Hartwood Acres Freebie

or the end of the line for my Old 97's/Rhett Fest 09 :(

Okay, so Sunday was the last stop on my Festival Train of Obsession. The Old 97's played a freebie (gotz to love the freebies!!) at the beautiful concert site at Hartwood Acres north of Pittsburgh. 

(OMG!! Look at that face!!!! Sorry. Moving on.)

I had arranged to meet up with my steel drum buddy/Old 97's virgin Sheila and her hubby shortly before the show. I got there earlier, natch (obsessive/compulsive behavior will do that) and staked out a claim in the front. 

The chippie in charge just announced they were going to start the gig early when first came one 50-cent-piece-sized drop of rain...then another...then the sky split in two releasing the most powerful storm I have ever been caught in. Seriously. It was like the flood gates of Hell were unleashed on us unsuspecting heathens. I mean, Dude, it was of biblical proportion. No lie. The man-sized drops were pounding sideways instantly flooding the concreted dance area, not to mention my NEW SHOES!!?! 

Letter to God:

Dear Sir: 

Don't be messing with a girl's new shoes. That ain't right. Oh, and thank you for the rainbow afterwards. 

Sincerely, 

Murray

Anywho, I had my slicker on, but my blue jean capris were soaked through in minutes. I swear the weight of said rain stretched them an inch longer than when I dawned them hours earlier. This assault by nature went on for roughly 20 minutes.

During my desperate search for cover, I met a recent college grad/Olds enthusiast named Annie. She had driven for 3-1/2 hours from deep in West Virginia by herself to see the show...and apparently to get completely waterlogged. We ended up adopting her for the evening. Sheila and Tim finally made it down to the stage--dry, with some much needed wine in hand. 

It turned out to be a beautiful night.

With a packed crowd. 

The band was very impressed with our fortitude. Come on. We're Burghers. We're already out. What's a little flood waters amongst friends.

Rhett and the boys opened with the rocking "Won't Be Home" and kept the energy level at 11 for the rest of the evening. They even played "W. Texas Teardrops", a delightful little number that just makes you want to two-step around the dance floor. During the encore break, Rhett came out and played a new tune "Like Love" and perennial favorite "Come Around" before introducing the band back for the last four songs. 

He gave this young lad the thrill of his little life by personally handing him his set list in the middle of the encore set. Look at his little face. He was floating!

It was a great concert. The crowd was loud and appreciative, the wine was flowing, Annie and I were singing and dancing. And as always, it was waaaaay too short. I love "Time Bomb" because they play it with such abandon. They sink every last bit of energy left in them into that song. But I HATE hearing Ken's first chord, because it means it's the end of the evening. TB is their signature closer. 

*sigh*

This one was doubly sad for me, for it signified the end of my concert fun run. I  have nothing else lined up... I swear I'm going through withdrawal.

In honor of Billy Mays.. But wait, there's more!

Before the deluge, the lead guitarist, Ken came out to the merchandise table. He has a rep for being kind of the hard-assed, curmudgeon of the group. Geo and I spoke briefly with him at Maxwell's, but he's not always the friendliest. Whatever tension lurks within the Old 97's I'm pretty sure centers around the relationship between Ken and Rhett. I'm betting they're both rather controlling and butt heads regularly. 

This night, however, he was very chatty and approachable. He signed my CD, we gabbed, he shared his title as number one jazz patch in music. Apparently there was a listing in some magazine of the best jazz patches on musicians. Dizzy Gillespie was first, Frank Zappa second, Ken Bethea third. The first two guys are dead, so by his logic...he's number one.

That is a pretty good jazz patch.

Anywho, after the show the guys came out to meet those of us who stuck around. They're really good about taking time to greet their fans. It's one of the things that makes them special.

Finally got to meet the drummer, Philip. He's really sweet and quiet. I think he plays the part of Switzerland in the band. You know, neutral party...doesn't choose sides...just wants everyone to get along. 

