NOTE: This post has been a long time coming, obviously. I started to write it months ago, then had to put it aside because everything was too raw and painful. I was only recently able to come back and revisit it. I still feel like it's rough and unfinished, but such is life. Here's my long overdue tribute to the girls.

ALICE JANE 

Alice came to me in Minneapolis when she was a year old. Her first owner, a friend of mine from work, was moving out of state and couldn't take Alice with her. I was living in a small apartment and still had Shelby and Riley at the time, so I was worried that a third cat might be a bit much. My friend was 21 years old and....not the most responsible pet owner (not judging, just saying). She informed me that if I didn't adopt Alice, she planned to "put her on Craigslist." That sealed the deal for me. I said, "Fuck that. I'm taking her."

Alice was not happy that first night. She'd been plucked from the only home she'd ever known by some random lady who stuck her in a carrier and brought her to a strange new place with two resident cats who were not exactly thrilled with this new addition to the family. After cowering in the bathroom for a few hours, Alice emerged and started hissing and spitting at me, clearly terrified. I grabbed her, scooted her into the second bedroom, and closed the door. Then I tiptoed in with some water, a bowl of food, and an extra litter box and left her in there to decompress by herself.

She lived in that second bedroom for about a week. I went in to visit with her every day after I came home from work, and I was able to get her to play with some toys and snuggle next to me. I read her The Rachel Papers (Martin Amis’s first novel, which I was re-reading for the umpteenth time) and she seemed to enjoy it. We watched some movies I'd rented from my neighborhood video store (streaming services weren't a thing yet, at least not for me), including an indie flick called Half Nelson, which we both liked.

By the time Alice was released from the second bedroom and made her official debut as a permanent member of the household, she was confident, playful, and affectionate. Although Shelby initially did the typical hissy pissy "I don't like you" thing that cats do with new siblings, she calmed down soon enough and began "allowing" Alice to groom her and even occasionally cuddled with her. Riley was pretty old and infirm by the time Alice came along, so he didn't have much of an opinion one way or another about this new cat. Still, he let her sniff him and gave her a brotherly headbutt once in a while.

Chilling on top of the kitchen cabinets in Minneapolis, 2007.

Simon Reid bought me this cat condo during our two month "relationship."

And check out my old iPod! (Minneapolis, 2008.)

Alice and her favorite teddy bear in Reno, 2013. 

Alice once broke Twitter with this photo. 

My favorite comment (from Anna Maltese): 

"I feel like this cat has called me into her office 
to ask why my productivity levels have dropped."

***********************************************************************

Riley passed away in 2008, and Shelby followed in May 2009. I was heartbroken and wanted to wait a little bit before adopting another cat. Alice, however, had different ideas. She'd gotten used to having other cats around and hated being on her own when I wasn't at home. I decided to go ahead and start looking at the Humane Society for a possible feline companion for my girl.

Enter Audrey.

AUDREY JOY 

 

Audrey started life as a stray and was found living on the streets of St. Paul. She ended up being rescued by the Woodbury Humane Society in March 2009, and two months later that's where I found her. I walked into the cat room of the shelter and immediately spotted a gregarious little patchwork tiger tabby reaching through the bars of her cage, beckoning me over. It took me about five minutes of petting and talking to her to realize that I'd found my new baby. The shelter staff told me she was approximately two years old and her name was Darby. I loved everything about her, except for that name. I decided she needed a more fitting moniker, something classic and feminine, but sassy. And so Darby became Audrey, and she came home with me the next day.

The first photo of Audrey in her new home, May 2009.

Alice wasn't exactly over the moon about this interloper. As much as she hated being alone, she was not keen on having to adjust to a new cat. (I think she was somehow hoping to get the old ones back.) It took Alice about two months to relax and embrace Audrey as a sister. When she finally accepted her, I breathed a sigh of relief. The era of "The Tabby Twins," (a.k.a. "The Minnesota Twins,") had officially begun.

