Catching Up On Vacation, Part II

or it's all about Rhett **Obsession Alert**

Okay, so as I write this the Old 97's are three days into a four night no-repeat, Evening With... concert fest at Dallas' historic Sons of Herman Hall. Our New York friends, George and Maria (yeah...same names. weird isn't it) have flown down to partake in the pure, unadulterated joy of every single show.

I am so freaking JEALOUS!!

I am completely green with envy.

I hate them.

No. Of course I don't. Well... maybe just a little. They're lovely people whom we've gotten to know from going to Old 97's & Rhett shows. (They went to all four, no-repeat shows in Hoboken this summer, too. hate them.) It's just the green-eyed monster talking. Every year the band puts on a balls-to-the-wall, four day fest for their home town. I would LOVE to go, but here's the rub. Even though I've been at my job for like, a full 2 1/2 geological periods, I will never have the week between Christmas and New Year's off.

Never. Ever.

Until I retire. Let's see...I'll be 65, Rhett will be 55, Murry & Ken will be 60 and 62... They could still rock out, right? I mean, look at the Stones. Yeah...that's just too sad and pathetic a thought to ponder. So I have to settle for living vicariously through others.

Here we are after Rhett's Pawling, NY show from this vacation. They're lovely people, but I still pretend hate them a little.

But wait...isn't this supposed to be about the fun we had on our vacation? Sure was, drama queen. Stop belly aching about what you're missing and concentrate on the good fortune you had. Loser. Alright, Alright... No need to get snarky. Be-yatch. (is talking to yourself the first sign of crazy?)

Okay, so let's start again...

Let's begin with Monday. Again through the powers of Twitter, I stumbled on a tweet from a wonderful New York charity near NYU called Housing Works. They operate an all-volunteer run bookstore and consignment shop, whose profits go towards providing housing to people with AIDS. They just so happened to be hosting a benefit featuring TV's Jill Hennessy and ... the lovely blue-eyed one.

Jill Hennessy (from Crossing Jordan) was surprisingly not bad. She has a nice voice and called my Rhett on stage for her last song, The Pogues "Fairytale of New York".

I just love how shy and awkward he can be. It's endearing. And Gez Louise. Could she have a longer neck?!? Seriously. BTW, that's George and Maria in the front row.

Anywho-he compiled a literary set list consisting of only his songs which contain the word book (504, Book of Poems, Drowning in the Days) or reference authors like DeLillo, Salinger or David Foster Wallace or are based on literature. It was rather impressive. He's one smart, well-read guy.

And boy did he rock the place!! So much so, his usual high-energy, foot stomping actually separated the two-piece, make shift stage sending his beer tumbling to the carpet, spilling its contents. A sad sight indeed.

Book of Poems/Four-Eyed Girl

That video perfectly illustrates the kind of energy he puts into shows. He is moving that platform, Baby! You see why I love him? He puts everything he has into performing. Sorry the image is out of focus. Apparently I suck as a videographer at times. This is one of my favorites, but then again...there're all pretty much my favorite.

Drowning in the Days

Not only is he gorgeous and uber talented, he speaks French, too. The perfect fantasy man, even if he plays a sour chord once in a while and duffs some of the lyrics to his opening number. Still perfect.

Question

As my friend Cindy says, "Any time I get to stand in front of him and hear him sing is a good day."

Right on, Sister!

Believe it or not, the week wasn't ALL about my fantasy husband. In between Rhett sets, Geo and I went shopping at the Union Market and bought the grooviest zipper purses. They come packaged as a spool and you zip it up to form the purse. They are the absolute coolest! We bought, like five.

We also went to museums, drank festive cocktails, ate incredible ethnic foods, visited our nephew, drank margaritas, ate more tasty foods, shopped some more, drank and stopped by the Rockefeller Tree.

Our last concert stop of the week was a short jaunt north to a quaint little club in Pawling, NY. Once again, who do we see at the front center table? Our pals George and Maria, who happened to be seated in front of friends of the Millers. We were seated half way back, but honestly there wasn't a bad seat in the house. New Paltz's own The Trapps did a fine job as opening act. The place was packed with their friends and family. It's always fun to watch people who are unfamiliar with Rhett's song stylings become converts.

