I'm having a record year.

The Gather Again Tour ended last night in New York City.

After every tour, I set a goal for the next one. In 2017, I wanted to go to Nashville. In 2019, I went. In 2019, I wanted Washington D.C., after talking to fans and having many, many of them tell me that I should go check out The Anthem if I was ever able to get there.

In December 2021, I went, by myself. 

I drove to the Kansas City airport, and almost chickened out when I hit the parking lot. I figured I could go back to my little town, hide out for a few days, and just lie and tell people I went.

I did not chicken out, though. 

I planned that trip pretty carefully, more carefully than I've planned any trip before. Flying across the country alone requires some advance thought, like not drinking much and being able to keep yourself alive through it.

I did drink, and I do not regret it.

I loved D.C. I love that I went by myself, I love that I walked around the listened to music, and I love that I saw that beautiful city in December, my favorite month of the year. 

--

The first show post-pandemic was in Durant, Oklahoma, in June 2021. 

I was supposed to buy a house that morning. I arranged dog care, and figured I'd sign the paperwork and be out of town at noon.

Life did not work out that way. 

I got to Durant at 8:25 p.m., and the first show in 18 months started at 8:30 p.m.

What followed that day was probably one of the worst things that happened to me, but what also followed those days were eight more concerts, seven of which were Eric Church shows. 

There's good and bad in life, and sometimes, you get to experience both of those things at the same time.

Wyoming was next on the concert list, two weeks after I injured my knee and could barely walk.

I stood in the pit line, in excruciating pain, all right, and then hobbled back to my car afterward. There was a new statue at Cheyenne Frontier Days of Chris LeDoux, a man I loved since my childhood.

I did not go see it, because I couldn't walk that far. 

I bought these tickets before my knee injury and before I got really sick. I wasn't even sure going to the rest of the shows was doable for me.

We worked through it, my body and I, along with doctors and a surgeon and other people, too. 

Not traveling is not an option in my world.

--

And then there's Denver, where Monica from Kansas and Ashley from Church happened.

All I wanted at that show was someone to share this with. A friend, family member, lover, whatever. I would have been happy if anyone had been by my side.

It turns out that you can let new people in to experience that.

Denver was the first time that I experienced the front row and waiting outside in the pit line. They were my people. 

And then there's D.C. 

Do we even need to talk about how much I loved D.C.? No, I think my love for that city speaks for itself. 

And then there's Kansas City, the best show of the tour, and Tulsa and then St. Louis. 

It was a record year.

--

Traveling sometimes comes with perils.

I hit a pothole in Missouri that led to two new tires. I smoked my brakes in Colorado and had to get them replaced, which was the first time that's ever happened to me — usually I get them replace a couple of weeks after I return to Kansas.

Oops.

It turns out that what I spent the last year doing now has a name — revenge travel.

From this website: "With these travel thoughts come extensive price tags as well as stacked vacations, as 2021 might just be the year where travelers extend their time away from home by one, two, or even three weeks or more as they get 'revenge' on all the ways that 2020 stripped them of a normal vacation."

Not only did 2020 strip me of a normal vacation, it stripped me of everything, ever. Don't even get me started of everything I lost because of 2020. 

(I lost everything I didn't need.)

Revenge travel is a thing, and I did it eight times in the past 11 months.

So here we are, halfway through 2022. We're starting over. Why am I starting over at 37 years old?

Because shit happens and sometimes you have to move, change, start over and move on, all at once.

Change is hard, but it's easier and better than staying where you're at.

--

Jojo deserves her own photo. 💛

The Gather Again Tour was about healing. It was also about letting go, moving on, meeting new people and experiencing new places. 

It was early morning airport visits, prioritizing myself, drinking with newfound friends, seeing new things and sitting on a rooftop bar in a huge city drinking with those newfound friends.

And sitting on a park bench in D.C., listening to the 10 minute version of All Too Well and deleting the past.

It's gone.

In a word, the Gather Again Tour was perfect.

Perfect.

--

My goal for the next tour is New York City. 

Washington, D.C. was a test to see if I could do a big city by myself. 

I nailed it.

Eventually, I'll get to NYC, a place I dreamed about my whole life and wanted to live in very much when I was younger. 

I know it's possible, and I'll get there, eventually. 

I always do.

I'm having a record year.

