In the summer, summer, summertime of 2010 or, a Happy List Plus Five.

Summer's flying by so damn fast - how is it July already?
{But I'm not really complaining.}
So far, this has been one of the best summers I can remember - full of love, full of friends and full of transitions.

Here's just a few things that are making me smile in this "summer, summer, summertime."

- Quoting the only Will Smith song I like (see above line, and the title of this blog).
- Air conditioning.
- Boneyard on Sirius.
- Fantastic daytrips.
- Deck parties with friends.
- Walking after the sun goes down.
- Blasting my newly declared summer soundtrack, The New Pornographer's "Together" nonstop.
- Ice cream. Often.
- Hot dogs. Often.
- Concerts, concerts, concerts.
- Endless sunshine.
- Going over to the dark side as an iPod user.
- Happy days.
- Happy nights.
- And of course my favorite footwear:

"I want to know what love is."

The title of this blog is also the title of my favorite song from one of my favorite bands, Foreigner.
I remember hearing it as a youngster, how it swept me away, especially in its chorus:

"I wanna know what love is/ I want you to show me/ I wanna feel what love is/ I know you can show me."

and then there's this tasty stanza:

"In my life, there's been heartache and pain/ I don't know if I can face it again/ I can't stop now, I've traveled so far/ To change this lonely life."

Even during the handful of serious relationships I've had in my nearly 33 years, I still wanted to know what love is, which probably means I hadn't found the truest form of love, huh?

So what is love, exactly?
My Random House Webster's College Dictionary defines it as:

"a profoundly tender, passionate affection for another person, esp. when based on sexual attraction. a feeling of warm personal attachment or deep affection. a person toward whom love is felt. a love affair. affectionate concern for the well-being of others," etc, etc

Yeah, that really clears it up - not.

I think I'm ready to start defining love - my way.
- It's the way he looks at me.
- It's the way he holds my hand as he's driving, or I reach for his when I am.
- It's being so excited to see each other - every time we see each other.
- It's the way we're there for each other: to vent, to listen, to take care of, to be a sounding board.
- It's the way we make each other laugh.
- It's the way I feel when I'm near him, when I'm laying in his arms, when I'm looking into his eyes.
- It's hearing him tell me I'm beautiful, even when I don't feel it.
- It's him telling me how cute I am when I'm in my retched "Nikki-is-cranky-because-she's-hungry" mood.
- It's the smile I can't wipe off my face when I'm near him, talking to him or thinking about him.
- It's a million things that aren't going to make this list because there's not enough time or space on the Internet.
- It's hearing him say he loves me and having my heart swell every time.
- It's saying those three words and have them mean exactly what they're supposed to mean - for the very first time in my life.

Love isn't something that can be defined in a big old dictionary.
Love is a definition you come up with on your own - and it only took me 33 years to figure that out.

Just dance.

"I can't dance, I can't talk.
Only thing about me is the way I walk.
I can't dance, I can't sing
I'm just standing here selling everything."
~~ Genesis, "I Can't Dance"

Today was the longest day ever.
My best friend Johnny gave word that two of his friends were coming over for drinks, so as soon as I was finished at work, I sent the smoke signal to have a glass at the ready for me as I hightailed it to his fabulous haus.

Johnny is pretty much the most fabulous person I know.
Not only is he my BFF, he's a kindred spirit - one that I can discuss books and a million other things with and share my love of good libations.
He's also my fantastic date to many a thing since I'm always the one going stag, but more than that, he's just great to be around. Aside from my family, he's the only person who ever really helps me feel good about myself, and plus, he keeps a fabulously pristine haus that makes me regret my own somewhat uncleanliness.

By the time I got there, two bottles of wine had magically disappeared, and upon my arrival, three more - including a tasty homemade vino that was to die for - somehow found their way into the same black hole.

Instead of cracking open another bottle, we turned to our old standby, Stegmaier.

