Somewhere Over The Rainbow

Somewhere ooooooooover the rainbow, skies are blueeeeeeeeeeee.

Oh hi, sorry. I was just singing the song that inspired my guest post today. No, I'm not exactly over the rainbow, but I am guest posting for Lys from How Lucky We Are while she is in the process of moving closer to home.

In my post I talk about my brief stint as a city girl and how I was able to finally fully embrace my roots as a small town girl.

Head on over there and read the post, then tell me if you've ever had a "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" moment, or just sing the song really loud like I've been doing all morning; completely up to you.

I Want To Remember

I want to remember the way the sky was gray, overcast with bits of sun poking through the darkness here and there. The way the other colors seemed so bright against the grayness.

I want to remember the the scent of fresh air after a light rain mixed with chicken and pepper kabobs on a small charcoal grill. The delightful scent of apple pie as we passed around a mason jar of a homemade drink concoction.

I want to remember the sound of beer bottles clinking in a toast to a night of fun. The sound of our laughter as we caught up on life and played tailgating games like cornhole. The sound of dozens of car radios each playing different country songs combining to create a chaotic symphony as background music.

I want to remember the feel of the gentle breeze as it rolled in off the hills giving me goosebumps but warming my skin ever so slightly at the same time.

I want to remember the feeling of complete contentment to be in this place, in this moment, with these people.

I want to remember dancing around, singing at the top of our lungs, and being bent over in half clutching our sides from laughing too hard.

I want to remember every single emotion that was behind this snapshot of a perfect summer night.

The Summer of Me

Back when I decided to unapologetically embrace myself, I decided that this summer was going to be different. While I have always loved summer, for the most part summers have become like every other time of the year. Over time my favorite season lost some of its magic, the appeal that made me feel as if I didn’t have a care in the world and that I had completely exhausted myself using every last fiber of my being to revel in the splendor of it all. . I stopped fully enjoying all summer had to offer and instead managed to squeeze what I could in the 48 hours the weekend provided me. Sure it was still fun, but there was still something missing.

In May I unofficially declared it the Summer of Me. I was determined to pack every ounce of fun I could into this summer. I told myself I was only going to do what made me happy, not let myself be pulled into 110 different directions of what people thought I should be doing or how people thought I should be acting. I was going to attempt to recapture some of the magic of summer. Sure I have a full time job and can’t just spend the entire afternoons meandering around town on my bike playing kick the can with my friends, but I can go out with friends and have a spectacular time doing things we enjoyed when we were younger.

This summer has found me riding in a paddle boat with my best friend, seeing how close we can get to the big fountain in the middle without getting wet (and failing miserably). Its found me playing miniature golf at twilight shaking my head with laughter at the realization my game has not improved with age. I’ve played laser tag in black light with a bunch of 14 year olds who thought it was cool that an “adult” would still want to play such a game. I’ve spent countless evenings and many afternoons on my deck simply reading and soaking up the sunshine. I’ve gone to some great outdoor concerts with my friends where I didn’t worry about how late I stayed out. My mom and I have spent several Saturday’s or Sunday’s in Pittsburgh wandering through the cultural district, enjoying brunch at a little outdoor café, just taking in the sights and sounds of a city we don’t spend nearly enough time in all before taking in a play. I’ve gone to a midnight viewing of the latest Harry Potter movie and out for dessert afterwards, just because I could.

While at the four day event last weekend, a friend inquired about plans for the next few months. I rattled off another handful of concerts, trips to visit dear college friends, dinners with acquaintances I haven’t seen in a long time, possible weekend road trips still in the planning stages. Her reaction was, “Wow, don’t you ever stop?” There are plenty of evenings I do nothing but unwind, but there are some evenings where I don’t get home and fall into bed until well after midnight. Does it leave me exhausted? Of course it does, but that’s what summer’s supposed to be about. Living with such an intensity and vigor that you use up everything and start over again the next day. As July draws to a close, I am happy to say that I have enjoyed just about every minute of this summer and am looking forward to the next few with excited anticipation. I am squeezing everything I can into the next few months and there is so much more that I want to do, even if its as simple as not doing anything at all with my best friend.

I was so excited and happy to see another blogger friend declare the Summer of Her starting yesterday. A few of you others have unofficially declared it the Summer of You in your own ways possibly without knowing it. So if you haven’t yet, what are you waiting for? Get out there and recapture the magic of summer for yourself!

Let That Igloo Cooler Mark Your Piece of Paradise

There's a line in the lastest Rascal Flatt's song that states "Let that cooler igloo cooler mark your piece of paradise" which can pretty much sum up my four day concert weekend. I'm currently struggling to find the words to describe the event.



