Sweetest Thing

It's a good thing that a lack of voice in no way hampers one's ability to type.

(Yes...still reading Regency romance novels.)

Why, you may ask, is my voice as hoarse and throaty as a 1920's lounge singer?  Two words:  Keith. Urban.

Ensue giggles, goosebumps and heart palpitations.

Last night, Danielle, Sarah and I bought our $13 adult beverages and entered the main arena at the fair grounds.  An hour later we were on our feet screaming and clapping until our palms were red and our throats were on fire.

It was an amazing concert.  And we only got "talked to" by security three times!

Keith is...romantic, soulful, talented, rock star studly and...a helluva entertainer.  (Because I know him so well.)  At one point, he hopped down from the stage and sang as he made his way through the floor seats only to jump up on a platform in front of the back grandstand bleachers.

And we loved him.

And, we like to think, he loved us.  Maybe not with the same type of love he reserves for Nicole. (Jealous, jealous, jealous.)  But love, nonetheless.

Our original seats were...not for short girls.  The tall cowboys standing in front of us made it nearly impossible to see.  So, using Melissa's tried and true seat surfing method, we slowly made our way to the front.  We landed in a row by a large aisle and spent the rest of the night rocking out.

During his final encore, Keith told security to lighten up - and really someone needed to tell them that.  En masse, the crowd rushed the stage and I learned, first hand, why it's always helpful to have an East Coast girl in your group.

Because East Coast girls don't say, "I beg your pardon" and allow others to crowd in front of her group.  East Coast girls leap over chairs, dodge under arms and reach back, grabbing on to her friend's hand and pulls her past towering cowboys, drunken college girls and...umm...matronly matrons.  East Coast girls jump up on the chairs and shoots dirty looks at the older man behind her, trying to push her down.  East Coast girls tell the crazy chickies standing on the chairs in front of her to move to the side.  East Coast girls, Sarah in particular, rock.

We left the concert as giddy as schoolgirls after a Bieber concert.  Trust me, that's giddy.  We walked on sunshine back to the car, got in and drove home.  We burst into the house, a tiny, flushed flock of giggling geese, chattering chicks, women in love.  We told our stories of the night to Adam and Chad who looked at us with amused smiles on their faces - even when we dreamily talked of Keith's biceps.

*sigh*  I guess I'm too old to put a poster on my bedroom wall?