What followed next was inevitable.

A dance party.
Which is pretty miraculous considering I'm the worst dancer ever, something Johnny can attest, considering he's tried to teach me about a million times, including a two-step across his dining room tonight.

But enough about my shortcmings on the rug cutting.
Back to the dance party.
It included Murray Head's "One Night in Bangkok" and Cindy Lauper's "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun."
It included more than a few show tunes before morphing into Madonna - during which Johnny and I made up a routine to "Like a Virgin," "Like a Prayer" and an off-the-charts (if I do say so myself) "Vogue" - before ending with the ever-queenly Cher.

It was totally what this Tuesday ordered.

And I totally envisioned myself dancing amid "Gypsies, Tramps and Thieves,"

but it just might have been the booze talking ... never mind the routine we did during "Half Breed" and "Like a Virgin."

Some things are sacred, you know.

At my 14th Poison show ...

*Note: If you read my previous post about my eternal love for Poison, you will understand. If you did not, well, I went to my 14th Poison concert on Sunday, June 28 at the Toyota Pavilion at Montage Mountain in Scranton (or Moosic, if you will). We all have our own, how do you say, certain something, n'est-ce pas? What follows are the things that happened during that show, which also included openers Cheap Trick (who Poison followed) and Def Leppard).*

- I got to hear Def Leppard sound check "Hysteria" while people started lining up outside the gates.

- I got to go inside before the gates opened to hear and watch Def Leppard sound check "Two Steps Behind."

- While watching Def Leppard during said sound check, Poison bassist Bobby Dall got off a golf cart and walked right by me. I squealed internally.

- Went back outside to receive a backstage pass (pictured below) to meet Bobby because my editor interviewed him for the Weekender and was kind enough to let me tag along.


- Some random things I spotted before Cheap Trick went on: a guy in a long Cheap Trick jean jacket, a fanny pack with fringe and a skullet. And these were only the standouts. Imagine what else these Bambi brown eyes saw!

- After Poison's set, editor and I headed backstage, where we were told our passes were good until 9:15 p.m. and let into the backstage area without any sort of supervision. I promptly found a restroom to use because I was so excited I had to pee.

- Wandered around the buses and Def Leppard drummer Rick Allen walked by, to which editor said "Hey Rick" nonchalantly. We both squealed internally. Well, at least I did. Again.

- Poison guitarist C.C. DeVille walked past us. I said "Hi C.C." as nonchalantly as editor greeted Rick, like I see him in the hall at work every day. I squealed internally again.

- Editor and I wandered aimlessly around until we spotted an official looking dude in a Poison button-down shirt leading a few people to the dressing rooms area we saw C.C. disappear toward.

- We hang out behind them as C.C. comes out to greet them. He was wearing platform shoes and his hair was still all haphazard spiky, which all made him appear taller than he actually is.

- As we patiently wait our turn, we spot Def Leppard singer Joe Elliot and guitarist Vivian Campbell walking near their dressing rooms.

- When C.C. is done with those people, he looks at us briefly, walks back into his dressing room and slams the door. I say "Prick" internally.

- As we leave, the perpetually shirtless (and dare I say sexily ripped) Def Leppard guitarist Phil Collen wanders into the craft tent.

- We head toward said tent and find a very kind girl in a button-down Poison shirt who helps us find Bobby, who is with his 18-year-old son Zach and handler Rob.

- Editor tells Bobby his name and he immediately tells editor how much he enjoyed the article. Said he picked it up while walking past the Marquee Theater in Scranton from the hotel (they stayed at the Radisson Lackawanna, by the way).

- Editor introduces me and as Bobby shakes my hand, I blurt out “This is my 14th Poison show” and he laughs and wonders how many he’s been to.

- He was so friendly, appreciate and cool that he posed for this picture ...