It was all sorts of wonderful and amazing. For my friends and I, its not just a fun concert; its a tradition. Something that we look forward to year after year, where we can go to just forget all of our responsibilities, drink entirely way too much, and have a grand time without worrying about anything (other than making sure there is cold beer). I have many fun memories and have met a lot of fun people. For the majority of the time, the music takes a back seat to socializing. There is catching up with old friends, making new friends, shot gunning beers with complete strangers, posing for pictures with people you won't remember and laughing over fun sights. Its the sort of place where anything goes -- this year there was a man walking around in a full gorilla suit, guys walking around in dresses, and men wearing inflatable fat suits and its all ok. Seeing Santa Claus and the guy with the watermelon on his head are commonplace and if you don't see them, you worry.





This year in addition to attending the event, I also worked the event. And by work I mean I sat in a camp chair drinking screw drivers, free beer, eating free gyros (gotta love vendors) and sometimes making sure people had the right pass to get to a designated area. Working the event this year not only gave me a free four day band (and paid) but allowed me some fun moments like seeing Big and Rich tooling around in a golf cart complete with horn that played "Dixie" and actually exchanging a few words with Toby Keith. (Sorry no pics, it was one of the stipulations in the work contract.) It also meant having the opportunity to witness a beautiful sunrise over the hills (something I almost never get to see) and slumbering campsites while the sounds of John Denver's "Thank God I'm A Country Boy" filled the crisp morning air. It was simply stunning and incredibly peaceful, which isn't a feeling one usually has the chance to experience at such an event.




For the most part the acts were great. Big and Rich, Allen Jackson, Toby Keith, Neal McCoy all put on kick ass shows and rocked the entire place. Its always fun when the audience of 150,000+ people sings the songs back to the artist, raises a beer to toast America's military, and just dances while having a fun time. It rained for about a half an hour on Friday which one would assume would send people running for their cars, canopies, or anything else they could use to get out of the elements. Not here -- rain ponchos, tarps, and garbage bags are used and the dancing, singing, and drinking continue. Rain in no way puts a damper on things and usually results in a muddy slip and slide.

The four days went by entirely way too fast and my friends and I had a lot of fun. There were fun memories made, some things we won't claim or own up to and posed for lots of pictures. The show ended on Sunday with us being thoroughly exhausted, needing to dry out our livers, with hoarse voices, and counting down to next year.



And because I am a committed blogger I bring you these pictures:





















You're thinking so what, its a bathroom. NO its not just a bathroom!! The pergo flooring, the black pedestal sinks with running water, faux marble walls (complete with artwork), sleek black commodes that flushed were in a portajohn--a rich people, VIP, too important to even think about using a standard run of the mill non-flushable portajohn. Of course, I pretended I was one of these people and actually got away with it for four days because of my employee wrist band. It made the overall experience much more pleasant and enjoyable. (Don't judge me, I was impressed and obviously it doesn't take much.)

Now who's going to come to the event next year with me?

Summer in NOLA

Many thanks to Nora from Waking Through the Rain for writing today's guest post while off on her own adventure. Nora is one of the most sincere and genuine bloggers out there.


While Mandy is off enjoying four days of country music, I'll be finishing up a work trip in New Orleans. This is my second time here in the last 16 months and while the effects of Katrina are still visible in parts of the city (many of the houses along the I-10 swamp are half in the water, porches are collapsed, houses and other buildings are still abandoned or in the process of being refurbished), the spirit of New Orleans is very much alive.

Take a walk in Jackson Square, just a block away from the Mississippi River, and you'll find dozens of street vendors: Palm Readers sitting under pink feathered tents; Psychics in camp chairs charging only $10 for a question; a man with a giant tuba wrapped around his sun-drenched shirt; several artists selling their wares for reasonable (and not so reasonable) prices; tap dancers, horse carriage rides and much, much more. The colors are vibrant and you can almost ignore the oppressive heat that makes it hard to breath and negates any shower/deodorant/perfume attempt you may have made. Walk into any bar to cool down and they'll be happy to give you your drink in a "to-go," cup so you can continue to meander up and down cobble-stoned alleys, past Faulkner's Book Store, past a bar that serves Absinthe (yes, it's legal!), all while sipping on the infamous New Orlean's Hurricane.

If you want the Hurrican experience, head to Pat O'Brien's, home of the original and best Hurrican in the City. For $11 you'll get a "tourist" glass full of Cruzan Rum and hurricane mix. And a really, really great buzz that will give you just enough courage to follow a Haunted Ghost Tour Guide around the French Quarter for two hours, ignoring the sweat, the fact that your feet hurt and that yes, you are indeed terrified out of your mind.