Audrey was an amazing cat from the very start; a ray of sunshine in feline form. I could wax poetic about her forever, but mere words can't do her justice. You just had to know her. And everyone who knew her absolutely loved her. I always said she could make a cat lover out of anyone. And one day....she did.

Witness John's conversion:

"Hey human? Stop pretending you don’t like cats. I can see right through you."

That look says, "Yeah, I got him."

“Pfft, whatever. This human was easy.

Give me a real challenge next time.”

Audrey on his shoulder makes him happy.

"Silly human, you know you can't resist me."

And so it went. Over the years we moved our little family from Minnesota to Louisiana to Nevada to Utah to (again) Nevada and then to Texas. Alice and Audrey hated traveling but always settled in fairly quickly once we reached our destinations. 

The Minnesota twins in Utah, 2016

Along the way our quartet became a quintet when we adopted Cassie, a “cow cat” John fell in love with when he spotted her at a Petco in Reno back in 2014.

Cassie "helping" with the laundry in Reno 2018

Alice had her 14^th birthday in August 2020. She’d always been a healthy eater and a rather large lady, but I noticed her appetite had started to flag and she’d lost a little weight. In September I found a lump on one of her mammary glands and took her to the vet to get it checked out. There was talk of surgery, but first I had to get her feeling better and get her weight up, so she was prescribed a cocktail of drugs, special food, and an appetite stimulant. She started to feel better but I had a hard time putting weight on her. We decided to keep her on the meds and keep her comfortable in the short term, realizing that surgery might not be an option given her age and overall health.

I spent a lot of time with Alice those last few months. She was a one-person cat, and her person was me. She also had a PhD in cuddling, so we spent a lot of time in her favorite bed (the one in the guest room with the awesome memory foam mattress) where we snuggled and had deep philosophical conversations and watched DVDs on my laptop—including Donnie Darko, one of her favorites—as I did my best to make her comfortable and help her feel safe and loved and pampered. It occurs to me now that those last months with Alice mirrored the first weeks I had with her back when I brought her home in 2007; the two of us just hanging out, having girl time, bonding and enjoying each other’s company.

We ended up losing Alice two days after Christmas. She had an appointment the following morning for an examination at the vet, where I planned to talk to her doctor about the "quality of life" decision I would be making very soon. But that evening of the 27th she took a turn for the worse, and I knew her time was near. I held her close as her breathing became increasingly shallow....and then she was gone. It was expected, but still devastating.

In the meantime, Audrey had also begun slowing down. Instead of losing weight like Alice, she started gaining weight and getting rounder, which in turn put strain on her joints, which made her move around less, which made her pack on more weight, which put more strain on her joints, which made her even more sedentary, and so on and so on. It was a vicious cycle. I took her to the vet in February, and they ran a bunch of tests but didn’t find much wrong with her aside from a mild ear infection. They gave me drops for her ears (which she hated of course—who wouldn’t?) and sent us home.

On the morning of March 3, 2020 John was working in his office upstairs. I was in the kitchen dishing out breakfast for Audrey and Cassie when John called out, “There’s something wrong with Audrey.” I dropped everything and rushed upstairs to the cats’ bedroom. John was kneeling on the floor next to Audrey, who was lying on her side in one of her beds wheezing and gasping for air. I held up her head as John and I talked to her and struggled to figure out what was happening, trying not to panic.

It happened in less than a minute. Audrey breathed in and out a few times, then sort of faded slowly away. John and I were mute with shock. I sat on the floor for a long time holding my little tiger cat, rocking her back and forth, completely shattered. I called the vet’s office, managed to get her doctor on the phone, and described what happened. The vet said it sounded like Audrey had most likely “thrown a clot,” which is is also referred to as a pulmonary embolism, something that can happen to animals and humans alike. As horrible as it was losing Audrey so suddenly, we were at least somewhat comforted that she went quickly and (hopefully?) with minimal suffering, with John and me right there next to her.

