PLAIN AND SIMPLE/May-June Blog

I could never be a singer. It's not that I can't sing. It's just that when I'm really touched by beautiful music, nothing comes out of my mouth.

When I was a senior in college I had to take Choir. I loved it. It was the first time I learned and sang The Hallelujah Chorus. We worked all semester on it. Now I know most people have sung this beautiful masterpiece, but growing up in my small a cappella church, I don't ever think I had heard it before, let alone had the opportunity to sing it in a big group with great singers. So, here we all were, standing on a riser singing Handel's most well-known and beloved piece in front of about a thousand people. We were ready. The intro played and then the first word came . . . "Hallelujah . . . "

That was the only word I sang. I broke down in tears, it was just so magnificent to me. "King of Kings, and Lord of Lords . . . and He shall reign forever and ever . . ."

So when Jane (from Gilman, Iowa) walked up to meet me in my driveway the second night of The Living Room Series and she couldn't speak, through her tears I got it. I call it The Sisterhood. My new sister Jane. We embraced and I knew we'd have a chance to catch up later in the evening.

The concept of The Living Room Series was a dream come true. Honestly, we went on sale a year in advance, not knowing if anyone would even come. Obviously, it was a hit and the whole thing gave both Tim and me a boost of confidence that we really needed.

We started to physically work on everything in March. We had three months to make our place beautiful. The weather was nice enough to start scraping the gardens, so when the sun was out, we were out. I made a set list of what I'd perform and started to play the music in my head and hands when I was in the gardens. When I wasn't sure about things, I'd go inside and sit at the piano, play the music and then go back outside. 

In April the gardens were clean so we took on bigger projects. We decided to paint a "few" things. First we'd paint the trellis in the shade garden. I painted the sides and Tim got on the ladder and painted the top. Because of the rain it took us the entire month. Next it was time for Tim to start hedging so I painted the dock. While he trimmed and edged, I stained our three garage doors, the entry gate door, the outdoor kitchen cabinetry and then I spray-painted an old bench where my guests would sit when they arrived.

Another month had passed. It was now May. Tim turned the dirt and the earth was warm enough for planting, so I spent the next week installing the 700 flowers we had greenhoused all winter. While I was in the dirt, I started memorizing the show and thinking of all the stories I wanted to share with everyone who was coming to see me.

Before dinner, each night I'd run inside and sit at the piano and play the show top to bottom.  I'd revise and tweak it, eat and go back outside. One night I got into bed and noticed my hands were sore from hoeing, planting, painting. And practicing.

It was down to the wire. We had one week to go before opening night. At the last minute we decided to paint the mailbox, the entrance antique pillars and the front retaining wall. I don't know why, but Tim and I barely spoke as we silently rolled on five gallons of paint. Those were happy days for us. We were coming to the end. It was here.

The day before opening night I gathered Tim, Michele (my assistant) and Jackson (my son) and we met at the entrance of the driveway. We physically walked through everything, from the moment guests would arrive and checking them in . . .  to the garden tour (and what to say), to seating everyone, to taking a group picture, to ushering everyone to the lower level (where we'd serve dessert and coffee), to finally walking guests out of the house (with a bottle of water when they'd leave). Every detail was in place. We were all excited. And super nervous.

Especially me.

It was 3:00 pm. Guests would be arriving in four hours. At the last minute, I decided to bake my Sticky Toffee Date Cake. (Was I insane?) No. I was ready.

Fans came from all over the country. Some nights up to 10 states were represented (from North Carolina to Florida, from Wyoming and Oklahoma to California). I was so touched having people come from all over the country to celebrate the evening with me in my own home. These fans weren't just "Linebackers." After doing this for 27 years, a new name came to me. 

The Super Fans.

After the concert, Jane met me at my signing table and once again tried to talk. It was the cutest thing ever. She said, "you know what I love about you Lorie? You're just like us. Plain and simple." Her sisters stood next to her and gasped and said, "she is not, Jane!" I laughed and looked at Jane, and she said, "you get it, don't you, Lorie? You know what I mean."

Yes. I do.

Plain and simple. From scraping, hoeing, painting, practicing and memorizing music and stories in my head while planting flowers in the dirt. And . . . at the last minute baking my favorite cake for my favorite people in the whole world. Fans like Jane. My Sisterhood.

I've played in many special places and for many special occasions, but nothing has been more exciting, exhilarating and meaningful in my career than playing The Living Room Series in my own home. So when people now ask me "what's the most favorite place where you have played?" I have a new answer.

My home.

Plain and simple. 

The above photo was taken at dinner a week ago on my birthday, June 20th. We took a week off and went on a cruise to Alaska. I took two naps a day.

My Sticky Toffee Date Cake was a hit. It is from Ina Garten's FOOLPROOF (purple) recipe book, page 220.

If you are coming to the August series, look for a package in the mail and an email from us end of July. See you soon!