Pippi again

It's time to confess. Forgive me Foo Fighters, Pink, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Jet, and Green Day, for I have sinned. I'm a closet country music fan.

The combination of smarmy lyrics, bad politics, and a uniformity that predominates most contemporary country offerings makes it such that most of the friends I run with (Tillamook Parents, Engineers from work, or the group of women I hang out with in Portland affectionately referred to as the "Cosmo Mafia") would likely consider themselves above the whole genre. As such, I'm fairly quiet about the pleasure I derive from listening to country music. Its embarrassing.

But when Conni who's known me for (gasp!) almost 30 years now (including those years in my 20s when I drove around in my grandfather's GMC pickup listening to the Judds and Dolly and Alan Jackson wearing cowboy boots, short skirts and long brightly colored nails as a Portland State student)* emailed and asked if I wanted to see Sara Evans playing with a couple of other performers I never heard of I readily agreed. I adore Sara Evans. Her lyrics strike a chord with me - the first song I heard of hers was "Born to Fly" the title track off a 2000 CD. Samantha was approaching two at the time and emerging from a difficult unhealthy and stressful infancy for us, into a toddler hood and bursting with determined red headed personality.

The lyrics spoke of everything I dream for my daughter (I'm such a sap!):

Yeah, 'cause I will soar away like the blackbird
I will blow in the wind like a seed
I will plant my heart in the garden of my dreams
And I will grow up where I'll wander wild and free

Oh, how do you wait for heaven
And who has that much time
And how do you keep your feet on the ground
When you know, that you were born
You were born yeah
You were born to fly

I'm precisely Evans’ target demographic. She sings for the mid-30s mama, trying to maintain some sense of sanity and fun while at the same time cherishing what we have (see? sap!). I learned at the show that she has a new album coming out next week - and she played several songs from it. One compelling reason to get the album was a song called "Mama's night out" something about take a picture honey, cause I'm looking hot - Daddy's doing the dishes cause it's mama's night out.

Last Friday night after dinner at Gustav's we headed to the show. Despite a fairly unsatisfying venue (The show was at the Rose Garden and the acoustics were awful) - Sara was darling, wonderful and charming and I loved it. When she finished her set, I was satisfied and told the others I was with we could stay or go whenever. I'd never heard any music by the next guy, Brad Paisley (my neice thinks this is the funniest part of the story. "How can you not have heard of this guy? At least that alcohol song with the lampshades?")

We got some drinks and waited for him to start. When out on stage walks this buffed cowboy in tight faded jeans singing in a deep, sexy voice this song about needing to put a ring on the finger he was wrapped around, I quickly told the rest of the group that I was staying...

oh my.
That man knows how to fill out a pair of Wranglers.


I decided I needed his CD.
Actually, screw the CD I need the calendar.

* were it not for some severe computer problems at home, I’d be scanning evidence of this that would crack you up. It might be worth checking back for updates