Every where you look in New Orleans there's a book store, antique store, Mardi Gras bead store, Voodoo Shop and of course, a drink stand. There are remants of glitter engrained in the brick and stone sidewalks, even stuck to sewer manholes. The city is incredibly beautiful: many porches are lined with white lights and hundreds of flowers; the colors of the houses are unlike those in many other parts of the United States; historic landmarks dot every corner and block you walk down; and of course, most beautiful of all if you are here in the summer, the gusts of air conditioning you feel as you walk past the many shops in the French Quarter.

Bourbon Street is, of course, always a party where beads are as common as pennys, stumbling drunk men are a permanent fixutre and if you are there for more than five minutes, some girl is likely to flash her boobs even though it's not officially Mardi Gras. It's a party street and that's all there is to it.

The restaurants are like no other place that I've visited. They pack people into every nook and cranny (I suppose they have to since space is limited here), the waiters all have voices as smooth as honey, and the service is impeccable. I haven't been able to eat a lot of the food due to my stupid allergies (and of course tree nuts and seafood are big here) but it smells wonderful and looks amazing. Red beans and rice are just as delicious as I thought it would be and the French Bread is simply mouthwatering. Oh, and the chocolatier shops! Try a triple chocolate truffle. Worth every penny (one truffle is about $3).

To me, New Orleans embodies what summer is all about: impromptu music in the lovely gardens, walks along aged streets with antique stores, bookshops that make me want to spend my entire paycheck, stealing smooches from Irish in the shade, and soaking up the local culture and color. (And, taking lots of showers while in New Orleans. Lovely town, not so lovely weather.)

What's your impression of one of the cities you have visited this summer?

Fish Out Of Water

This post comes by way of Lys from How Lucky We Are, who is a fabulous blogger friend who writes some of the most thought -provoking, completely honest posts in my Reader. She is also an amazing photographer.


I’ve always listed people watching as a hobby of mine. For as long as I can remember, I’ve always been fascinated by facial expressions, body language, hand gestures, different walking gaits, outfits and clothing, and human interaction in general. When I moved to New York a year and a half ago, I pretty much hit the jackpot. I would go into the city to meet my boyfriend after work, and while I was waiting in front of his building, I would watch everyone that passed by. The after-work crowd is especially interesting because it’s a challenge to find someone who’s expressing anything other than fatigue, irritation, hurriedness, or loathing at everything around them. The long faces were so abundant that when even one person in one hundred passed by with a smile or a lighter step, they shone so bright, it was hard not to smile in the renewed hope that maybe the human race (at least in New York) still might be okay. There were only so many depressed I-need-to-get-home-before-I-kill-someone gazes I could take, however, so I turned to my neighborhood for new faces.

My neighborhood in Queens is mostly comprised of elderly Greek women and men whose favourite pastimes include smoking 8 packs of the stinkiest cigarettes they can find as fast as they can, yelling across the streets at each other in conversation, and congregating in front of shops and on street corners with lawn chairs and Chinese checker boards while gossiping about their grandchildren and arranged marriages. There’s only so many groups of these people you can come across before you become numb to them, so after a while I just stopped looking. Then, as I was walking home from the train one day a few months ago, I noticed a man standing on the corner of my street who I’d never seen before.

If I were to describe him as a sea captain, that might be enough, but I want to make sure I paint a clear picture. It was as though he had been ripped straight out of a book like Moby Dick or some children’s book on captains and fishing. He had the classic thick, tapered silvery beard and curly moustache, wrinkled leathery face, thick hands, and long stout sea-legs. The first day I saw him, he was wearing a yellow rain jacket with navy trim, matching navy rain boots, a yellow rain hat, and he was slowly smoking a long, dark wooden pipe. The best part about this whole scene is that it wasn’t raining, though it had been earlier, and he was just staring off into the distance with a dreamy look on his face. All he needed to complete the picture was a peg-leg.

Every other time I come across him or pass him on my way out or returning home, I can’t help but believe he is the epitome of the ocean. He just looks so out of place on land. He always wears nautical style clothing, from deck-shoes to white and navy striped polo shirts, from white linen pants to navy jackets with brass buttons. And he’s never without his long, curvy pipe, a little trail of sweet smoke curling from beneath his moustache. Occasionally he’ll have his cap under one arm, but it’s also nautical, being either navy with brass trimmings or white with navy trimmings. I would love to get a picture of him, but I’m always in such awe of his silent, calm, attentive demeanor that I forget about everything else. If I walk close enough to him, I swear I can smell the salt and hear the waves crashing on the rocks, the seagulls screaming at each other, and a wonderful sense of rolling along on the open sea flows over me. It’s unlike anything else I’ve ever felt while admiring someone from afar.

