Many, many things.

1.  It didn’t rain!  Huge thanks to all of you for using your collective energies to keep me dry.  Now, perhaps we could all get together and get me my own personal island?

2. I screamed.  Many, many times.  Chris said it was like the Beatles were landing.  Over and over and over.

3.  G. played my three favorite songs within the first ten minutes. Random coincidence?  I. Don’t. Think. So.

4.  I was a singing, dancing machine.  I’m sure by the third song the people next to us just wanted me to shut up and go home but I was having my own private Woodstock. I even at one point had to stop myself from hugging the people next to us, I was that excited.  I didn’t, thank God.  But I came frighteningly close.

5.  I didn’t meet him.  Disappointing?  Yes.  Redeemed by the fact this found its way into my inbox?  Absolutely.

As my friend littlegirlbigglasses said, it’s like he’s saying, “Let’s mix DNA and then I’ll make you some waffles.” And that really is the perfect end to this story, is it not?

This stuck-in-the-houseness coupled with the fact that it is raining (something we don’t cotton to here in Colorado) has made me a bit, I don’t know, insane?  To top it all off, we’re supposed to see The One, My Only, G.Love tonight at the very outdoor venue, Red Rocks.  And now I will have to stand in the rain and possibly ruin my hair and then G. will not notice that I am in fact the coolest woman in the audience, even though I also happen to be the only one sensible enough to wear a raincoat.

I’m sure at this point you are thinking, “This is all a tad dramatic, Kara, and if you are one thing, it is not dramatic.”  So, I’ll lay it out on the table.  I love G. Love.  Anyone who has known me for longer than a minute can attest to this and tell you that I heart him, adore him, am mad about him.  Why, you ask?  Because every party I have thrown has IMMEDIATELY revved up as soon as I toss him the CD player.  Because he combines funk, blues and rap and it comes out all hip and wonderful.  Because how can you not love a songwriter who writes lyrics like, “the back of the bus is a make-out session/ she’s got the salad and I got the dressin’.”

Now several years ago one of my dear friends and I actually met Mr. Love, in person.  We snagged VIP tickets to a private concert he was giving and by the end of the night had worked our way up to the front of the stage.  When, in a moment I can only describe as inspired, several girls jumped up on stage and started gyrating with the bass player.  Quicker than you can say “no shame,” my friend and I were also up on stage, dancing around G. Love and, of course, gyrating with the bass player.

I was having the time of my life until I saw a group of bouncers walking towards us. Certain we were going to get reprimanded or ticketed or at very least, thrown off the stage, you can imagine my surprise when, instead, they asked us if we wanted to go backstage for a private party.  At that moment I knew everything my parents had diligently taught me about following the rules and being a good girl was absolutely, completely, dead wrong.  I was going to be a groupie.

They took a gaggle of us backstage and we all casually surveyed the competition while acting coolly indifferent to the fact that WE WERE BACKSTAGE AT G. LOVE’S CONCERT!!!!!  Finally, it was my turn to approach G.  I knew I had only a few brief moments to convey to him that I was the one who would change it all for him.  That I wasn’t just a backstage girl, but dare I say, the salad to his dressing?

And I’d like to tell you, dear readers, that this was the moment the room spun and the fog machine started pumping because of all the love (or at the very least, lust) that was sweeping through the room.  That this was the moment I Became A Groupie.  Unfortunately, it didn’t quite work out that way.  I’m not sure what it was, but it may have had something to do with the fact that I chose to tell G. Love that, and I quote, “I am really, really proud of you”.

I’ll let that settle in for a moment.

I didn’t say, “Your music inspires me.”  I didn’t say, “You’re hot.”  I didn’t even say nothing.  Instead, I told G. Love that I WAS PROUD OF HIM.  Because he had played a really good set.  Thank you, Grandma Kara.  Here are your dentures and cardigan.  Now go back to your Jeopardy.

So, tonight was going to be my moment of redemption.  The night where we’d make eye contact through the crowd and he’d pull me up on stage and I’d tell him that, of course, that comment was meant to be ironic  and then we’d laugh and we’d become great friends and he’d introduce me to Jack Johnson and Ben Harper and then we’d all be great friends and save the world through song and dance (oh, and Chris would help too, of course).

And that is going to be a bit tough to do if he is distracted by rain and umbrellas and wet t-shirts. So now you can understand why I really, really need it to stop raining.  Here in Colorado and while we’re at it, let’s use our collective energies to stop the storm in Texas.  Rather than a rain dance, let’s do a sun dance and… What’s this? Why, I happen to have the perfect soundtrack for it, right here.  Enjoy.  I’ll let you all know how it goes.

John Butler Trio and Tristan Perryman are also playing with him.  Take a listen and let me know what you think!