... before asking another handler to lead him to Bret. (We heard from a very reliable source that Bret decided to show up to the show about half hour before it began. And that his bus pulled a trailer with his own image on it. This did not make me squeal internally. In fact, I daresay it made me like him a little less.)

- After Bobby left, we spoke to his son and Rob before heading back out into the crowd to catch Def Leppard's set.

What a fanflippingtastic way to celebrate such a momentous occasion!
Fin.

For Poison, who I will always always ALWAYS love.

On Sunday June 28, I will see my 14th Poison concert.
Yes, I said 14.
Some people followed the Dead. Phish. Bob Dylan.
Me, I follow Poison.

I fell in love with them 22 years ago, at the ripe age of 10.
I would roller skate in our laundry room and always stole a tape from my brother to rock out to in my alabaster white skates with fabulous purple bumpers.
One day that tape happened to be "Look What The Cat Dragged In."
I promptly fell in love with singer Bret Michaels, and I haven't looked back since.
{I've always been a sucker for blue-eyed boys.}

I can still draw a perfect Poison logo and I cannot, in fact, write the band's name without actually drawing said logo.
{For a long time, I actually thought about getting the logo tattooed on myself, but a desperate fear of needles put the kibosh on that particular dream.}

I've traveled to California and North and South Carolina to see the band.
Its music is my happy place, and it always will be.

My top 5 poison songs are as follows:
1. "Something to Believe In."
{Always reminds me of my beloved Pop-Pop who died in 1990, right around the time this song was huge, because of the line "You take the high road, I'll take the low road." That was our special saying.}
2. "Life Loves a Tragedy."
{My brother and I vowed long ago to make sure this is played at our funerals. God forbid.}
3. "Fire & Ice."
{It's such a fantastic break-up song that unfortunately fits my love life.}
4. "Good Love."
{One of my favorite Get It On Songs. That I've never actually Got It On to. Damn non-Poison fan exes.}
5. TIE: "Home (Bret's Story)." / "Let It Play."
{"Home" refers to the legendary Rainbow Bar & Grill on Sunset Blvd. in L.A., where not only Poison hung out, but Led Zeppelin, who is my ultimate favorite band. It was amazing seeing it as a fan and wannabe groupie. "Let It Play" is the epitome of how I feel when I listen to music in general, but Poison especially: "When I hear the music/ All my troubles just fade away."}

Times I've seen Poison:

1. Feb. 21, 1991 at the Kingston Armory, Kingston, Pa.
{Went with my brother and his girlfriend at the time. I had to keep my room clean for like three months for my mom to let me go to my first official concert.}

2. June 7, 1991 at Hersheypark Stadium, Hershey, Pa.
{Mommalah took me to this one, and yes, she is a fan.}

3. July 13, 1999 at Montage Mountain in Moosic, Pa.
{With brother and friends.}

4. July 6, 2000 at Montage.
{It was either this show or No. 3 or No. 4 that me, my brother and his friends ran down the rocky hill in the dark between the parking lot and the ski lodge and I fell off a wall into LA Guns' Bus and one of the members came out to see if I was OK. Good times.}

5. June 20, 2001 at Montage.
{With brother and friends.}

6. July 6, 2002 at Montage.
{This was the first time I finally met Bret, after spending $20 to join his fan club, which garnered me a brief, albeit nearly orgasmic, meet & greet. He signed my favorite album ("Flesh & Blood") with "Nikki, Something to Believe In, Bret." The picture is below. If you look hard enough, you can see the tears in my eyes.}

7. July 3, 2003 at the Universal Amphitheater in Los Angeles.
{We went to the Rainbow post-concert and saw a SLEW of rockers, except for my Poison boys.}

8. June 19, 2004 at the Verizon Wireless Amphitheater in Irvine, Ca.
{This was a most eventual concert experience for my brother, "sister" and I, but what happens in Irvine, stays in Irvine, thank you very much. They opened for KISS, my brother's favorite band on the planet. Stars within touching distance: Gene's kids Nick and Sophie and Shannon Tweed, Lance Bass, Kato Kaelin and Zakk Wylde, who incidentally, my beloved late dog was named after.}