Had a lengthy, animated and witty conversation with Murry, the bassist. He remembered me from the beach Thursday, which honestly took me by surprise since I hadn't spoke with him after either show. Perhaps my erratic, drunken dancing caught his eye...or the singing off-key.  We chatted about all sorts of topics; his charity (a habitat for humanity type of charity only the homes are for dirt poor people in Tijuana), the joy of aging (he gave a few pointers to Annie), how Ken, his touring roomie, doesn't flush (HA HA!) and just general crap. It's amazing how easy it is to talk with someone on whom you don't have a major crush. Unlike when I'm around Rhett and turn into brain-damaged, monosyllabic moron girl as stated in the last posting. Anyway, it was a very enjoyable conversation which ended in a hug. You know me. I'm big on hugging. I like to hug. I'm a hugger.

As you can imagine, the sweet young ladies were swarming all over Rhett, so I had to wait to talk with him. No problem. I totally get it. However, he made my little heart jump when he looked my way, smiled and said "Hi, Marie". 

*swoon*

Seriously. I know it is the silliest thing ever, but it makes my day to know he actually recognizes me and knows my name now. And I swear to God he was glancing my way when I was chatting with Murry. Okay, that's my fantasy and I'm sticking with it. 

We yakked for a bit, but by then the younger, nubile girls were circling so I snagged my hug and stepped away. (One of these days I'm going to get a kiss from the blue-eyed lovely, but then I would officially be "creepy older lady". Eeeww...so, no. I'll stick with hugging.) Anywho, he stopped mid-sentence to say goodbye to me when he saw we were leaving. 

*uber sigh* 

That's why I find him so dear. He is the sweetest rock guy on Earth. Seriously. His Momma really did teach him right. 

Okay, so get this. The next morning I open my home email before heading off to work, and there's a "message from Murry Hammond on MySpace". 

What? Really? 

He had written a little note telling me how much he enjoyed our chat, how he wished we had coffee in hand and more time to talk. Ending with "see ya down the road, hopefully sooner than later." Imagine my surprise. He tracked me down on MySpace. That's a first. Now I guess I'm a FOM..Friend of Murry's. Cool.

What a great week!! Three live shows, one in-store solo performance, beach time, multiple meet & greets, numerous hugs, FOM and I got the best live album ever, "Alive and Wired" signed by the entire band. 

Not a bad week at all. I miss them already.

Old 97's/Rhett Fest '09

or my week as a 16 year-old middle-aged groupie

I'm back. Did you miss me? Sure you did, right? Right?

Okay, so I talked about my Rhett Fest week ad nauseum, and now it has finally come and gone. Too quickly, I might add. It started with a road trip to Hoboken last Friday. Geo was gracious enough to accompany me on this leg of my obsession...er, journey.

As luck would have it, the lovely blue-eyed one scheduled an in-store performance in a record store a little south of my sister's. We headed down there...in the teeming rain, only to be totally confused by our Google directions. We kept driving in circles once we reached the town. Panicked, I grabbed my phone and jumped on Navigator. Finally, we found the store. All was right with the world. (Note to self: NEVER use Google for directions. Especially for something as important as a Rhett appearance! Stick with AAA.)

Hanging around the outside of the store waiting for Geo, a sleek, black Sprinter bus pulls up. The door opens and ... ta da! Rhett himself steps out... like four feet away from me.

*swoon*

Because he's a good guy and his Momma taught him well, we chit-chat a bit before he enters the store. Now I'm getting the vapors.

The performance is fairly well attended and goes well. The crowd loved him. He's his usual charming self, belting out around a dozen songs, most of them requests. Here are a few I recorded.

The opener "Like Love" and "If It's Not Love". If you listen closely you can hear Geo shout out the request. I love him... Geo, that is. *Snort* You KNOW how I feel about Rhett.

The hit "I Need To Know Where I Stand" from his new CD aptly named Rhett Miller. Catchy, no?