That’s the thing about pets: if all goes well, you outlive them and are there to care for them til the very end. That’s the best case scenario. It’s unbelievably heartbreaking to lose them, but it’s the way things should be, really.

Audrey and Alice were the second “generation” of cats that I’ve owned, and if anything they were even more difficult to part with than the first. Not that I loved Alice and Audrey any more than I did Shelby and Riley; you love your cats the way you love your family, and it’s not a matter of loving any one of them more or less. It’s all the same, but it’s all different, if that makes any sense.

So after a short time as a one-cat family, we decided to add two more. This past spring we went to SPCA Texas and brought home a pair of Siamese sisters we named Stevie Nicks and Sabrina. They’re three years old and still full of that goofy young cat energy, chasing each other up and down the stairs, attacking houseplants, and chattering at the birds outside. They’ve lately become lap cats who purr appreciatively when I sing to them (favorite selections include The Doors’ “Hello, I Love You” and McCartney’s “Silly Love Songs.”) I’ll write a bit more about them sometime, but not now.

This post belongs to our Minnesota twins. Forever loved, forever missed.

Shine on you crazy diamonds.

    

   

 

Dad's second grade class photo.
Centralia, Illinois

Happy Birthday Dad

My father would have been 84 years old today. I thought I'd post a few of my favorite photos of him throughout the month. 

Dad's 40th birthday.
I was born two years later. :-)

Mom and Dad's wedding, June 1st, 1971 (on his 40th bday, see above)
They got married at a park at midnight--my Mom's idea--in Tulsa.
A friend officiated. 

Me and Dad. He's making sure I don't eat the dandelion.

Dad's birthday, a few years later (me in the background--maybe about 8 years old?)
I love this photo. And I miss our yellow 1970s kitchen.

Dad and me, crashed out in his favorite armchair.

Hanging out on the banks of Lake Michigan.
Shortly after Dad moved to Sheboygan, WI (post-divorce) to work for Kohler.

More photos to come this month. 

"Thriller"....The Playmobil version

A few words about this video....

This is not an entirely faithful recreation of the Thriller video. In fact, it's a very loose re-telling of the original Michael Jackson feature. It's French, though....what do you expect?

There is, however, a sequence where some Playmobil figures rise (awesomely) from their "graves". 

I have spoken about my love for the wonderful weirdness of Playmobil music videos in the past. Seriously, I can't get enough of this shit. In fact, if every music video was filmed using Playmobil figures, there's a real chance I might never leave the house. 

Enjoy.

HAPPY ANNIVERSARY! 

I'm writing this on September 24th (the day before our 1-year wedding anniversary!) but John and I are busy prepping for another cross-country move, so I'm getting this done now!

I can't believe it's been a year! The time has flown by. It's been a great first year. I love being married. Leos can seem quite weird and wild on the surface, but deep down we crave normality (John's words) and stability (mine). We like a good, solid partnership. We like having someone to come home to. And we are in LOVE with love. John and I are on the same page with all of that, and that's why we've had such a great first year together as a married couple. And here's to many more!

As I've mentioned before, we met in January, 2009. There was an immediate attraction straight away, but I think it's fair to say that John and I were both sort of cynical about love when we met. John had been married twice before, and I had just gone through the whole Simon Reid ordeal a mere five months earlier. Talk about dating anxiety! But we soldiered on obviously, and so here we are today. 

**************************

And since I'm relating EVERYTHING these days to my musical memories....John says that in the very beginning of our relationship, he used to listen to the Split Enz song "I Got You." It's a song about, basically, relationship paranoia.

   

I'm on a HUGE Split Enz kick right now, so I've been listening to this song quite a bit. It's a fabulous track, one of my favorites from the New Wave era. Neil does a nice bit of stage acting, particularly from 3:14 to the 3:24 mark (I'm not being facetious--he's really good).

I have a bit of a history with the Finns. Did you know?

Me and Neil after the Crowded House show in Minneapolis, 2007.

Neil signing the photo I took with him at the Guthrie in 2004.