9. July 23, 2004 at Montage.
{I went to this with Mommalah because she too is a mucho grande KISS fan.}

10. June 25, 2006 at Montage.
{Went to this with my former editor. Since I was at the Weekender at this time, I actually got to interview Bret, who told his publicist to give me passes so I could give him the article. Which he signed "Love & Poison, Bret." I also wrote a personal column about how much I loved the band - he signed that one "Love & Respect, Bret." I swoon every time I see them, which is every day because I have them framed in my home office. The picture is below. We totally look like a couple. I told Bret I'd be seeing them again in two months time and he said he'd look for me, which made me swoon, even though I knew it was just a line. }

11. Aug. 23, 2006 at the House of Blues in Myrtle Beach, S.C.
{Went with brother and "sister." This was the best Poison show because it was intimate, the band was really tight (never mind that two days later Bret and Bobby got into a fight on stage), and it was just fantastic. Also, it might be because Bret spotted me from the crowd - I WAS jumping up and down at the time during a particularly quiet moment - and gave me a shout out, saying "I remember you! I know where you came from!" True f'ing story, friendo. I may have cried. A pic from that show is below.}

12. June 17, 2007 at the Verizon Wireless Amphitheater in Charlotte, N.C.
{With brother and "sister" again. Third row, best seats I ever had. No flipping camera. Balls!}

13. Aug. 27, 2007 at Montage.
{With my BFF and other friends. The first Poison show I got completely shitfaced at.}

How fitting is it that "Look What The Cat Dragged In" played on Sirius' Hair Nation as I was finishing this?
That's flipping fate if ever there was fate my friends.

"She's a summer love in the spring, fall and winter. She can make happy any man alive."

Went the Frank Costanza route by creating my own "Serenity Now!" phrase.
Meant to:
- diffuse internal-self bombs.
- chant to myself to take me to my "happy place," if you will.

I tried the word "grasshopper" many moons ago, when I was mad addicted to "Kung Fu." But it didn't cut it, so I gave up.

Until now ...

I have decided upon "Sugar magnolia" as my "get happy" phrase.
If, yes, it does seem like I'm on a serious Grateful Dead kick, it's probably because I am.

After seeing the Jerry-less incarnation, The Dead, I really do feel changed.
{Almost like I'd love to do nothing with my life but follow the remains of the GD in this form, and any of its members' bands.}
Like a spark of self-awareness was lit.
Like now is the time to stop being my own worst enemy and start being me.

Something in me definitely opened, blossomed even - maybe it was all the second-hand pot I couldn't help but inhale but I digress. Since "Sugar Magnolia" is in my Top 5 All-Time Favorite Songs, what perfect phrase to capture my serenity? To take me to my happy place?

"Sunshine, daydream,
walking in the tall trees,
going where the wind goes
Blooming like a red rose,
breathing more freely ..."

The day of rest.

Home sweet home.
Blessedly in my jammies {the purple ones with glow-in-the-dark yellow smiley faces} listening to The Grateful Dead channel on Sirius.
Last night's show was I N C R E D I B L E.

About thisclose to slothing on couch to read the new Rolling Stone that was waiting in my overflowing mailbox this afternoon when I got home with one Monsieur Bob Dylan on the cover. Can't wait to read it - and see him in June!

Weekend was awesome - no cheesesteak, but oodles of other stuff that made me not even remember until now. {All the more reason to make a special trip, yes?}

Pictures and stories about my not-so-random weekend in Philly are forthcoming - too exhausted to wait for my slow-ass dial up.

I hope I don't give myself a nosebleed in excitement!

I have been so ugh all week - it's just been crazy busy.
{And I may or may not have been a teeny, tiny bit of a bitch today.}
But I am bursting at the seams in excitement for this weekend. I kind of resemble a 12-week-old Labrador puppy.