It was interesting to see Rhett in his natural habitat playing to friends of his. The club is only about an hour east of his home. He seemed really relaxed and playful. His friends even sang the long abandoned "You got the teeth of the hydra upon ya" chorus to Singular Girl, shaming him into singing it as well.

It was fantastic! He played a 24-song set list including two Christmas songs

Holly Jolly Christmas

and charmed us all with his witty banter and the story behind I Need To Know Where I Stand

You can hear Geo laughing in the background. Mr. Miller is so freaking charming!! Seeing him play makes me so very, very happy. Every show is distinct. Every song interpreted a little differently than the last time. Every evening he puts himself out there.

Oh yeah...and he's really kind and tolerant of goofballs who adore him. Oh and did I mention how gorgeous he is? No? Well he totally is.

Whether he's playing alone or with the band, Time Bomb is always the final song of the night. It's such a bittersweet moment for me. It is such a great song, which he plays with complete and utter abandon using up whatever energy he has left. But it signals the end of the evening. And I'm never ready for him to stop. EVER.

What's the show biz saying, always leave them wanting more? Well, he certainly does.

So ends my amazing year following a remarkably talented, lovely blue-eyed man around the Eastern seaboard. The more amazing thing is my darling Geo was along for the ride. So it's only fitting to end this post with the perfect closer. And I promise not to be so obsessive next year. HaHaHaHa!! *Snort* Sometimes I crack myself up.

"I got it badly for a stick-legged (boy)!!"

What We Did On Our Pre-Christmas Vacation

or catching my breath while catching up on old post fodder

Okay, so better late than never, right? That's my story anyway, and I'm sticking to it, dammit!!

As I've bemoaned for what seems like the entire freaking month of December, things got a little away from me. What with the vacation happenings, social obligations, Christmas Eve party prep ...I barely had enough time to imbibe let alone blog. (Waaa Waaa Waaaa. Don't you feel bad for me?)

Well I'm blogging now, BABY! And I'm not even getting any of it on my new shirt either. SCORE! (the term "blog" always puts me in mind of a colorful side effect of the flu. "Oy! I was so sick last night. I didn't get any sleep because I was blogging, like every half hour. It was nasty.")

Where to begin..

I'll try to make the telling of vacation events as brief as possible, but you know how verbose I am. Like right now. I should just shut up and spin a yarn or two, but no. I have to blather on and on and on...

Bottom line: this will take two posts, because the lovely blue-eye one is involved in not one, but two evenings and everything surrounding him stands alone. Naturally. I mean, come on. Look at him.

*Sigh*

Sorry. I'm back now.

That said...

Y'all know we had a harrowing travel day back to the Burgh told here. I seriously was doubting we'd arrive home much before April. But that's the end of the tale.

Part One: Our escapades began in earnest on Thursday evening at WYEP, crashing a private shindig meant to thank all the notable, big-money board members of the public station. Thanks to one wonderfully witty and talented Wesley Stace (aka John Wesley Harding, dashing, somewhat prominent pop star in the 90s) and the collective powers of Twitter and MySpace, I was able to procure two tickets to said soiree from the artist himself.

Thank you again, Mr. Stace.

I say that like he's even going to remotely read this. Yeah.

Anywho, as is the case with these events, hardly anyone in the room was familiar with the English lad's music save Geo, me, the DJs and a thin smattering of folk whom I suspect received the other set of tickets provided to Wes. As is our lot in life, we were the designated loud table in the back. I know. Shocking, right? Hey, somebody had to make a fuss so he didn't feel like he was playing to a roomful of crickets.

Wes was fabulous. Sprinkling humorous stories, as well as his utter and complete hatred of Sting, between tunes. He really hates Sting. I mean reallyreallyREALLY hates Sting. Very amusing. Then he treated us to a complete musical telling of the story of Hamlet, which is not recorded anywhere except an old DVD. Geo, being a HUGE fan of Hamlet, LOVED it!!