Here's that photo. How meta!

Me with Tim at the Guthrie, 2004 *

*When I met Tim Finn after their show at the Vogue in 2005 (Indianapolis--I went with my friends Marcus and Aggie) Tim gave me a once-over and a smile. Thanks Tim! How YOU doin'?

I'm just a huge fan. The Finns have done such amazing work, as solo artists, as The Finn Brothers, in Crowded House and--of course--in Split Enz.

Here's another of my favorite Split Enz songs, Dirty Creature, (I've blogged about that one before), which also a song about paranoia. SO many Enz songs are about anxiety and paranoia. Tim has said in interviews that he used to suffer from horrible panic attacks, and that definitely reflected in the lyrics he was writing at the time.



So did I cover it all? Love, marriage, anniversary, the Finns, and Split Enz? I think I did.

I'll say it again John.....

HAPPY ANNIVERSARY!

My Special Brew

Today marks four years since I met my husband John. A look back on that day, way back in 2009 when we were all younger...

It was a typical ass-blisteringly cold night in Minneapolis. We were supposed to meet for tea at Common Roots, one of my favorite Uptown haunts. I got there early (I lived only a few blocks away) and chose a table in the middle of the cafe. I sat so I was facing the front door in order to spot John when he came in. I nursed a soy latte and read my book--I don't remember what book I had with me that night--whatever it was, I hope it was something that made me look smart (or at least interesting). After about ten minutes, the front door opened and John walked in. I recognized him right away and broke into a big wide grin. He caught my eye, waved and smiled. I just kept smiling and giggling, feeling really excited for some reason. Maybe deep down I knew this was the beginning of something great. John got a cup of English Breakfast at the counter and then headed over to where I was sitting. He was still grinning, too. It turned out to be a good night. 

Four years later, here I am sitting in bed with "the Common Roots guy" in our own apartment, typing up a post to mark this auspicious date. I love that we've become one of those couples. You know, the type that celebrates two anniversaries a year: the date when we met, and (now) our wedding anniversary (in eight months). The funny thing is, I never thought I'd be part of "one of those couples." But here we are now and I couldn't be happier. So, in honor of four years, I'm posting a song to mark the occasion. It's not your garden variety love song. It's debatable whether it could even be called a love song. I'm posting it because it's the song John sings to me every morning. It's the song that gets stuck in my head at least once a day, and it's a song that always makes me smile. I guess it's "our song", or one of them anyway (we have a few). 

Without further ado, here's Bad Manners.

 

Happy anniversary Johnny! 

Now the world knows what you sing to me in the morning. 

xoxoxo

The date was Friday, January 16, 2009. 

US Airways pilot Chelsey "Sully" Sullenberger had just made headlines the day before when he guided Flight 1549 to an emergency landing on the Hudson River. Barack Obama would be sworn in as the 44th President of the United States four days later. The Killers' new album Day and Age was in heavy rotation on my iPod (particularly track no. 3, "Spaceman"). I was fully self-employed as a massage therapist and about to complete the final edits on my first novel, Thanks, That Was Fun. But the big thing that happened on January 16, 2009 was meeting a guy called John. I had no way of knowing that the cute, charming, bearded Brit that took me out for tea and Thai food that night would one day become my husband.

Photo of me taken by John on the night of our first date.

If I could go back in time and tell the woman in the above photo three things, they would be: 

• For the love of God, quit drinking! 
• Beware of false friends (i.e. The Troll Twins).
• The guy standing in your apartment taking this photo? Hold onto him. He's a keeper.

Since time travel is not an option, I'm eternally grateful that somehow--after all the stresses and changes and bumps in the road we've weathered over the last 3+ years--John and I have managed to hang on and make everything work.

And so, 1,349 days later, John snapped this photo of me:

In our room at the Mirage on September 25, 2012, one hour before the wedding.

But backing up a little bit, this is the rest of our trip (in chronological order)...