Performing the oldie, but goodie "Jagged" and another knew tune "Caroline".

Afterwards Rhett did a meet and greet, taking extra time to talk with the half dozen children in attendance. He really digs kids. Another thing that makes him the perfect fantasy husband. Being the freak that I am, I stood in line to have him sign a couple of CDs, take photos, yak, etc. I even snagged a hug from the boy. Color me happy.

Grinning from ear to ear, Geo and I jumped back into the car and headed North for Hoboken. We decided to stay the night since we wouldn't be getting out of Maxwell's until one or two o'clock. I made reservations at the W Hoboken on River Street overlooking lower Manhattan. Uber swanky digs. Okay, there was something just a little odd and unsettling about this hotel. Service is a huge thing with this place. A little too huge. I mean they kept sending us emails asking if there was anything at all they could provide us to make our stay better. Without question. Anything at all.

Anything? Like, what...get a Filipino boy to scrub my back? A Geisha for Geo? It all seemed a little... pimpy, if you know what I mean. This whole "your wish is our command" sentiment was kinda wigging me out. But I have to admit, this was funny. Amongst a tray of items for sale in the room... you know the tray of snacks, t-shirts, whatever ... was this. (click on the photos for a larger view. really, do it. it's worth the read)

Hands down the best condom packaging EVA!

Later Geo and I met up with a woman I've become friends with over the internet, Cindy. 

She's a professor of social media at Texas State and is a big music fan. She was in town on business, and joined us for dinner before the Old 97's show. It was great fun for me to stand with someone equally enamored who sang and danced along. She took the photos I've posted, because quite frankly her camera is waaaay better than mine. I have camera envy.

We hung around later so she could set up an interview with Rhett for later in the week--she also writes for music magazines and has a music blog. You can see her interview with Mr. Miller here. To my absolute delight, Rhett recognized me and Geo standing off to the side, walked over and gave me a big hug.

*sigh*

Did I mention I'm like a 16 year-old around him? Pathetic.

Next up, Dewey Beach. Geo passed on this excursion, but my friend Kelly was on board. Our Thelma and Louise act pulled into town Thursday afternoon. The hotel was literally one block down from the club. Sweet! We had time to kill so we headed to the beach for some much needed sun and surf.

Okay, so this is where it gets ugly... and embarrassing.

On our way back to the hotel to clean up before the show, we pass the Sprinter parked alongside the club. And who should just happen to be standing next to the bus... you guessed it, Rhett!?!

OH.Mi.GOD!! UGGGGGGGGGGGGgggggggggh!

I can't believe my fantasy husband saw me in my BATHING SUIT, sporting my crazy-assed, beach-blown, mop-top hair, reeking of surf and sweat. I'm sure the sight of me scared the bejesus out of him. He, of course said hello and threw out some other small talk to which I could only respond with a classic Neanderthal, monosyllabic grunt. How mortifying. I totally blew my chance to casually chat at length with him. Stupid, Stupid chick.

There's a chance he didn't recognize me, right? Right? Yeah, right.

To add to my humiliation, when I caught up with him after the show, I was all sloshy and slurry having drunk waaaay too much vodka during the show. Can you say Asshat? I did get some nice photos, though.

Bottle and Cork, Dewey Beach

See that look right there... he's thinking about how hot I looked in my swim suit. 

This post is gi-normous, so I'll post part three of Rhett Fest in the next post...because I know you can't get enough of my little obsession. Ciao!

In Time Everything Is Illuminated 

or finally understanding your parent  

Okay, so last night I was sitting on the deck amidst a cool summer breeze, pitting what seemed like 3,000 gallons of freshly picked sour cherries so generously offered by our neighbors. The thing about performing a completely mindless, manual labor over and over again is it allows one's thoughts to freely drift from one's subconscious.  

