-- a good night. Maybe next time we'll keep the bottom on the drinks long enough for Ratface to join us in the cellar.

Until next time:)

another impromptu evening

Saturdays are normally a day of getting much accomplished. Yesterday was no different. When I finished with all my much needed errands, I came back to the apartment, climbed in bed and starting on the reading for next weeks classes. In the midst of intermarrying and hermaphrodite narratives, the Keys calls me and we plan dinner- at the one and only Freeman's.

Now the reason for including this part of my night out, is because nothing beats Freeman's.

Factoid one: we walked in at 7:30pm, told them two and immediately got seated. SCHWING!

Factoid two: artichoke dip. go. order it. understand.

Factoid three: FABULOUS decor and equally FABULOUS wait staff. you feel at home there.

As Keys and I dished about our pasts, our presents, our futures, and then did some self-congratulations, we realized I had yet to meet her boyfriend, Prince Orchid, in the flesh, and she had yet to meet my Africa. texts ensued and we then awaited the boys arrivals by the bar.

All went well. I love Prince Orchid. She loves Africa. They went their separate way and Africa and I headed to the Webster Hall!!

To remind some of you fair weather friends, I don't always know the bands I'm going to see. Last night, I fibbed and told Africa I totally had known "A MIllion Years" before I looked them up for this show. Blatant lie. I looked up Webster Hall's calendar, mySpaced a Million Years and decided they were worth a try.

When we entered, a very awkward staircase not meant for Barbara Bui inventions, the Studio was packed with an intense mixed crowd. a couch on my right had a couple of 50 yr old, possibly overweight people drinking beer out of a can (PBR if I remember properly). the crod in front of me were a mix of a group of Asia girls for a bachelorette party, some hipster boys with legs the size of my torso, and a strange half dozen girls in half prom dresses, tutus and Converse. Where were we!?!

On stage was a group of 6 boys, Bellevue's Finest , that weren't terribly interesting, but had a FABULOUS green covered man with a curly, red afro and a piano on a strap like a guitar. Highly impressed with his dance moves that included fist pumping, Africa got his attention when he was wondering in the crowd and acquired two free CDs for us, that were scribble on as "Collector's items". Right.

After sitting on some almost leather benches, drinking Heineken from a plastic cup, A Million Years (i almost made a bad choke. you can thank me later) popped onto the stage and took control of the scene. Four guys. And the lead singer not only belted out some catchy tunes, but he played the guitar, and pretty well.

Africa and i danced behind an abnormally tall man and his short girlfriend for a time, bought a t-shirt and split.

Not bad for "impromptu". Who knows... maybe next time I'll bring more than one country. They weren't a bad little group. Check them out.

http://www.freemansrestaurant.com/

http://www.myspace.com/amillionyearsmusic

A lot of strange and a very precocious nanny

One of my favorite parts of hanging out with the Munchkin on a full time basis is taking her on "excursions" that also happen to be my favorite things in life. Aquariums, theme parks, special exhibits, sports events and most of all- MUSICALS!! I love musicals. Since one of my first memories of seeing my brother as Jesus in "Godspell", I have seen dozens. Not just school musicals, but community and college, as well as off and on Broadway. The Munchkin hadn't seen any when I moved in and in three years I've taken her to Lion King and Shrek, and just this year I took her to Wicked, Addams Family and Mary Poppins.

Wicked was last January and was unbelievable. She loved when they shot confetti at the beginning and still remembers when the Professor started to "bah" instead of using a human voice, while I sand along to all the phenomenal music.

Just last week we saw Addams Family and Mary Poppins. As I sat in awe of the great Nathan Lane, Munchkin was hysterical in laughter over a curtain tail being cut lose and running across stage. While I marveled at the movement of the stairs and scenery, she still giggles thinking of Lurch singing and the Addams ancestors coming out of the mausoleum.

Mary Poppins was her favorite. Toys coming alive, a bottomless bag, and a nanny that could fly were too much for her little happiness to contain. She leaned over to me at one point and said that not only did I need a peacock umbrella, but that I should probably get one of those medicine bottles too. While Mary seemingly flew up the stairwell with grace and sass, I reminded her that I'll most likely need an airplane to fly in this lifetime.

The city is truly a stage of wonder. The Munchkin is constantly seeing talent and hard work in action on the most infamous of stages and I'm in just as much awe of the view as she is. Before the summer ends, we plan on seeing "In the Heights"- a musical about the beats and sounds of Washington Heights, where coincidentally a lot of the high school students I work with come from. With such great stories told by music and vocals alike, it's hard not to want to be on 42nd street 7 nights out of the week!!

PLAYBILLs I have collected:

Les Miserables (Ohio)

Cats (Ohio)

Civil War (Ohio)

Wicked (London/New York)

The Lord of the Rings (London)

Lion King (New York)

RENT (New York... x 3)

Spring Awakening (New York)

Next to Normal (New York)

Memphis (New York)

Shrek (New York)

The Addams Family (New York)

Mary Poppins (New York)

Cold War Kids, Rogue Wave, free Heineken.... OH YES!!

On Wednesday of this week, my good friend, kennedy, told me that she was going to see a concert on Friday: Cold War Kids. I asked if I could crash her party and grab my own ticket. She responded with a feverish head node and excited, "YES!".

I get on Cold War Kids website. No tour dates.

I text kennedy: Venue?

She texted back: On Houston Street?

Me: Are you asking me?

Her: No, thats all I know.

I chuckle.