On the plane to Vegas, September 23

We arrived in Vegas late Sunday night, grabbed our rental car and headed to the Strip. It was John's first time in Vegas and he was impressed and slightly overwhelmed by all the lights and activity. We checked into the Mirage (room 20018 -- in Numerology 2 + 0 + 0 + 1 + 8 = 11 -- I've been a bit obsessed with this number since 11/11/11). 

View from our room on the 20th floor

The next morning we grabbed breakfast and drove downtown to pick up our marriage license at the Clark County Courthouse. 

Breakfast at IHOP

We were in and out of the courthouse so quickly (Vegas is efficient with those marriage licenses) that I didn't have time to snap a photo of some of the hilarious signs posted. Luckily, I was able to find one of them online: 

Never drink and marry. 

We then headed back to the Mirage to meet Sarah, John's sister-in-law, who had flown out from England for our nuptials. Her husband (John's younger brother) Richard was supposed to be with her, but he had a pretty bad case of nerves the day before their flight (he suffers from an intense fear of flying) and was unable to make it. We were disappointed but still very happy to have Sarah there. She was funny and easy-going and I liked her right away. 

After meeting up with Sarah we walked around the casino a bit, did a little souvenir shopping, then headed out for an Italian dinner. I was beginning to feel a little bit jittery about the ceremony the next day, but I was nowhere near as nervous as I thought I'd be. We dropped off Sarah at the Luxor and went back to our hotel room early so we could both get a good night's sleep...I didn't want to wake up on my wedding day with dark circles and puffy eyes!

The next day the weather was perfect--89 degrees and sunny with low winds. I was wishing I'd remembered to bring my swimsuit because the pool at the Mirage is amazing. But, with my hair and makeup appointment at 12:30 and the limo coming to pick us up at 3:15, there wasn't much time for poolside lounging.

 View of the palm trees surrounding that gorgeous, gorgeous pool.

After breakfast, Sarah and John went down to the casino to gamble while I had my coffee, showered, made some last minute phone calls to my family and puttered around the hotel room. Elaine from Pampered Brides showed up at 12:30 sharp (another Las Vegas perk--they send makeup and hair stylists right to your room!). I wanted an updo with some loose curls but Elaine suggested a "younger" look: a Taylor Swift-ian sideswept ponytail with loose curls hanging down here and there. After I okayed it, Elaine went to work on me with a curling iron, about 87 bobby pins and a can of hairspray. I was happy with the end result, although after Elaine left I took my wide-toothed comb and a few bobby pins and tamped down the "bump" she did at the back of my crown, as it was a little too Bristol Palin for my taste. She did an excellent job on my makeup though, and I learned a valuable mascara tip: coat lashes with a regular mascara first, wait for it to dry, then go over them again with a waterproof mascara to "seal" it. (Who knew?) It worked: I teared up a bit during the ceremony but I had nary a smudge to show for it. 
  
With my hair and makeup done, I changed into my dress and John and Sarah returned to the room to get cleaned up and dressed for the wedding. I was starting to get a little jittery again, but more excited than anything else. The limo picked us up in front of the hotel at 3:15 and drove us out to the lake for the festivities. Originally the ceremony was to be held at the Always and Forever Wedding Chapel, but about two weeks before the wedding we received an email saying that there had been some massive floods in Vegas and that the Chapel was temporarily closed due to water damage. To remedy the situation, they gave us a free upgrade to their Lakeside Garden site. It was quite serendipitous: I had always wanted an outdoor wedding--preferably by the ocean--so this was the next best thing. It worked out beautifully.

When we got there we sat down with the minister and the photographer and worked out the processional. We decided that John and Sarah would be waiting for me down front and then they'd cue the music and I would walk down the aisle solo. John had asked for a civil ceremony as opposed to a Christian ceremony (we are both practicing Nichiren Buddhists) but the minister told us that, instead of reading off the book for the generic civil ceremony, it would sound more natural if he did the usual Christian spiel (which he had memorized) and just left out the religious parts. That sounded fine, so we agreed to that.  

