Eddie and I set a goal 3½ years ago on our very first date. We had an unusual romance and by the time we went on our first date, we knew we would be spending the rest of our lives together. It was a typical evening – dinner, movie, dancing – but we had to travel to another state to do it. See, we were in hiding because of our forbidden love. Okay, insert looong story here if you’re interested. We kept the ticket stubs from our first date, as is the sentimental thing to do. We saw  Night at the Museum with Ben Stiller at a South Carolina movie theatre. Then Eddie had a brilliant idea. We should see a movie in every state, and keep the ticket stubs as a memento. And without hardly trying, we soon had 15 ticket stubs under our belt, thanks to the Army Soldier Show. I toured across the country with the show and Eddie would travel to visit me every chance possible. We would steal away when time allowed and go see a movie. Visiting family made it easy too, with me from Nebraska an...

I’ve become pretty familiar with the subway system in New York City. I no longer need my laminated, color-coded map to live permanently in my purse like a security blanket when I venture to places in the city. I’ve seen, heard, and experienced a smorgasbord of cultures, music, and customs in those underground, cement tunnels. Chilly in the winter and stagnantly suffocating in the summer, the subway system is truly a unique city below the city. Once I saw an old man who had dragged his enormous heavy wooden harp two stories below ground to play on the platform for spare change. His talent astounded me and I thought, I would pay to hear this man on a stage . Other times, the sights are heart breaking. The homeless trying to keep warm in the winter or just looking for a dry spot to sit, hoping a passerby will feel compassion and drop in some change. There are the “regulars” – like the man when I switch from the 7 to the 6, who plays hymns on his Native American flute. And there are some ...

Today was a great production meeting. First thing, my producer asked me if I had any concerns so far. I told him that I was very concerned that maybe we hadn’t chosen the right 5 songs for my EP with Modern Vintage Recordings . As much as I love the ones on the list right now, they are going to be my only 5 until I can afford to finish the album and I want them to be just right. He completely understood and together, we went back through and re-listened to all of my songs. For the first time, I showed him my blog. I told him stories of where and how I grew up, about my nephews, about my husband. I showed him online pictures from my Army days. I showed him the 82 nd Airborne Memorial with Kevin’s name on it. After a time of honest and easy flowing conversation, he told me with conviction that I have a unique story to tell, and the songs I choose for this EP should express that story. I don’t want an EP that says, “Here are 5 really nice songs.” I want it to say, “Here is who I am a...

A few months ago, I took the LSAT (Law School Admissions Test) thinking I might want to become a lawyer some day. It had actually been at the back of my mind for several years and four months ago, I decided to take the first step and sign up for the LSAT exam. Despite what Legally Blond would have you believe, there is much more to the application process than making a cute home video. First I attended a demanding preparation course which entailed about a month of excruciating studying. In the end, my score was average, nothing to brag about, but enough for me to continue on with the next step of actually applying to some law schools. After scrounging up my five year old college transcripts and hunting down three different people to write me letters of recommendation (thank you, sirs!), today was the first day that I could submit applications for the fall 2011 semester.  One important part of the application process is submitting a personal statement. Of course, I had no idea h...

"When you get the choice to sit it out or dance, I hope you dance."  -LeeAnn Womack I am not a parent, but I can imagine the burden of responsibility, concern, and even guilt that comes along with parenthood. My mother, for example, will forever bear the guilt knowing that she didn’t put me in tap dancing lessons as a child. It will be my lifelong sorrow, and one I never let her forget, that I’m not shuffle-ball-changing my way through “Tea for Two and Two for Tea” on some grand stage. As a child, I sat on our living room floor, 6 inches from the television as Ginger Rogers and Fred Astaire clicked their way through “Cheek to Cheek” in one of my all time favorites, Top Hat . I scrubbed black scuffmarks off the linoleum kitchen floor after I performed a musical number in my Sunday school shoes, the only ones that made a tap sound with the heel.  To this day, my mother rolls her eyes and lowers her head in defeat when I casually mention my “dream that got away.” I fear h...

I don’t know how one develops a horrible cold in the middle of summer, but somehow I did. What better time to have a sick day than on a weekend, with nothing to do but cuddle up on the couch within arms length of Kleenex, cough drops, and all 4 remote controls (I'm still not sure which goes to what gadget). Oh, but not this sick day. I had a gig in Sparta, NJ which entailed packing and loading up Ray (my keyboard), the stand, microphone, microphone stand, amps, cords, and music. Then driving for an hour in Sunday afternoon traffic (which is surprisingly horrible here for some reason), unloading it all, playing for an hour and a half, re-packing, re-loading….well, you get the point. It’s a lot of work any day, but especially when you’re still hung over from a late night dose of Nyquil. After miles of interstate and winding roads, we finally arrived at quite possibly the largest house I’ve ever been to. The gig was entertainment for a metaphysical church gathering at a parishoner’s ...

Ten or eleven years ago, my family went on a vacation to Florida. We chose the route to and from our destination that would allow us to drive through as many different states as possible, including Louisiana. And that was the first, and really only time since that I’ve thought about New Orleans. Until today. As early as ten o clock this morning, I found myself sipping my coffee, watching news coverage of the 5 th anniversary of Katrina, and wondering, where the heck was I five years ago, and why am I hearing more about this now than when it actually happened? I was a newly commissioned Lieutenant back then and working at the University of Nebraska as an ROTC recruiter. I’ve never been a current events buff, but how did something like that go right past me, barely grazing me in the process? I recall making a small donation to the Red Cross, and then…I don’t know, I’m ashamed to say I never really thought about it much after that. I couldn’t believe my eyes today when I saw five-year-...