In my reverie, I realized Sunday was Father's Day. Being as Geo and I have neither fathers living nor children of our own, Father's Day is a holiday which goes by uncelebrated and sadly, unnoticed in our home. Most of the time I completely forget on which day it falls. This realization lead me to thoughts about my Dad, and how, at 49 years of age I think I finally get where he was coming from. 

When we were kids, my Dad worked the afternoon shift at the Post Office so we hardly saw him until his days off. Even then he usually was gone all day Saturday either golfing or out with his brother. He usually returned drunk and raging about the war or missed opportunities in his life. He was a product of World War II--he smoked too much, drank too much and was haunted by ghosts that stared up at him from the bottom of a whiskey bottle. At the time we all were embarrassed by his weekly rants and could not for the life of us understand why he was unable to forget the past, enjoy what he had and move on. I was unable to forgive him then. I was too green.

I think I get it now. In time everything is illuminated.

Let's start from the beginning. My Dad had bad timing. 

When the war started his brother advised him to enlist instead of being drafted. That way he could choose a branch of the military and not get stuck in the trenches of the Army. Heeding his brother's advice, he enlisted in the Air Corp thinking at least he'd be dry, well fed and away from the crazy land warfare. 

Turns out the government yahoo in charge put him on the WRONG TRAIN!! He ended up...you guessed it, in the Army marching in Patton's Third division. He marched from Africa to Germany. He was cold. He was hungry. He was tired. He was wounded twice--one of the times he begged the doctor not to amputate his leg. He had the most impressive five inch x two inch x 1/2 inch deep scar on his thigh. I remember putting my little hand in that huge divot, marveling at the depth of the hollow. He would never talk about it. And he would never wear shorts, no matter how stinking hot it was. Then to top it all off, when he came home the ship carrying his belongings sank. All of his stuff was gone. 

When he met my Mother on a blind date, he was going to art school. My Dad was a really good painter/sculptor and dreamed of being a commercial artist. 

(All of my siblings are talented and take after my Dad. My oldest sister, Weezie has a fabulous eye for photography. Her compositions are effortless and outstanding. My second sister, Vicki, is the painter. She was really good and had a nice flair. I hope she finds time to pick up the paintbrush again. Toni has a gorgeous singing voice, just like my Mother. And my brother has all of the musical talent in our family. He was fantastic on guitar. I think he could have been a session musician, but like Daddy, life got in the way. Someday I hope he starts strumming again. Me, I don't know. I'm really good at wasting time.)

Anywho, back to my Dad....

He met my Mom, fell in love and six months later was married. Ten months later my sister, Weezie was born. A couple years later Vicki was in the picture. Four months after that my Mom was pregnant with Toni, and he finally had to face the fact he needed a full-time job to support his growing family. I think leaving his dream in the dust crushed his soul a little. He went from creatively expressing himself through oils and clay to sorting other people's college acceptance letters into tiny slots over...and over... and over... and over... and over.

There were times when I think he resented us kids. Our very existence represented a constant reminder of a life lost for him. A bitter pill to swallow. But I know deep down and especially at the end of his life, he loved us and was glad we were his. 

But I get it now. I get how his life not turning out the way he envisioned it made him bitter, resentful and pine for things that could have been. Who knows how his life would have turned out had he skipped that blind date or met my Mom 10 years later. We all have crossroads from which we must choose a path. Sometimes the choice we need to make is not the one we want to make. After circling the sun for a few decades, now I can understand his frustration. I couldn't then. I hadn't lived enough. Hadn't made enough choices between want and need. Life was too black and white. I couldn't see the gray. 

In time everything is illuminated.

My Dad's been gone 20 years. 20 years... It's hard to believe it's been that long already. He wasn't always the easiest person to get along with, but he wasn't an ogre by any means. He would always take us kids to the zoo, the drive-in, searching for leaves for a school project. Whatever. He was honest, earnest, had a great sense of humor, a yen for teasing my Mom and a tremendous work ethic. He did whatever it took, worked wherever he could to support his family. He instilled that ethic in all of us. Oh, and he could be charming, especially to my Mother the morning after a drunken Saturday night.

