A father and his curly haired, little girl stopped in the rain to fill the old truck with gas. He pulled into to the tiny station and fueled up while she waited in the passenger seat, fascinated with the tiny water droplets on the windshield. She made a game out of watching which drop would trickle to the bottom of the windshield without getting cut off by the wipers. Soon, the game had rules, each drop had a name and was on a team, and she was the announcer, just like on TV. Her dad opened the driver’s door wide enough to poke his head in and say, “Wait here sweetie, I have to pay.” The little girl unfastened her seatbelt as she cried, “Daddy, I want to come too!” She was already halfway out the truck before her father had a chance to protest. He reluctantly shut his door, walked around to meet his daughter, and together they ran through the rain to the shelter of the station. At the counter, he asked for a pack of cigarettes and hastily handed cash to the clerk. With several more

A recent gift from my best friend, Deb, inspired me to walk down memory lane and recall an entire category from my childhood that helped shape my personality, imagination, and creativity. There is a whole list of movies and TV shows that I remember with fondness and nostalgia. They introduced me to characters who were as dear and important to me as those in real life. They gave me familiarity and comfort, and to this day I squeal with delight when I see them on PBS, re-runs, or in a two dollar bin at a going-out-of-business video rental store. First I remember Anne-with-an-"e"-Shirley. Oh, you imaginative, spacy, red head, how I've missed you. My sisters, mother, and I watched her get in and out of shenanigans on lazy Sunday afternoons during PBS fund-raisers. And they always took breaks to sell that adorable porcelain doll that I always wished I could buy. Of course, we can't forget Ramona Quimby, the awkward little who I remember identifying with as the younger

Not every day is full of excitement and adventure. Some days, most days, are just regular days. Wake up, go to work, do some laundry, make some supper, watch TV, and go to bed. Maybe a few times a week I have something out of the ordinary to prepare for or look forward to, but to be honest, that usually involves a large amount of stress. The other day, I had a quick accompaniment job and I knew Eddie was preparing a delicious seafood dinner while I was gone. On top of that, an unopened Netflix movie lay next to the TV. And I realized, I was looking forward to that night more than any other night in a very long time. We hear songs on the radio and hear people say, “It’s the simple things in life…” all the time, but as I took a moment to think about my life and the things that really made me happy, I realized little treasures were all around me.

If anyone is keeping track, it's late. I know. But I have a good excuse. I was moping. I shot up in bed this morning at 5 am with the distinct feeling of panic. Suddenly my mind rushed with worries of finances, goals, and my uncertain future. I went to the computer having made the decision that I need a steady job. Music gigs are not as reliable as I need them to be. As I searched all the career sites, I thought, "I went to college, I was in the Army, you'd think I'd be qualified for something , right?" Not so much. Two to five years experience required for everything . I have two to five years experience of nothing except music and Army. And let's face it, no one understands what goes on in the Army, so they don't know what I am capable of in the civilian world. I ended up applying for clerical and office assistant positions - a fancy word for receptionist and secretary, the kind of stuff I did in high school as a summer job. So, feeling rejected and d

“How do I get into these situations?” That’s what I asked myself last night as I worked my tail off playing every “show-stopper” song I had in my repertoire. Somehow, I wound up in a Russian bar in Brooklyn playing for tips. I agreed to play for tips because I’ve never had too much trouble bringing them in before, especially when I bring my list and people start making requests. I quickly found out that a tough-looking, Russian speaking crowd doesn’t sing along and break out the 20's when a Billy Joel or Eagles song comes on. My song list carries a wide enough variation in styles, that I can always find a song to please every crowd, however I guess I neglected the all-Russian crowd. I decided to use the evening as an opportunity to rehearse some songs that I’ve never done before. Ever since we moved to northern NJ, I’ve been fascinated with the song “Lodi” by CCR and as I played it in front of a crowd for the first time last night, I decided it’s my anthem. Especially the

I mean, really! Let me list just a few of the timeless classics that name the object of ones affection in the chorus: “Amie” by Pure Prairie League, “Hey There Delilah” by Plain White Ts, “Jolene” by Dolly Parton, “Bobby McGee” by Janis Joplin, and TONS more. Well my friend, I am here to offer you the deal of a lifetime – your very own song, professionally recorded, on a real live album. The catch you may ask? NOTHING! …except fifteen thousand dollars. But other than that, NOTHING! All you have to do is go to this website: www.sellaband.com , type in Elizabeth Grimes in the search box, and click Fund this Artist 1500 parts. This will fund 75% of my album (production, mixing, engineering, photography, distribution, etc.). And once 100% of my goal is reached, I can record a top notch, grade A, music industry standard album that will most certainly propel my career to new heights. On this album, should you choose to fund 1500 parts, will be a specially written song, in your honor, wi

Two heads are better than one, a good theory but one that took me a little while to admit its’ truth. When I was single, I had to figure everything out: bills, cell phones, apartments, car payments, maintenance and moving. I didn’t mind it because let’s face it, if you want something done right, it’s best to just do it yourself. After I got married I held onto this attitude for a while. But once I started to give in, I found it remarkably comforting that I didn’t have to worry about everything all the time. It started small, pawning off the cell phone service to Eddie to figure out. Gradually it became more and more until we bought a house, and then it was really handy to have a partner help figure all that out. Lately I’m discovering that even more reassuring than help with money issues and moving the furniture, is the small things that I appreciate the most. For the last 3 months, I’ve been alone, traveling in and out of the city, dragging bags of sheet music, microphone stands,