It was great fun being in the audience and meeting him afterwards. He is highly entertaining with a classic literary, sardonic English wit. Plus we kinda felt like those crazy, Facebook, White House gate crashers or two Jews busting into a restricted Country Club. Deliciously naughty. Just try to keep us out. Bwahahahahahahaha!!

Part Two: We drove across the big-ass state of Pennsylvania...in a snow storm...to Philadelphia and a rare Francis Dunnery concert at The Tin Angel.

We have loved Francis and his music forever. Five years ago, he chucked the club scene and started playing house concerts exclusively.

He plays his songs. In your house. For you.

How cool is that?! These evenings are incredible. Just him and his guitar in a living room. We've had the good fortune to attend four house concerts in complete strangers' homes. Everybody is so cool because it's all about him and his music. Even though Francis swears like a trucker, he emits a strong, positive vibe which envelopes those around him. His fan base is as devout as Rhett's. They're kind of two sides of the same coin.

This was the second time we've seen him at the Tin Angel. He considers the Angel his home (they supported him in the early days) and plays an annual show every December. Over the years we've gotten friendly with him and the incredibly caring, supportive people surrounding him. They could not be any kinder.

This photo's from Kate's house this September. She does all of his bookings. Tony there on the left is his loyal merch guy. The sweet, young thing under Francis' wing is his love, Erica. How about that. Both the guys I'm crazy about are emotionally bound to women named Erica.

Anywho, here are a couple of songs from his Philly show.

Living In New York City

Heartache Reborn

Holiday

Good Lord, this entry is Baby Huey HUGE. Okay, moving on quickly.

Part Four: (Parts three and five involve my fantasy honey and will occupy the next post) Geo and I dragged my sister, Weezy to Farleigh Dickinson University to partake in John Wesley Harding's Cabinet of Wonders...for free. Again, an event stumbled on through the power of the Internet (specifically Twitter) and from the horse's mouth the prior Thursday. Turns out Wes is an artist in residence at FDU, hence the location of the freebie.

The idea behind these Cabinets is to make book and poetry readings more interesting. To that end, he invites comedians, writers, singers and other artistic types to join him on stage to perform. Everybody gets about 10-15 minutes or two-three songs. Singer PT Walkley, comedians Todd Barry and Larry Murphy and two writers whose names I've forgotten participated.

Todd Barry was awesome mainly because he just riffed on the small crowd and the fact it was 2pm--the comedic equivalent to the ubiquitous Early Bird dinner. Larry Murphy was brilliant imitating Christopher Walken as his babysitter and Daniel Day-Lewis from "There Will Be Blood" in a skit Wes wrote about that character calling customer support. It was priceless! I'm such a boob. I should have recorded the skit to share. But, alas, I didn't. So I have to live with my misguided decision. But I did record some songs.

In My Room (sung in German)

There are more videos from both Francis and the Cabinet at FDU on YouTube. Feel free to watch them. Please. Watch them. I'm begging you. No I'm not. Yes, yes I am. No, really. You don't have to unless of course you want to. Please watch them. No. I kid. No pressure. Please do it...

Almost Friday Photo #1

WTF?!??

What fresh Christmas Hell is this?

Now this is the stuff of nightmares... and years and years and years of therapy. This little girl is destined to grow up to write a scathing tell-all about her wretched, boozy-floozy Mom and her diabolical plan to splinter her delicate psyche.

Seriously. Trailer Trash Barbie Mom... What were you thinking?! Did you not register the uber creepy factor of this Fright Night Santa? Was there no ICK factor red flag raised at the sight of his frightening forehead, because this cat would have sent me into convulsions. EWwwwwwww!! *shudder*

No shit.

He's just one step away from being a Killer Klown from Outer Space, and you all know how I feel about clowns spelled with a "c" or "k". PLUS he's wearing I-don't-want-to-leave-any-incriminating-prints-behind-while-I-chloroform-your-kid-and-stuff-her-in-my-white-panel-van gloves.

Good God, man! Who lets her little precious sit on the lap of this freak show.

But on the other hand, baby girl there looks pretty happy. So what do I know.

Happy Christmas y'all. May your day be freak-show free!

Do You Hear What I Hear?

or it must be Holiday Hootenanny time!!!