Our wedding at Always and Forever Lakeside Gardens

I actually walked down the aisle to "Here Comes the Bride" (I don't think I've ever attended a wedding where they played that!), stood next to John and the minister began the reading. But here's the thing: he totally forgot to leave out the Christian-y parts! He went on about how God had created woman to be a companion to man and yada yada yada. I didn't mind so much, I just thought it was kind of funny. When he finished, I handed Sarah my bouquet and the minister had John and I turn and face one another for the vows. The minister said something really sweet about how out of all the millions of people in the world, John and I chose one another and we must always remember that and that's when both of us got all misty-eyed. The minister said a few other things and....then he forgot himself and repeated the exact same "millions of people" speech verbatim. John and I were still holding hands and facing one another, we both realized at about the same time that he was repeating himself. We were both staring at each other, trying not to laugh and a small part of me was panicking, hoping that he would be able to transition smoothly into the vows (he did). So we said our vows and exchanged rings, and (to my relief!) the minister remembered to read the Apache wedding blessing that we'd written down for him to say at the end. So then John and I kissed, smiled for the photographer, walked back up the aisle and we were married! It was awesome. 

Oh yeah, my wedding dress! I'd found it two months earlier at Hippie Gypsy in New Orleans. It cost a mere 48 bones. Yep, $48.00. And it was perfect.

 Hippie Gypsy. For all your wedding day needs.

 After the ceremony the limo dropped us off back at the Mirage. We were all famished, so we changed clothes and headed for the buffet, where we gorged ourselves on tacos, curry, Thai noodles, pizza, mixed veggies, mashed potatoes, egg rolls, and ice cream (it was one of those buffets that had stations set up for any and every sort of ethnic cuisine you happened to be craving). I never really got the appeal of Vegas buffets before--during my two previous trips to the Sin City I was pretty underwhelmed by the general crappiness of the buffet food--but the one at the Mirage rocked. (My extreme hunger pangs may have had something to do with the deliciousness of the food.)  

The next day (Wednesday) the three of us set out for Area 51, about 90 minutes outside Vegas. I took a lot of photos of the scenery along the way. I don't think I could live in a desert climate, but the landscape is beautiful. 

Just before we got to Area 51, we stopped at the famous Little Ale-Inn in Rachel, Nevada for lunch and more souvenirs. The manager of the Ale-Inn was very friendly and very intrigued by John and Sarah's accents. She said to me, "Now, are you also visiting from England?" I said no, I'm from Indiana originally and that John and I had just gotten married the day before, and Sarah had flown in from England for our wedding. The manager said to Sarah, "Oh, so you're the sister of the groom?" Sarah told her that no, she was John's sister-in-law. The manager looked confused and she said to me, "So...this is your sister?" I laughed and said that she was John's brother's wife. The manager said to Sarah "So, where's your husband?" and Sarah explained that he was unable to stomach the plane ride, so she ended up coming over on her own. The manager nodded, then turned to John and I and said "Well then, are you going to live in England now?" John told her no, we were currently living in Louisiana. The manager was even more confused then, and said to me, "Wait....you said you're from Indiana, right?" I told her that I was, but that John and I were living in Louisiana and, just to confuse things even more, I told her that John and I had actually met in Minnesota. At that point the manager stopped trying to piece together our weird histories and just laughed and said, "Well, congratulations on your marriage anyhow."

 John outside the Little AleInn

Sarah with the sign (and flying saucer!) out front.

After lunch and more shopping, we set out on the Extraterrestrial Highway....

....and completed our journey to Area 51, or as close as we could get to it, anyway. There aren't a lot of markers telling you where you are out there--we'd gotten a map at the AleInn--but it wasn't very detailed and it was hard to know what roads to turn on and where the "borderline" was. I sat in the backseat while John drove and Sarah navigated, worrying that that we'd inadvertently drive into the forbidden zone, where  supposedly you would be shot on sight by the military, detained indefinitely, or--at the very least--be forced to pay a $600 fine for trespassing on government land.