I'll be taking a gloriously rare day off on Friday and heading to the City of Brotherly Love - Philadelphia to non-Pennsylvanians.

I've only really been to the heart of the city twice, and for very short amounts of time, including one when I was in 8th grade.
I'm definitely much more of a New York City kinda girl. Don't hate.
{Speaking of hate, if I hear one person chant "E-A-G-L-E-S" I'll counter with a "S-T-E-E-L-E-R-S." We've got the six rings bitches!}

My weekend will consist of:
- The Dead at the Spectrum. I can feel so strongly that I'll hear my all-time favorite song "Sugar Magnolia" that my tooth hurts. And believe you me, I will dance like I'm dancing in a ring around the sun.

- A Philly cheesesteak. From Geno's because I will be ordering in English. And because it's been featured on every food show I've ever seen about Philly.
- A tequila bar - and its Southwestern wrap. {Of course I already cased the menu, what kind of foodie do you think I am?}
- Lewis & Clarke playing in a church which I am hoping I will have some sort of eye-opening transcendental epiphany that will change my life. If I don't, I think there may be no saving my soul. {Listen to them, you'll see what I mean: www.lewisandclarkemusic.com}

I hope it all plays out like I want it to.
I tend to have make events so much more spectacular in my head than they could ever be, meaning I expect a lot, and then kind of disappoint myself.
But knowing is half the battle, according to the old "G.I. Joe" cartoon I so loved as a tomboy.

If I get myself so excited, at least I have something(s) to be excited about, right? Some people don't let themselves look forward to anything.
I'm happy I can look forward to what I have planned - and what I don't.

Long shadows and gunpowder eyes.

Blasting Neko Case's "Middle Cyclone."
Despite its "long shadows and gunpowder eyes,"* it makes me happy.
Comforts me.

Just as I'm comforted by this day that is seemingly getting brighter than the dreary morn I woke up to.

The rainy day's drear
slowly drips from the wires
going house to house,
our only connection save
for a curt nod, or nothing.

* A delicious line from my favorite song on the album, "Prison Girls."

Someone kickstart my heart!

Spent weekend in Hershey, where I met up with my brother and "sister" for a Motley Crue concert.
Had a blast as we oft do on the rare occasions we are all together - drank too much, ate too much ... and it twas just what the doctor ordered.

Until I woke up mucho early this morning and high-tailed it from The Sweetest Place on Earth to my desk - in less than two hours.

Was fired up that my trip home was smooth sailing (read: not too many jerks on 81 for once), and set about my day. Petered out at about 2 p.m. and here I am - ready for bed at 6:23 p.m. WIMP!

Better change the "Kickstart" lyric from "When I get high I get high on speed" to "when I get high, I get high on sleep!"

"Someone call the Gendarmes!"

So we've established that yesterday, I was an absolute bear.

After feeling better after my tan, a good journal venting, and a nice toddy, I set off for bedfordshire.

Knowing I had to be up and out of the house unnaturally early this morning for an assignment, I had a restless night.

I was nervous that this would be the first time I'd miss my alarm, and was such a worrywarts I actually dreamed about missing my appointment!
(The dream involved a former coworker flying in from Florida to cover for me because I was sitting in my car trying to take pictures of wind turbines through the windshield. Uhh ... must have been the toddy ...)

So when my alarm did wake me up, I got up and got going and turned on my Sirius Satellite Radio - as I do immediately every morning.

What was the first song, you ask?
"Murders in the Rue Morgue" by one Iron Maiden.

Honestly, any day is automatically better when it's started with a little Maiden in the morning!

Book worm.

I'm always a little sad when I read the very last page of a new favorite book.

It feels like such a let down, so "Now what?!" especially when I've been so invested in the words - and world - of a damn good book.