Okay, so people who say Public radio is boring are out of their flipping heads! We in Pittsburgh are blessed with THE BEST public station on earth.. 91.3 WYEP (www.wyep.org)

They play anything and everything (except gangsta rap and like, Lady Ga Ga crap thankyouverymuch). In one hour you could hear such new upstarts as Vampire Weekend, Fanfarlo, Bell X1 played next to old standards like Levon Helm, Bruce Springsteen, The Cure next to reggae-inspired Michael Franti and K'Naan. The set lists are inspired and inspiring. Their mission statement is "Where the Music Matters". No truer words were ever uttered by a company. This station is a life line to all of us who crave exposure to new artists, singer songwriters, world beat...pretty much any music that isn't cookie cutter, boy band, bubble gum pop. AND...it's blissfully commercial free. They stream live on their website. I encourage everyone to try it out. I promise you won't settle for anything else.

That said, for the last two years WYEP has put on a Christmas concert dubbed their Holiday Hootenanny. That evening worked wonders on my Bah Humbug, grumpiness last year which I wrote about here.

This year's Hootenanny was moved from the station's cozy but cramped studio to the much more lavish and spacious digs of the Pittsburgh Opera. The space accommodated over 400 festive folks.

It was phenomenal!!

The band, Silver and Gold, comprised of members from a number of local bands, kicked BUTT! They belted out such raucous greats as Springsteen's "Santa Claus is Coming To Town", Darlene Love's "Christmas, Baby Please Come Home" and a full on, rocking version of the Kinks "Father Christmas" as well as the quieter "Oh Holy Night", beautifully sung by the angelic Casey Corbin.

Anyone leaving this evening without the Christmas spirit firmly planted in their soul would have to have ice in their veins or be named Edward Cullen. (see what I did there? huh, huh... I worked in the whole popular, overused vampire thingie.)

This year my sister and I were accompanied by most of our Card Club gal pals. A fun time was had by all. And we all got to feel good about ourselves since the proceeds went to restock the local food bank. Double karma point score.

Here are some of the festive holiday tunes from the evening.

Baby, It's Cold Outside

Last year Sara was pregnant...I mean REALLY pregnant. Really, REALLY preggers. Like the baby's arm was practically hanging out and waving to us. He was born two weeks later. Anywho, she and her husband Scott sang this last year. She was swilling a martini and he was smoking a stogie. A funny visual.

Moving on..

Snoopy and the Red Baron (Christmas Bells)

This diddy was sung by two brothers from Mars. As in Mars, Pennsylvania. Seriously. We have a town named Mars. We also have a township named Moon. Luckily, no town named Uranus. Nobody wants to live in Uranus. Come on... Who would live in Uranus?

*giggle* you said Ur-anus...

Oh! Oh! Check this out! At :27 in, the one brother totally grabs his bro's tat and gives it a honk! No shit! Some suspect brotherly love there, no? Perhaps that's how they roll on Mars. "Merry Christmas! Honk Honk!"

Merry Christmas, Baby (?)

Local singer extraordinaire, Ben Hardt belts out a bluesy tune I think is called "Merry Christmas, Baby". If not, too bad. That's what I'm calling it now.

And then Quentin Tarantino showed up and blew the roof off the joint with his rendition of The Kinks "Father Christmas":

Father Christmas (by special guest Quentin Tarantino)

This song alone puts me in the proper Christmas frame of mind. Love those Kinks!!

There are a couple more songs posted on my YouTube site: "Santa Claus Is Coming To Town", "Blue Christmas" and The Pogues' "Fairytale of NY"--which coincidentally the lovely blue-eyed one sang with TV's Jill Hennessy at a bookstore concert we attended on vacation.

*le sigh*

Oh, you know that'll show up on a future posting. Be patient, my lovelies or at least be forewarned.

Anywho, I know I won't be back here before Friday because I'll be hip-deep in muck and mire preparing for the family soiree, so I would like to take this opportunity to wish you and yours a very Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Happy Kwanzaa or maybe just a Happy Friday, if you are so inclined.

In any case, may your day be filled with abundant love, laughter and loads of libation... Because sometimes it's the only way to get through family functions. I realize not everyone is as lucky as me.

