This video was taken at Rufus King Park in Queens, NY. I was shooting for "Hound Dog," boogie-woogie style. We were so tired from piano hunting at this point. I think this was number 54ish, and I was reaching into the dark corners of my mind to play another song by memory. What a great experience this was though - 60 pianos, throughout the 5 boroughs of NYC, in about 6 days. Whew! Enjoy. To see photos from the Play Me, I'm Yours project , click here . To see more videos, click here .

Don't let the title of this blog fool you, it's not about a toddler or small child. My husband is one of the most low-key people that I know in all but one aspect, food. I was astonished after we were married when I realized how picky of an eater he truly was. And since he finds the title "picky eater" offensive and inaccurate (eye roll), we now lovingly say he has a "sensitive pallet." I wonder just how many lugies I've eaten at restaurants after he's given specific instructions about the food to the waiter, or sent the food back when it didn't meet the standard. He despises leftovers and if he has to eat them, they have to be heated in the oven, not the microwave. He has a Monk -like compulsion about his food touching each other, and it's not unusual to see him carry 3 or more plates of his separated dinner so that the tastes aren't intermingled. He likes 2 ice cubes in his milk. Two percent. Needless to say, it's quite different...

Hello, little turkey. Thank you for giving your life in honor of our celebration. You are a beautiful and noble creature. Delicious too. A few years ago, back in the Army, I was in charge of running a firing range. We did our marksmanship training on outdoor shooting ranges in the wide-open spaces of Fort Bragg, NC. Part of this duty included arriving at the range before the other Soldiers, to prepare everything. I’ll never forget pulling up to that empty range, in the early, North Carolina haze. For there in the morning twilight, walking along the firing line, were 8 wild turkeys. My driver and I stayed aloof in our HMMWV for fear of scaring them off. They must have found something to eat, because they stayed for a long time. What a humorous and ironic picture that left in my mind. Eight hunted birds known for their tastiness, calmly walking across a live-fire range with brightly painted targets just over their heads. “X” marks the spot. But now that I think about it, it was proba...

And on the 328 th day, she did bake. And it was good. It’s that time of year when we excitedly anticipate special things that are just around the corner, then suddenly in one short day, they're over. For me, it’s the day before Thanksgiving, and I’m baking. I never understood it, even as a child. The women make a turkey, gravy, stuffing, dessert, set the table, decorate the house, and serve a grand meal while the men eat it. I never fell into the traditional role of domestic tasks such as this. My aversion to cooking came as a young girl when I tried to make pancakes for my family and instead, started a fire. I never really had the patience to follow a recipe, create from scratch, and make a huge mess in the process, when I could go to the store, buy the same thing, and keep the kitchen spic and span. However, I do concede to the tradition for Thanksgiving and do my best to contribute to the feast. I bake 2 things: banana bread and apple pie (I suppose I haven't graduated...

This Thanksgiving season marks the one-year passing of one of my oldest friends in the world, my dog Duchess. We got her as a puppy when I was 12 years old. She came with me when I moved out of the house for college, and stayed with me throughout 3 state-to-state moves. When she passed, I had her for over half of my life. Duchess started out as a family pet, but she became my dog. I couldn’t walk from one room to the next without her following at my heels. When her arthritis kept her from climbing stairs, she would follow me to the bottom step, lay down, and wait patiently for my descent. She went on 4-mile runs with me until she was 12 years old. When she began losing her hearing, I only needed to stretch my hand out to her and she knew that meant, “come.” I’ll never forget as she grew older, dreading the day I knew would inevitably come. If I thought about it too much, I would even begin to cry. She would just stare at me, then come over and lick my hand. I could sense that it ...

I surprised everyone by moving here to be near New York City with the intent of becoming a professional musician, performer, and songwriter. I look back now and I understand their shock. Leaving the financial security of our dual military income, a beautiful house, and comfortable life for the uncertainty of unemployment, a career change, and life in the big city must have seemed crazy to most people. After all, we had no family here, no friends, no prospects, and no idea what we were doing. Friends and family's first response was generally something like, "Do you know how much rent is there?!" or "It's so crowded!" As if we weren't aware of this already. But we did our best to explain our reasoning and I learned to appreciate my husband Eddie even more for helping me follow my crazy dreams. We considered several cities that had good music reputations from Austin, to Nashville, to Atlanta, even LA. But New York was always the ultimate to me, and set...

It’s nearly Thanksgiving and I’m still waiting for snow. I’m a Nebraska girl and have always felt right at home with snow at my feet. Before my husband and I moved outside New York City a year ago to try out this crazy music business thing, we lived in North Carolina for 3 ½ years, where snow is a rarity. Stationed at the Army base of Fort Bragg, we decided that we didn’t want to live in the military town of Fayetteville, and instead bought a house in the next town over, Raeford. One of the best things about living in Raeford was the drive to and from work. Yes, we were forced to wake up earlier and it took longer to get home at the end of a long day, but the driving route was through some amazing scenery. Fort Bragg is geographically the largest Army post in the US because of the massive area of firing ranges and parachute drop zones. Our route to the Fort Bragg gate entrance took us right through these wide-open spaces. And while driving in the morning at sunrise, and the evening a...