I flat-out wept when I finished "The Historian." Elizabeth Kostova beautifully ended her amazing, suspenseful and sometimes frightening book with a humane look at Dracula. I sometimes flip through to page 676 (smelling the book first, of course, as I fan the pages out), read that final page, and still get goosebumps from the image I can so clearly see. Kostova writes:

"He looks not at all like a man in constant peril - a leader whose death could occur at any hour, who should be pondering every moment the question of his salvation. He looks instead, the abbot thinks, as if all the world is before him."

Stunning.
To write like that is a quest of mine every time I pick up a pen or set my fingers on a keyboard.
I want people to see the setting sun's light shining through the windows as Dracula pensively looks out over his domain. I want them to feel its warmth on their face.

"The Historian" was the first book in a very, very long time that I finished and immediately began rereading. The next book that I did that with came this week.

I received "Hammer of the Gods: The Led Zeppelin Saga" by Stephen Davis.



This delicious romp took me inside the world of my favorite band whose music I find so inspiring. They are so mythical and mystical, and I would give just about anything to have been able to roam the earth with them in their heyday.

Davis' style is fluid, and the tales he tells about the band's infamous lore runs the gamut from sex-laden escapades to Southern blues to black magic to the inevitable end.

Just like I knew the boat sank in "Titanic," I knew drummer John Bonham would die, and Led Zeppelin would be no more. But, again like "Titanic," I became invested in the band from a whole different plane.

Sure, I read the stories and even boast that I want to be the "mudshark girl" on my MySpace page, but as I read "Hammer of the Gods," Davis' writing tricked me into thinking that I wasn't reading about "the band that was," I was reading about a band that is.

I was there in the beginning, when Jimmy Page and Robert Plant sequestered themselves in Jimmy's house to get to know each other. I was on every American tour - more conquerings than tours, really. I was there when Jimmy met his 14-year-old concubine. I was there for every debauched step, every sip of booze and every cigarette inhale. Just like I walk in the foggy mystic and medieval world I picture when I hear the music, I was there with Led Zeppelin through every legendary step.

That's the beauty of a good writer - that's what makes a good writer - and that's the beauty of words.

"For such magic to succeed, it must tap the sources of magical energy,

and this can be dangerous."

William S. Burroughs "Rock Magic"

"I kissed a ..." Oh, shut the hell up already (and other random thoughts).

My mind is racing - in a good way - so here are some random thoughts I've got going on in this noggin of mine:

• I lit my favorite candle in the world tonight: Yankee Christmas Eve. It is delectable, and my apartment smells fantastic. I don't know why I am so drawn to it because my house never smelled like this as a child, but I find it so familiar and comforting. I'd burn it all year long, if I didn't burn the whole thing every holiday season.
• I am astounded by how much I loathe the following: 1. Spencer and Heidi, 2. Pete Wentz and 3. Katy Perry. Who the hell are these people and why why why do we care so much about what the hell they are doing!?

1. Spencer and Heidi: What exactly is there not to hate? His face, with that peach-fuzz 'stache and her always-agape mouth like she is just so surprised to see photogs capturing a moment they probably invited the photogs too? Please. Go. The. F. Away.
2. Pete Wentz: I loved "The Jungle Book" just as much as the next person, but Mowgli as a middle name? Seriously? Jerk. Yet I don't loathe Ashlee for being half responsible. And I just have to hate any man that can apply eyeliner better than me.
3. Katy Perry: Who decided to give this Betty Page-wannabe a record contact? Are we so hungry for girl-on-girl anything that we'll lap up an off-key song for the better part of a year? She is everywhere right now and reading about her in Rolling Stone every week is making me sick. She seems like such a dick.
4. Speaking of K.P., SNL did a wonderful skit about her, which included the line "I saw a boat and I liked it." The other day, the damn song got stuck in my head, but I mixed up the song and the skit and sang, "I kissed a goat and I liked it" to myself. It happened whilst I was brushing my teeth and I almost choked because I laughed so hard. Where do these things even come from??