Luckily, the desert gods were smiling on us that day and we managed to find our way to the cut-off point: the site of the mysterious black mailbox (which was actually painted white), and, a few miles down the road, a giant sign warning that if you went beyond that point your ass belonged to the US government. Wisely, we decided not to push our luck. 

 John and me, in front of the warning sign and cut-off point.

The graffiti-covered black (white) mailbox

Of course, we had to make our mark...

...and I threw in a plug for my book.

We got in the car to head back to Vegas, but then we had to stop when we spotted the mystery car parked about a mile away from the Area 51 border. Sarah had mentioned something about an abandoned car that was rumored to be parked near the site; actually, a few different cars, always parked in the same place. Sometimes there was a red car, sometimes a white one, sometimes a gray one. This time it was an old white Pontiac, very dirty, with an expired license plate from way back in 2002! Sarah and I went over and peeked in the windows. Inside the car was an old blanket, some pine tree air fresheners, and an empty Aquafina bottle. Of course, we both dared one another to try the door handles but neither of us had the cojones to do so.

Sarah inspects the mystery car.

Tabs expired in 2002. If this car were parked on a Minneapolis side street, it would 

last all of 5 minutes before being handily whisked away to impound purgatory.

When we were done gawking at the mysterious Pontiac, we all hopped in the car and headed back to Vegas. On our way out of the desert, I had John stop so I could take one last photo for my friend Rachel.

We made it safely back to Vegas without being captured by aliens or the military. Sarah went back to her hotel room at the Luxor to rest, but John and I had to shower and start packing for home. We were catching the red eye back to Baton Rouge at midnight, but first---YES!---we had a concert to attend.

Rod!!!!  

The concert started at 7:30 so we had to hurry. After hosing off the desert funk and changing into fresh clothes, John and I ran next door to Caesar's Palace. It turned out that we were still late, as we had trouble locating the door to the Coliseum. We finally found the entrance, had our tickets scanned, and dashed up about five flights of stairs to the balcony. Inside the Coliseum, the concert was already underway. Luckily though, we were only missing the opening song--"Love Train"--a song that Rod has never even recorded (to my knowledge, anyway). I was fine with that. If I were going to miss any songs, it might as well be "Love Train." I've been to enough wedding receptions in my life, thank you. There is no need for me to hear that song ever again. 

ROD!!!

It was the eighth time I've seen him live (my first was in 1989--some of my Minneapolis friends weren't even born yet) and he did not disappoint. The man is 67 years old, but seeing him perform, you'd never guess he was over 40.

  Still rockin' the white socks and black shoes. Gotta love it.

The show was billed as Rod Stewart: The Hits so of course he did all the big ones--"Maggie May," "Forever Young," "You're In My Heart," "Tonight's the Night," "Hot Legs," "Have I Told You Lately?" "First Cut is the Deepest," "Young Turks," and--of course--"Do You Think I'm Sexy?"

 By the way, yes I do. 

The concert was John's wedding gift to me. He wasn't thrilled about going--John had lost interest around the time Rod stopped doing the seventies rocker thing (circa 1975 and Atlantic Crossing)--but he was surprised by how much he enjoyed the show. He even got misty-eyed and cuddled up to me during "Have I Told You Lately?" which was awesome. 

Oooh yeah, there's more where that came from...

Aw hell, I might as well just post all of them.

In no particular order....

"Just remember every picture tells a story, don't it?"

When the concert was over, John and I made our way back to the hotel room to grab our bags and head to the airport. Sarah was staying on until Sunday to do more sight-seeing and shopping on her own, but our flight was booked for Thursday at 12:55 a.m. As we boarded the plane we both remarked that, weirdly enough, neither of us felt tired. We were exhilarated from the concert and the Area 51 trip and the excitement that we were returning to Baton Rouge as husband and wife.

We've come a long way, baby.