Maybe I’ll pick up the courage to shake his hand or smile at him someday, and maybe I’ll ask to take his picture, but even if it doesn’t happen, at least I was able to experience the ocean in a way I never thought possible.

Is there anyone in your neighborhood that you wish you could meet or that strikes something in you every time you see them?

Heading to the Hills

I'm riding off into the sunset (or the hills more accurately) for the rest of the week. I'll be attending a four day outdoor country concert event with my friends where my biggest responsibilities will be making sure the beer is the cold and remembering where the cooler is parked. There will be ridiculous shenanigans, catching up with people I don't see on a regular basis, singing too loudly and most likely off key, and being reminded of what happened the night before by looking at pictures on the digital camera the next day. I am planning on enjoying the moment, making memories, and having a great time. Oh, and listening to some fun music. The weather is supposed to be fantastic, maybe even a little on the chilly side in the evenings. To say I am ridiculously excited is a bit of an understatement. Here's to fully living in the moment (at least for the next few days)!

I have a few fabulous bloggers lined up for your reading pleasure. Please leave them some love for writing their posts on short notice.

Cheesy Chicken Lasagna

I cooked and blogged about it! I know its been a while since I've shared a recipe on the blog, but they are coming. In the summer I would rather be outside enjoying the evening instead of in the kitchen cooking. Thats where my guest post for Maris over at In Good Taste comes in, I took a stuffed shell recipe and made it into a lasagna (because really who wants to be inside stuffing shells while your friends are out on the deck drinking and playing games). Stop over and check it out!

Ohhhhh Mandy

In 1975 a virtually unknown singer/songwriter/composer from the Bronyx burst on to the music scene. His first number one hit was played over and over again, by a sixteen year old girl from the country, on a record player so large it was a piece of furniture itself. She and her younger sisters would dance around the living room to the smooth sound of the artist's voice. That sixteen year old swore if she ever had a daughter, she would be named after that very song. Five years later I made my grand entrance into the world and was given the name Mandy. Not Amanda (like so many other baby girls born in the late 70's/early 80's), just Mandy. Had it not been for a Jewish man from New York, I'd now be known as Heather or Heidi or some equally autrocious name (no offense to any Heather's or Heidi's out there) that when combined with my last name would be an alliterative nightmare.



I've grown up listening to Barry Manilow's music, I am sure I absorbed it in utero and I own almost his entire collection (some of it in the form of vintage vinyl that belonged to my mom as a teenager). My grandmother has always thought concerts are a frivolous waste of money so my mom and I experienced our first Manilow concert together when I was probably 12 or 13 years old. Over the years, its been our thing to go see his show any time its with in a few hours of home. The shows have ranged from big Vegas show style productions; shows with a full orchestra elevated on risers on stage; to shows with just him, a piano, and a small band backing him up. I've heard him sing his hits, covers, and new pieces that have never been released on an album. I've never left a concert without feeling completely fulfilled in a way that only seeing live music can fulfill you. While Barry Manilow is really an amazing composer, arranger, and singer, at his core he is an entertainer.

These days Barry Manilow has a long running show in Las Vegas and rarely tours. Occasionally when he as a few week break from the Vegas act, he takes the show on the road for one night arena shows. On Monday, his Ultimate Manilow show came to Pittsburgh's Mellon Arena. My mom and I have had tickets for months, purchasing them the day the became available. The show was as always fantastic. I lost my voice singing along too loudly to classics such as "Copacabana" and "I Write the Songs." I soulfully clutched my glowstick as a microphone while singing "Ships in the Night." When the first few bars of "Mandy" wafted through the arena, my mom leaned over and whispered "this is your song!" Hearing his music, the way he plays and interprets it never gets old. From the first strains of the overture to the final note of the last encore (and there are usually many) Manilow's shows are always an incredible experience.

One of the most amazing things about his show isn't anything to do with the show itself but rather the audience. Women who range in age from somewhere in their 80's to little kids. At the show on Monday I saw generations of women from the same family. Groups of women around the same age all friends, perhaps sisters. A group of college aged women wearing homemade shirts that spelled out MANILOW. Sure there were a handfull of men too. But all around us my mom and I were surrounded by mothers and daughters who like ourselves have seen multiple shows, have many fond memories, know all the words to just about all of his songs, and yet still keep coming back for more. I love the fact that my mom and I both have a deep admiration for this man and his music. It really is something she's passed on to me, not just in the form of my name.