Cheers!!

Help! I've Fallen (Into A Vortex Of Time Suck) And I Can't Get Up!
or when did the days shorten to 12 hours?!?

Okay, so WTF!?!

So much happened on our vacation which I'd like to share with all two of you, but I seem to have stumbled into some sort of Holiday Season Sinkhole (I said "hole") without a safety rope and have absolutely no substantial length of time in which to copiously write the mind blowing (aka, boring) details.

I'm still struggling to find time to export all the frelling.. er, I mean outstanding videos from our five concerts shot during one of the greatest vacations EVAH.

Y'all get that I'm a fan of hyperbole, right? So, yeah it's probably best to take what I say with a grain of salt. Don't rely on my disjointed ramblings to help you get off the extra Christmas meds. Speaking of meds, I could use one or ten about now. I'm slipping into my own Festivus frenzy, and may harm a garden gnome if I don't at least get a tall boy going here soon.

But seriously, entertaining things happened on vacation, but at this rate I'm afraid my peepee, bullet-hole riddled, peri-menopausal mind won't be able to remember the events. Details are already starting to fade. Plus, it's our turn to host the family Christmas Eve party, but the house is a nightmare of crap piles which are waxing instead of waning, there are parties and socials up the yin yang and then there's the whole "work" thing... I know daylight is getting shorter, but when did the actual 24 hour day get trimmed back by half?

AAaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahh!!!??!?!?!?!!!!

Okay, I feel a little better now. They're family and friends so they'll understand the mess, right? As long as we have the liquor cabinet stocked--Crap!! Now I have to fight the crowds at the State Store to load up on hooch. Son of a Bey-atch!

Anyway, this was supposed to be a small post explaining my absence, but I obviously got lost and turned the corner onto Bitch Fest Lane. Sorry. Clearly I need Felicity's help even in my mental travels.

Bottom line is ... once the madness is over, I got some tales to tell, y'all.

In Which I Share How I Really Feel About Winter...

Okay, so every December Geo and I trek across our big-assed state, headed for Jersey to visit with family and basically gad about the Big Apple to soak up the energy, ambience and ... uh, aromas of the greatest city in these United States. Last week was that week.

A great time was had by all. And by "all" I mean Geo and me, because I can't speak for anyone else really, even though I think all involved had a blast... well maybe not a "blast" per se, but a good time socializing and hanging. We saw concerts, shopped, ate, drank.. and did something I'm honestly a little embarrassed about that I will never tell you. EVER. Not even if I'm drunk. Let's just say afterwards I felt the need to visit the local distillery to sample whiskeys. And I HATE whiskey (which was confirmed by the tastings, by the way). My family made me do it (and I love them for it).

Moving on...

So we go to leave from my brother's place in the upper Hudson Valley when it starts to snow. Big flakes. Big, fluffy, stick-to-every-living-thing-on-Earth like roads, cars, eyelashes, road signs, thick-necked locals named Gunther, flakes.

We head off, get about 50 miles down the interstate and...

SCREETCH!!!

Dead stop.

Now there's kind of a mix of snow/sleet. Obviously an accident is being cleared up ahead. We wait... and wait... and wait.... and then decide to jump off at the random exit figuring Felicity, our English GPS girlie-girl, will guide us.

"Recalculating..."

We get to the next entrance to 287 and are greeted with a police barricade which forces us in yet another direction. *sigh*

"Recalculating..."

She does... right into another closed, accident-strewn road. *Grrrrrrrr*

"Recalculating..."

Now it's freezing rain, and we are Lord knows where in the northern mountainous region of Jersey trying not to slide head first into a ditch or McMansion. The good news is, as we go further south, the temperature is warming--slightly. The bad news is we can't seem to get the f*ck out of this f*cking town and back onto f*cking 287!

Now it's pouring rain.

"Recalculate this", you over-educated, snotty-nosed, pretentious Satellite Sister and get us the HELL HOME!!?!

But wait... Up ahead... can it be? Is it... an open entrance to *gulp* 287?!? Hallelujah Hollywood!! Hot Damn! We may actually get home before April.