I look up multiple venues, even some NOT on Houston, in case that is really all kennedy knows, I might be in for a goose chase. mercury lounge-miss. national underground- miss. pianos- nope. than I got less creative and chucked the idea.

Me: Listen, I can't find it anywhere. can you find out the venue.

Her: Oh, there is no venue. It's a secret concert.

Me: Right.

So in the end she got me a ticket. Around 9:15pm on friday night, I meet her at the path, immediately joined by kimball and his not-yet-tattooed-arm, and we walked to the "undisclosed location" on Houston.

We had no idea where we were going.

Luckily for us, at the exact moment we got to Houston, near the west side highway, a small little man with an earpiece appeared and asked us if we were going to see the concert. When we responded yes, he replied, "Go straight, make a left, and follow the green lights."

Munchkin? Yellow Brick Road? Creepy sex party with lots of leather and Tom Cruise wanna-bes? ANYONE!?

Sure enough, we round the corner and what should appear? A heaven of Heineken and two trailers of port-a-jons.

In all seriousness, kennedy's office had put up a flyer, "HOSTED BY HEINEKEN" a night of music, in an warehouse space on the west side highway. We waited in line for about 5 minutes, put green plastic wristbands on and were ushered into a astroturf college haven of games, after answering these 4 simple questions:

Your age

You sex

Have you drank a beer in the last 30 days?

What is you ethnicity?

The 5 of us all had difficulty with the final one. It was extremely dark out.

We set foot on the astroturf and you would have thought we were children in Never Never Land. There were adirondack chairs under beach umbrellas next to foosball tables and Wii consoles. Two sets of corn hole were being dominated by lovely dressed Manhattan fresh-bloods. We could hear a dj in the larger warehouse room. Green was the dominating color. and the beer!

There were buckets... everywhere!! Free for the taking? We weren't quite sure. So we walked up to the bar... with no tip jar, or cash register. WHAT WAS GOING ON!?! There were signs on the adjacent walls: BEVERAGES: REUBENS: DIM SUM: FALAFALS :HOT DOGS: SILK SCREENING T-SHIRTS.

What had we stumbled upon!?!? EVERYTHING WAS FREE!!!!

Did you take it in yet? Not only were we going to see Rogue Wave and Cold War Kids rock out on a free ticket, we were going to be able to drink Heineken and eat fair food for the entire night! FoR fREe!!!!

Alright, so after the initial shock of it, the mission of collecting the glass Heineken beer glasses ensued. We drank as we rode the Wave through a Good Morning and Lake Michigan. I found out that Something Is Not Right With Me when I had an Audience with the Kids. Our feet pounding the concrete, we pushed the preppy dressed drunks with our elbows, made friends with Germans who work in the "bank", and had multiple hot dogs.

3am. I'm crawling into bed, with kennedy at my side, giggling about the fact that we just had a New York night, like no other. And I'll be able to wear my green drums on silk screen to prove it.

Thank you Heineken. You have revived the idea of good promoting. And Theo. Thank you Theo.

Friday Night Family Dinners

About a year ago, we befriended our neighbors upstairs who had just moved back after a few years of being elsewhere. As I've mentioned before, my job as a nanny allows for Saturday and Sunday nights out on my own accord, but that doesn't mean Friday nights are a good night "out on the town". For a year now, it's been just that. A couple weeks ago, we went and saw Wicked as a "family", Mom, 9 year old, and I and it was a phenomenal experience. Last night, we went to Spice Market and to a school musical around Chelsea that was about the subway system of Manhattan and the lovely little mishaps that take place underground. A friend of, let's call her my Munchkin, was in it and we, along with the neighbors, decided to show our support.

However, before hand, we went to Spice Market in the Meat Packing district for dinner. Now, I must explain something outright: I have two favorite restaurants in New York City- one being Freeman's down in the Lower East Side, the other being one of my bosses- Spice Market. I'm by no means a foodie, I'm as much of a sucker for an Arby's roast beef sandwich as I am for a New York strip- however, there is something about being in a restaurant with the atmosphere, the other patrons, the waiters and someone else cooking the food that allows for a bit of adventure to take place. I had my normal, chicken samosas, snap peas and the broccoli and corn. It was delicious as always, however my company was a bit different. Our neighbors are both phenomenal actors, but more so, they are just really fantastic people. Chatting about everything from movies to see to fun excursions in the city~ We're always giving each other ideas for what to do with the kids.

I sat on the end with my Munchkin and their 9 year old and probably had the best conversations of the night. We talked about their favorite places. Munchkin's being Jackson Hole, Wyoming, the other being L.A. where he was headed the next day. They both then proceeded to draw pictures of their favorite places. For those of you reading this thinking, how does anyone take two nine year olds (very energetic ones at that) and a 4 year old to dinner at a very nice restaurant--- make sure they have someone to talk to about themselves. The moment these two are able to draw, paint, wikki-stik their way into their own world- they are content. and the pictures they drew were fabulously detailed and unique, just like them. Two very different worlds, yet drawn with the same love and passion. Ahhh to be 9 years old!

Now the play was cute, had some great talent in it- but that wasn't the point of this entry. The point was to say that I may not go and see a big named band every night of the week, or even weekly, but that doesn't mean that my nights out aren't fantastic- that they aren't worth writing about. So, it's Saturday. I'm going to do a bit of crafting this morning, then head to brunch with a friend at 1pm Who knows what the rest of the day will hold. But thats the beauty of my Saturdays. It doesn't matter what I do, because they are MINE and I can choose whatever I wish!