We all had issues with my Dad, but luckily his lingering illness afforded us all the opportunity to mend our respective fences before he passed. Sometimes life gives you what you need without you asking. 

I never told him I loved him until he got sick. Strange since we're Italian and you'd think we'd say that all the time, but we didn't. It felt really weird at first. Uncomfortable. Awkward, even. But then it felt wonderful...natural. I'm happy to say I tell my Mom I love her every time we talk. That, too feels natural now. That, too is a gift from my Dad.

I think about my Dad a lot. I miss him. You never really get over the loss of a loved one, no matter how flawed he might have been. Our flaws make us human. Our family wasn't Ozzie and Harriet. It was what it was. He did his best. That's all you can ask for. 

I don't know...I think we all turned out alright. 

This is a picture of my parents taken right before they married. They were 25, playful, carefree, vibrant and crazy about each other. They were in love and had the world by the short hairs. They had no idea what lie ahead for them or where life would take them. Nothing else mattered except the love they shared. Look at them. It's as if their radiance is glowing from within. The essence of the hopeful nature of youth captured in one perfect moment in time. 

I adore this photo.  

In time everything is illuminated.

In Praise of Tosh.0 

or this guy ain't right!!  

Okay, so I finally caught Tosh.0 Thursday on Comedy Central after The Colbert Report. OMG! This dude is so wrong, it's hilarious! 

Dan Tosh already has a hugely funny stand-up airing on Comedy Central, and Tosh.0 is brand new to the network. One of the humorous elements of the show is "web do-overs" where he let's the person who made a fool of him/herself reenact the embarrassing scene with a better outcome. This week's do-over involved a guy who threw up on an interviewer's desk...live...on the air. Other bits include a weekly flower shop video with David Koechner, one minute with Fred Willard and to end the show, a YouTube video montage of folks doing idiotic things. This week's montage was all about morons on treadmills. I'm not ashamed to say it made me cry.

Anyway, you can check this week's as well as last week's installment here. 

Enjoy!

Friday Photo #25

Okay, so there's obviously a story behind how I came to be in possession of this card. Brevity is not in stars for this post. Sorry.

Several months ago Geo was on the computer trying to buy something off of the Barnes and Noble site when he noticed the credit card was almost expired. When I called the credit card company to see when the new card would be sent, I found out the payment was due .. the NEXT day. Geo jumped on line and sent the payment off on its way. However, this launched a frantic search through a couple of stacks of papers for the missing bill. 

Me: May I help you look for the bill, Honey? (you see how sweet and nice I was? I swearz to God I was nothing but sweetness and light. Honest. Seriously. Not snarky at all.)

Geo: No. (rifles through first pile-visibly annoyed)

...a minute passes

Me: Are you sure I can't help you? (batting my eyelids coyishly)

Geo: NO. (a little more tense)

... another minute passes, still no bill

Me: Are you sure I can't help you look--

Geo: No! What would help is if you'd stop looking AT ME. Grrrr! Snarl! Gnashing of teeth! Bark Bark!

Me: Ooooookay then. (exits room, heads for upstairs bedroom--quietly. I swear there was no slamming of doors or anything-which is quite a feat for me, lover of slamming of things)

After a little while I came back downstairs, Geo apologized for wazzing on me and it was all over. That's how we fight. Snark, blow up, give a wide berth, apologize, over. Next! There's less bloodshed this way. 

Anywho, the next day I was in the kitchen when Geo came home. I walked into the dining room and there was a little white bag with a card attached. Naturally, I looked my dear, dear husband in the eye and asked, 

What did you do? 

G: Nothing.

Me: No really. What did you do?

G: Nothing. I just felt bad about yesterday. 

M: But you apologized already. It's over. We're good.

G: I know...Just open the stupid card!!

I opened the envelope...and I laughed my ASS off! 