So let's review, shall we:

We travelled through snow, sleet, freezing rain, ice and pouring rain over a three hour period and drove roughly 82 miles. Oh and let's not forget the cherry on the sundae--dense fog later on in our journey. Yea! Literally every conceivable winter weather event, condensed like a Reader's Digest Satanic Sampler, played out over the course of an afternoon in our little quest for home.

If I ever meet this Old Man Winter, I am going to kick him square in the nut sack with the pointiest of pointy shoes.

I hate winter already...

MMMMMMM... PIE

or Yes. They're real...and they are SPECTACULAR!

Okay, so every year at Thanksgiving I am asked, nay required, to bake two homemade lemon meringue pies for mass consumption at Big Mar's holiday table.

It's not that hard--that's what she said! You, too can wow your drunken, lame-ass family and friends. Fire up your printer, because I'm about to blow your mind by sharing our top-secret, passed from one generation to none, Luscious Lemon Pie recipe:

Lemon Meringue Pie

1 bottle of chilled Pinot Grigio or frozen bottle of Limoncello

4 Eggs

¼ Cup Cornstarch

1/8 Teaspoon Salt

1 ½ Cup Sugar

¼ Cup Flour

1 ½ Cup Boiling Water

2 Tablespoons Butter

½ - ¾ Cup Lemon Juice

2 Teaspoons Lemon Peel

First things first, one must always be in the proper frame of mind when one is cooking or baking. This is key if your culinary treat is to come out at all edible. Ergo:

1. Load up your CD player with your favorite tunes of the moment. Crank it up to eleven or just until your ears start to bleed.

2. Uncork the wine or Limoncello. Pour a healthy glass full. Consume. Repeat as needed.

Ready?

Bake pie crust as directed on package, unless you're a Martha Stewart wanna be and just HAVE to make your own crust, then you're on your own. Show off.

Separate eggs (they're notorious for not getting along), squeeze juice. (I said squeeze JUICE, not Judy! Sheesh!) In a non-stick pot, mix together sugar, cornstarch, flour and salt over medium high heat. Stir in boiling water gradually. Cook over direct heat, stirring constantly until thickened.

Refill your wine glass. Consume.

Beat yolks slightly (they don't seem to mind. eggs are kinda kinky that way) and stir in at least 1/2 of the hot mixture. (I usually only put about two spoonfuls in the egg yolk mixture because seriously, whose going to do this step. Really. I know, I know. This is so the yokes don't get all scrambly in the hot, sugary ooze. Yeah. Yeah. Whatever.)

Add yolks, juice, peel and butter. (I usually pour less than half of the juice in at first, then gradually add more as it is cooking. because honestly, sometimes there's just too much juice--That's what she said!!) Continue to cook, stirring until it is clear and thick. Add to cooled pie crust.

Time to Mering-gay, Baby!

Egg whites from the four eggs above (a reminder just in case you've been hitting Step 2 listed above an extra time or three and forgot)

1/4 tsp Cream of Tartar (whatever the hell that is. Really. What the heck is that? Tartar is, like plaque, isn't it? WTF?!? Who wants plaque in pie? Uh...you do, round eye.)

1/4 tsp of vanilla extract

8 tbsp of sugar

Beat egg whites (Holy Crap! ova are apparently the masochists of the food world) and the mysterious Cream of Tartar in your fabulous Kitchen Aid mixer.

Oh. You don't have one. So sad for you, Loser. You'll be working that hand mixer while the rest of us Kitchen Aid owners will have our hands free to refill and enjoy another lovely chilled glass of vino, chat on the phone and flip through a magazine while the mixer works its magic.

Add sugar, one tablespoon at a time until stiff peaks form. Add vanilla. Real vanilla. Not that cheap imitation crap. Mix one last time to infuse the essence of the individual flavors into the delectable white, sugary cloud of confectionery awesomeness known as Meringue. Slather onto previously constructed pie.

Bake for 10-12 minutes in a 400 degree oven. Voila!!

That ought to keep the little bastards all sugared up and happy.

There you have it. Nothing left to do, but fill your glass of hootch, unbutton your pants, grab a fork and dig in. You've earned it.

Happy Thanksgiving y'all!!