• Having gotten all that off my chest, I must comment on how much I adore my mom's homemade iced tea that I bring home every Sunday mixed with Cabo Wabo tequila. It's like a little dash of summer right in my Stegmaier glass and cold apartment.
• Thanks in part to an addiction to the new Guns n' Roses CD, "Chinese Democracy," I've recently come off another to Sirius' Led Zeppelin Radio, and returned to my guilty pleasure: Hair Nation. God darn I love '80s hair metal! Long live devil horns, yowza!
• I have not started Christmas shopping yet, and it's making me nervous. I am so swollen with the holiday spirit (yes, I do realize how gross that sounds, but I can't stop saying it, here let me say it again: swollen with the holiday spirit. Ewww!). But as I was saying, I am just so excited about the entire holiday. I can't wait to wrap gifts (once I get them, clearly), write out cards and revel in my gorgeous lil' tree that looks exceptionally beautiful and bright this year.
• I think I am going to hang up this blog and move on to my journal, I feel the itch of putting a pen to paper, instead of clicking keys, sneaking up. Sometimes you just have to go back to basics, non?

I'm ready for AARP Magazine.

I always knew I was born too late.

Some of my favorite music is from my mom's era, like Led Zeppelin, Pink Floyd, etc, while some is music I know would make her late father, my beloved Pop-Pop, proud: Sinatra, Martin, Darin, Bennett.

Most of my favorite movies are old, and Steve McQueen is my most favorite actor ever.

I love reading classic books by classic authors: Kerouac, Capote and am currently reading "The Portable Dorothy Parker."

So it's completely natural that this old soul in a young(ish) woman would be drawn to my mother's AARP magazine.
I started reading it a few years ago and fell in love with the writing. It's so good, no, it's better than that, it's stellar.

It's a smart read for anyone, especially for someone around my age who has parents in the AARP age bracket. There is so much to learn about what to expect with their aging and I've seen some good financial tips (none of which I follow, which is stupid), and some of their people and area profiles are just great.

Case in point, this month's issue included a story about a New Jersey native, who couldn't wait to get out of the Garden State when he came of age, taking a trek down the coastline to places that I loved going on summer vacations, like Long Beach Island and Atlantic City and rediscovering his roots.

I highly recommend pilfering your parents' copy next month, if they subscribe.
If not, I won't charge you for this great Christmas present idea ...

A lone drifter.

There are certain songs that just "get" me every time.
"Goodnight Saigon" by Billy Joel. Tear.
"Wind Beneath My Wings" by Bette Midler and "Proud to be an American," ditto.
The church song "On Eagle's Wings?" I weep until there is nothing left.
Then there are the songs that make me yearn for romance - songs like "Beginning to See the Light" (especially when sung by Bobby Darin, swoooon) and "Slip Away" by Clarence Carter.
Let me first explain that I have become addicted to the standards, or "Great American Songbook" as Sirius is billing the Sinatra channel.
All the songs conjure up visions in my head of dapper gents and classy dames dancing the night away together at the Rainbow Room in Manhattan as they tip back martinis and everyone is a writer, poet, artist or musician. Can't you just hear the glasses clinking? Smell the smoke swirling up from the pearl cigarette holder?
One song stands out so much - the first time I heard it was on an episode of "Sex and the City," the one where Big moves to Napa. And from the first sweeping verse of "Moon River," I was hooked.
My favorite version is sung by Andy Williams. Last night I heard it while getting ready for bed and I stood in the doorway of my living room transfixed. My legs ached to be swept across a shiny dance floor by a man who thinks the sun rises and sets on my smile because we are "Two drifters off to see the world. There's such a lot of world to see. We're after the same rainbow's end-- waiting 'round the bend ..."
Ahh, a girl has to be unrealistic sometimes right?