What a great card, and oh, so appropriate. Thinking this quote was from a heartfelt love poem, we jumped on line in search of the source. Sadly, it's an essay about friends and not some admonition of Emerson's undying devotion to an unattainable love. No matter. This note has a permanent perch on our mantle. It never fails to make me smile each time I walk past it.

Geo is the best. He is once again suffering my obsession with all things Old 97's/Rhett Miller. Today we embark on part one of Rhett Fest '09. We're heading to Ford, NJ for an in-store performance by my fantasy second husband, then off to Hoboken to catch the band at Maxwell's where we will hoist a cocktail or two with my fellow Rhett lover friend, Cindy from Austin. I'm looking forward to singing along with an equally enthusiastic fan. Poor Geo. Say a little prayer for him.

Do you see why I love him? I'm sure the sentiment of this card will run through his mind more than once this weekend. 

"I Don't Think We're In Kansas Anymore"

or my night caught in circular signature Hell... 

Wow!

Last night's weather was WACK! Seriously frelling...no, I need to use a stronger word here...fucking Armageddon! It started off with severe T-storms and rapidly progressed to countless sightings of what the weather prognosticators dub "circular signatures" or atmospheric conditions which could lead to tornadic activity. And did in one instance. 

There were tons of lightning strikes to go along with the heavy, heavy downpours. 

The crazy thing is this storm line didn't weaken as the evening progressed. It actually seemed to get stronger at some points. A link to more viewer photos, including a funnel cloud spotted in a suburb, posted on the KDKA website is here.

The fun and games at the Special K started at 4pm. The entire three hour news block (yeah...we do three hours of LOCAL news every night. Seriously. Three. Hours. We barely have enough crap to report for one hour, let alone three, but, yeah...three hours. It's madness, I say. Madness. But I digress...) became pretty much the Weather Channel with a smattering of news and a tad of sports.

We signed off at 6:55pm only to sign back on for a special report from 7:08pm through eternity...well, midnight. And that sign off time took some cajoling. 

Okay, this time around our continual on-air presence was actually valid. There was some major scary shit going down. Four times during the evening our studio lights took a hit and went out. We were able to get those back on quickly. Some equipment hiccuped for a bit and we had some semi-substantial flooding in our basement...the NEWLY renovated basement which was completely totaled by a water main break several years ago. 

You know, you do what you have to do in these circumstances. Every one stays in place as long as it takes, but, come on! They didn't even feed us. I realize the weather was such that nobody was going to be delivering pizza, but they didn't even think to go buy snacks for the crew and talent shackled to the set for eight straight hours. As we say in Pittsburgh, that's just ignorant.

Towards the later half of the long, long evening, everyone on the set started getting tired and punchy from low blood sugar. Our collective 12-year-old boy sense of humor came out to play. Everything uttered from the weather man sounded dirty...all that talk about banging and pounding. Multiple "that's what she said" moments. Plus our male anchor read a story in which the phrase "horizontal drilling" was prevalent. I couldn't look at him while he was reading, because I new he'd crack up on air. Yeah, that kinda crap's a morale lifter for all of us during these times. 

Anywho, it's all said and done and now this morning the confluence of our three rivers looks like this. 

Pretty. There's a lot, A LOT of clean up to do, but no one died or got washed away. It could have been so much worse.

But really. Next time people. PIZZA!! Order pizza!! 

The Weather Is Starting to Get Extreme 

or it must be Three River's Arts Festival Season 

Okay, so this past weekend was the opening of the 50th annual Three Rivers Arts Festival. It's this great outdoor Art, Craft, Music, Film and food festival held yearly in downtown Pittsburgh. Usually the festival lasts 17 days, but due to financial restraints, this year's event has been shortened to ten days.

Most of the people I work with hate this time of year. Not me. I love it. Our building is right smack dab in the middle of the festival with our plaza hosting the artists market. Sure navigating through the throngs of pram pushing parents takes a bit of patience, but I love the atmosphere all the activity creates. Plus this year there's a little stage right outside our door for acoustic acts to perform. 

