Saying Yes to Crazy

My phone chimed at 1:00, Melissa's name popping up in the window.

"Interested in putting up my dear friend and her band mate tonight? They are touring through and their place just fell through. Just checking. Dawn Mitschele if you wanna look her up on FB."



I mentally went over everything I needed to do in the hour and a half between getting off work and when my friends would be arriving for First Friday. The timeline was tight. The very thought of house guests sent my heart into an anxious race.

"I'm throwing a party at my house from 6:30-10:30," I hedged. "What time and do they mind bunk beds?"

"They don't mind and let me check."

"And Legos. There are always Legos in the Ginger's bedroom." My mind flashed to the general messiness I'd hoped to seal behind a closed door that evening. It was in contrast to my ideal guest chambers.

"She could be there anytime between 4-6. Her show is at 8. Probably back around 10-ish?"

I remembered the last time Melissa sent a friend to stay with me and what an amazing couple they were.

"She's super sweet. She studied abroad with Stacy and they were roommates in San Diego."

I thought of Stacy, one of the few people I was utterly comfortable with babysitting a three-year-old Elizabeth while I was in Boston and she was staying in LA.

"Okay," I typed. At least my house was relatively clean. I calculated the time it would take to change the bedding and decided I could do it. If I hurried.

Dawn messaged me shortly thereafter. She seemed friendly and easy going, assuring me they were fine with bunk beds and Legos were a constant at her band mate's house too. I discovered they'd be playing at the Avion and Claw, a local venue I've enjoyed and was less than a mile from my house.

After I got home, I rushed around, changing bedding, doing final clean ups. My friends were boggled. "You're doing what? That's nuts! Who are they? Is this safe?"

I laughed because, once embraced, this was the sort of crazy I love.

They arrived soon after, smiles on their faces. Dawn introduced me to Lee Coulter who had come bearing the children's book he'd written. My friends and I were charmed. When they left to eat dinner before their gig, we promised we'd come down and listen to the end of their set after First Friday.


I'm so glad we did.

They are amazing musicians. Truly amazing.

After they finished, we sat outside and were treated to a couple acoustic songs. "The people over there are annoying me with their talking," I told Lee crossly. After all, we'd escaped outside to be better able to hear the music during their set.

"I'll drown them out," Lee said with confidence. I listened as their voices combined and swirled, surrounding us with the power of talent.

There have been a few times in my life when I've listened to music sung in such a way as to make my heart pause in its beat, when the sheer energy of the song has enveloped me. This was one of those times. Greedily I wished for more, but even in my five glasses of wine in state, I knew their voices must be tired.

The next day, the kids came home jealous they'd missed a sleepover. We chatted over cinnamon rolls and grain free scones. Joseph asked if they were magicians.

"No," Dawn replied, "we're musicians."

"Good. Annie's safe then," he said. I tried to work up the courage to ask them to sing for the kids, but didn't want to seem like a rabid fangirl. Instead, I promised the kids we'd listen to their CD's after they left.

Soon they were loaded up. We stood outside and waved goodbye to our new friends, feeling richer for having met them. I popped in their CD's and I smiled.

Sometimes saying yes to something insane is a very good thing.