Joy and I walked through the wide, open lawn outside our apartments. With gardens in full bloom and lush trees providing shelter from the summer sun, it was a picturesque scene. On this lazy Saturday afternoon, we walked by 2 older ladies relaxing in the shade, passing time with conversation and take out pizza from the Italian restaurant across the street. They each sported their own shade of white hair and were clearly enthralled in each other’s friendly company. One of the ladies spotted Joy and gasped with pleasure. “Oh! I haven’t seen one of those dogs in ages. ” She exclaimed to her friend. Overhearing her remark, I changed our course from left to right, so they could get a better look at my pride and Joy. I smiled as we approached and it was clear they longed to pet her. I cut through the grass towards their two white lawn chairs and smiled widely as they oozed over Joy. Joy, bursting with excitement, rolled happily onto her back, exposing her tummy for bountiful scratches f...

Never seen the movie, but I get the distinct feeling that it’s centered around a heart wrenching decision. Like choosing between vision and sight. Curing cancer or Alzheimer’s. Dark chocolate or milk chocolate. Oh the humanity. It’s how I felt today in my very first pre-production meeting with Modern Vintage Recordings when deciding which of my songs to record. I only get 5. Rather than recording an entire album, like I originally hoped, circumstance will only allow me to record an EP (Electronic Package). An EP is a collection of about 5 tracks that are professionally and lovingly recorded with the utmost and esteemed professionalism, then used as a tool to promote the artist’s reputation and popularity in the music community. Hopefully this will allow me to book shows in NYC, radio interviews, and music reviews with local bloggers. As a relatively new artist on the NYC music scene, we decided this would be the smartest way to go, and in the future, the rest of my album will follow....

Thomas Edison invented the light bulb. I learned that in second grade and never gave it another thought. But today, I learned that he held patents for thousands of other inventions and employed over 10,000 people in his company that literally did nothing but continuously invent stuff. Thomas Edison National Park in West Orange, NJ is the location of his enormous “invention factory,” complete with a chemistry lab, blacksmith shop, and supply house stocked with every material imaginable from seashells to cows feet. There, he and his thousands of inventor employees, spent day after day dreaming, experimenting, and building. It’s the spot of the very first motion picture house where Edison made the movie, “Record of a Sneeze.” It’s also where he bellowed the nursery rhyme, “Mary had a Little Lamb” into the first, crude tinfoil sound recording device. As we walked through the museum, I learned that he worked tirelessly on his ideas, sometimes 90-100 hours a week. He is famous for quotes...

A few days ago, my sister Regina told me about an idea that's been rolling around in her head for a while. She thought it would make a great blog, so I asked if she wanted to guest write on mine. As I read this, I felt so proud of all she's done and I know that she will be an inspiration to many. Most of all, to her two boys. Go here to see more of her own blog,   She Lives in the Light . "Be Your Own Hero" by Regina Teague I grew up thinking I needed to be rescued. Everyone needs a hero, right? I didn’t really have a hero growing up. Oh, but I wanted the fairy tale. I wanted the knight in shining armor, four kids, a big house on a beautifully landscaped acreage, complete with a white picket fence. I would stay home with my four children and be the mom who made the best chocolate chip cookies and have them fresh out of the oven when they got home from school.   No joke. Seems idealistic, but I tried with all my might to create it. Well, as it turns out, life isn’t ...

This is one of my "safe songs." When I'm at a piano, deer in the headlights, eyes watching, and ears listening, there are always a few songs I can turn to to feel safe and confident. Safe songs include, among many others, "Crazy" by Patsy Cline, "Fly Me to the Moon" by Sinatra, and "Summertime" by Gershwin. St Louis Blues is one of them as well. I can play it with my eyes shut and it always sounds good. The amazing Mr Capps showed me how to play this kind of boogie-woogie and I'll be forever grateful to him. One of the best compliments I ever got from a stranger after I played this song was, "You could play that in New Orleans." So here it is, like warm milk before bedtime, a broke in pair of jeans, or a phone conversation with an old friend. One of my favorites, St Louis Blues.

Today at the dog park, I discovered that Joy does not play well with others. She’s not aggressive, mean, standoffish, or even shy. She’s downright terrified of other dogs. When we put her in the “small dog” pen, she was the largest of all the chihuahuas, terriers, and poodles, yet she darted in fear if one of them came too close. We tried to show her it was okay, playing with the other dogs and coaxing her to fetch the tennis ball. But as I watched her interact with the other dogs who were playfully wrestling and chasing each other, I felt like I was looking in on an awkward child trying to fit in at recess. Eventually, she worked up some nerve to follow the other dogs as they ran from one end of the fence to the other, but as soon as they noticed her, she backed off and walked away. The funny thing is, she melts in sheer happiness and trust when a complete stranger offers to pet her belly, basking in the interaction. We decided to leave the dog park after watching of our little adole...

It’s raining the kind of rain that makes you feel trapped and casts a dreary shadow on everything. It’s the kind of rain that makes Joy and the apartment smell like a wet dog when she’s only been outside for a minute. It’s the kind that makes the neighborhood weirdo seem all the more creepy because he’s standing outside in it, watching people scurry about. It’s the kind that conjures up unpredictable wind and tosses branches and debris all over the unsuspecting sidewalk and streets. Inevitably, sirens follow to aid victims caught in the storm. It’s the kind of rain that makes me fumble through the front closet in search of the one illusive flashlight among cardboard boxes and forgotten junk, in case the lights go out. It’s the kind of rain that traps me inside, like a prisoner. And though the rain continues, and will through tomorrow, we’re safe inside a fortress made of wood and plaster. The thin glass windows that separate us from the torrential storm suddenly seem six feet thick an...