It's really cool to walk outside and be greeted by a breeze blowing in your hair, people milling around, music floating on the current and the smell of food wafting in the air. It's such a let down when everyone packs it in at the end of the week, leaving the plaza empty and lifeless. Kind of like after Christmas when all the decorations are shoved back in the attic and the house feels plain and ugly again.

So anyway, one of the highlights of the festival is the artist market featuring an array of goods from leather purses, jewelry, textiles, jewelry, pottery, photography, jewelry, jewelry and did I mention...jewelry. Then sometimes there's an odd booth like this disturbing one

Eeewwww. Kreepy indeed. He might as well have stocked that puppy with clown heads as far as I'm concerned. Ick! But apparently, kids love those hideous things. Oh well. As Geo always says, "that's why they make chocolate and vanilla".

I think perhaps the biggest draw of the festival is the plethora of food booths. We span the globe in the gut-buster department. There's Mexican, Chinese, Polish (we do love our pierogies here) and French. Okay they're just crepes, but that's French, right?

We have the ubiquitous corn dog. 

Not just any corn dog...a hand-dipped corn dog. Yum? What? Is that the cadillac of corn dogs, or something? I never got the whole allure of the corn dog. I just don't associate corn encased hot dogs with tasty. Although I'm kinda liking saying "corn dog" a thousand times. Corn Dog Corn Dog Corn Dog 

And of course, let's not forget there's.... 

There are also tons of tasty treats...kettle corn, funnel cakes and divine chocolate covered strawberries.

One of the big crowd pleasers is the musical acts scheduled every night. I admit I'm not familiar with a lot of the bands booked, but there are always one or two worthy of traveling back to town. Besides..it's free. 

The first act on the main stage for this year's festival was The Black Keys with Jessica Lee Mayfield as their opener. JLM is a bit twangy country and an odd combo with the hard rocking sound of the Black Keys, but hey... whatever. Like I said, it's free. Her band was pretty good, but the songs all tended to sound the same. Plus I still don't know what she looks like since she didn't take off the gigantic, big-ass Jackie O sunglasses all night. 

Her brother, however, added an entertainment factor with his antics molesting his upright bass. Once they finished playing, there was suddenly a huge crowd which rushed the stage in anticipation of the arrival of the Black Keys.

I had no idea there were only two guys in this band. They make a HUGE wall of sound for only two skinny guys. Seriously. Insanely huge sound. They were good. Even this dude with the dog enjoyed them. The baby seemed to dig it, too. (One of the many curious sites one spies at a festival)

And, of course, no festival would be complete without a little...

BUTT CRACK!!

All in all, it has been a fine festival this year. I think there was only one night where a "Mother of All Storms" blew through curtailing activity. Not bad for this event. Everyone goes home tomorrow night, leaving our little home away from home quiet and boring again. 

Same time next year?

Lord Stanley, Lord Stanley. Give Me The Brandy!

I LOVE HOCKEY!!

Four and a half months ago, my beloved Penguins struggled to get a play off berth. Now they hoist the coveted Stanley Cup after one of the most exciting games in hockey history. It was a hard fought journey. They played their hearts out. They never gave up even after being down 2-0 in the series. They forced a game seven after a commanding win at home for game six. Thanks to Max Talbot's two brilliant goals tonight, they pulled out a 2-1 victory. 

I jumped... I screamed.... I cried... Our neighborhood exploded with cheers, car horn blasts and firecrackers. 

It's an emotional journey, especially for us fans, but the  boys came through. I'm so proud of them. They've made our town the City of Champions once again. 

And to Marion Hossa who left our franchise to play for Detroit because he wanted to win a Stanley Cup... Dear Sir: You chose poorly.

Lord Stanley's come to play. This summer the party's in Pittsburgh. Elvis has left the building...with a shiny, old cup.

Way to go, PENS!!