* Yes, those glowsticks were from the show on Monday night.

** No the FANILOW license plate is not mine, but you bet I came home and looked it up online to see if it was available in OH. Its not.

*** I may or may not have ordered a couple of the Manilow license plate holders. Or four so my mom could have a set too.

**** Don't judge me, after all the man did give me my name.

Heal the World

My mother watched the evening news tonight exclaiming "I've had it up to here with this circus and all the Michael Jackson coverage, enough is enough. He was a freak." I couldn't disagree with her more.

I wasn't able to watch the Michael Jackson memorial service on tv or streamed over the internet but I did watch bits and pieces online earlier this evening. The person remembered by athletes, actresses, musicians, family members, and his own daughter was a kind, caring, "one of a kind" larger than life person. You can't fake the sort of emotions that were shown during the memorial service.

I know people tend to have strong opinions one way or the other about Michael Jackson. My mom's generation had Elvis, My generation has Michael Jackson. I don't expect her to feel the same way I do. She remembers the trials, the charges against him, and the way the media has portrayed him.I grew up listening to his music on cassette tapes in a portable boom box, spent sleepovers dancing to Thriller, and sang The Man In The Mirror with a friend for a grade school talent show. I remember watching the We Are The World video which included so many other artists and being in awe that one song could bring so many people together for a cause.

This is one of my favorite videos from today's media coverage. This is what I want to remember. I thought it was absolutely beautiful and inspiring. Just watching it gives me goosebumps.

“In a world filled with hate, we must still dare to hope. In a world filled with anger, we must still dare to comfort. In a world filled with despair, we must still dare to dream. And in a world filled with distrust, we must still dare to believe.” ~ Michael Jackson

Favorite Things of Summer Giveaway Winner

Thank you all for your comments on the summer giveaway post. They all certainly helped me get into the spirit of summer.

The winner as provided by Random.org (I used numbers 1-38, one for each comment), is Ashley from Writing To Reach You! I used her comment in my last post but its so perfect, here it is again: "My favorite thing about summer is that I always have this unreasonable hope that my life is going to get exciting and movie-like for 3 months--that I'll be swept away--and even though it never happens, I always have the hope."


Ashley, please send me your address and I'll get your box out to you soon. I hope you all continue to enjoy your favorite things about summer!

Until I Can't Keep My Eyes Open

Recently I finished a book that used the phrase "we went from sun up until we couldn't keep our eyes open anymore" in regards to how they spent their summer days. I find it absolutely brilliant. That's exactly how each and every one of us should spend our summer. Judging from the comments on my summer giveaway post we're all having a love affair with summer, but perhaps Ashley puts it most eloquently when she said: "My favorite thing about summer is that I always have this unreasonable hope that my life is going to get exciting and movie-like for 3 months--that I'll be swept away--and even though it never happens, I always have the hope." Thats how we should approach summer -- like its going to be magical and movie - like, completely swept away by the sheer joy of it all.

I've been thoroughly enjoying this summer; soaking up every last drop until I can't keep my eyes open any more. I have enjoyed this summer far more than other summers and the fun has literally only just started. There will be outdoor concerts with friends and fantastic road trips with the promise of more on the horizon (hopefully involving some blog friends). I'm not even kidding when I say that up until two days ago my biggest worry was how I was going to make the midnight viewing of the new Harry Potter movie while attending a huge four day outdoor country concert with my friends (Thankfully, I had the wrong release date so it will all work out in the end). I want my summer to include making fun new memories with my friends, just savoring every last second of this season.

In the past two days alone I've put over 700 miles on my car, spent more money than I had intended, and laughed over fun things like seeing an Amish man singing karaoke with my mom. We drove across the state, visited the KitchenAid Factory, learned how to make an amazing peanut butter pie during a cooking class demonstration, and ate entirely way too much delicious homemade Amish food. (I'll post about them as soon as I figure out how to get the pics from my camera phone to my computer.)

I'm going to spend the next three days with my closest friends relaxing on the lake, enjoying grilled food and probably drinking too much alcohol. There will be boating, multiple fireworks shows, bonfires and quality time spent with loved ones. I plan on going until I can't my eyes open and then doing it all again the very next day, which is my wish for all of you this summer holiday weekend.

Have a Happy 4th of July!!

Walking Through the Rain

Today I am guesting posting over at the fabulous Nora's place. Stop on over there and tell me what blogging has done for you!

(Have you entered my summer giveaway yet?)