I'm learning to talk again

I've never been a huge Foo Fighters fan, but they've been growing on me this week.

In the store a few weeks ago, I saw Dave Grohl's book, The Storyteller, sitting on the shelf. I made a mental note of it, and then went on with my little life.

I kept thinking about that book, for whatever reason. Last week, I went back to that store and threw some books into my cart. 

It's perfect. 

Literally.

I love writing, and I especially love it when songwriters write about their passion. To me, it's magical to read. 

I'm not even close to being finished with the book, so you might get another 'Dave Grohl is a genius' blog post, or 12 more of them. Who knows.

Plus, yesterday I read a story online about how we bought a pit ticket to see Metallica in concert.

No backstage pass, no special treatment, and he didn't even take anybody with him. He showed up at a Metallica concert in the pit because he wanted to see them.

I like him a lot.

It's a perfect read for me at the perfect time in my life. I love good writing from normal people who aren't pretentious about their words or their life in general.

Here are my favorite quotes so far. 

---

On his daughter and her love of music: "It was clear that she had the gift. Now it was only a matter of time before she found the spark. That spark eventually became a wildfire."

-

"As I lay there staring at the ceiling, it dawned on me that maybe my guitar was the love of my life after all. Maybe I didn't need Sandi. Maybe my Silvertone could help me heal my wounded heart. Maybe I could write my way out of this mess. I was more determined than ever to make this rock and roll dream come true.

"This is perhaps the impetus behind every song that I have ever written...to guard my most vulnerable corners by using heartbreak as fuel. What could be more inspiring than the exposed nerves of a wounded heart? In a way, I cherish my numerous heartbreaks almost more than the actual love that preceded them, because the heartbreak has always proven to me that I can feel. 

"Trust me, the sweet sting of a love refused is powerful enough to send any scribe scrambling for pen and paper, aching to find beauty in the pain of being eighty-sixed by another. And more often than not, the result is good, because it's real, and it fucking hurts so bad." 

-

"This band, born from the heartbreak and tragedy of our broken past, was a celebration of love, and life, and the dedication to finding happiness in every next day. And now, more than ever, it represented healing and survival."

---

Walk

A million miles away
Your signal in the distance
To whom it may concern

I think I lost my way
Getting good at starting over
Every time that I return

I'm learning to walk again
I believe I've waited long enough
Where do I begin?

I'm learning to talk again
Can't you see I've waited long enough
Where do I begin?

Do you remember the days
We built these paper mountains
Then sat and watched them burn

I think I found my place
Can't you feel it growing stronger
Little conquerors

I'm learning to walk again
I believe I've waited long enough
Where do I begin?

I'm learning to talk again
I believe I've waited long enough
Where do I begin?
Now

For the very first time
Don't you pay no mind
Set me free again
You keep alive a moment at a time
But still inside a whisper to a riot
To sacrifice but knowing to survive
The first to climb another state of mind
I'm on my knees, I'm praying for a sign
Forever, whenever
I never wanna die
I never wanna die
I never wanna die
I'm on my knees
I never wanna die
I'm dancing on my grave
I'm running through the fight
Forever, whenever
I never wanna die
I never wanna leave
I never say goodbye
Forever, whenever
Forever, whenever

I'm learning to walk again
I believe I've waited long enough
Where do I begin?

I'm learning to talk again
Can't you see I've waited long enough
Where do I begin?

I'm learning to walk again
I believe I've waited long enough

I'm learning to talk again
Can't you see I've waited long enough

-Foo Fighters

Today was one of those days.

I went home over the weekend, unexpectedly. 

The first thing I did when I walked in the door was tell my Mom and Dad’s old dog, Carly, hi. At 16, Carly always made sure to come see me when I came home.

 

I gave her a few gentle scratches, and she went off to her own little world to sleep.

 

At 3 a.m. Sunday, I woke up and met my Mom in the living room. The reason for our meeting wasn’t good.

 

We both knew it was time.

 

When I went to leave on Sunday afternoon, I gave Carly a few more pets. I scratched her head. She was pretty happy.

 

I knew it would be the last time that I’d see her.

 

Before I left, I went to pet her one more time.

 

I told her goodbye.

 

When Carly crossed the Rainbow Bridge on Monday morning, I sent my best friend a message, letting her know.

 

My friend’s response: I’m glad Carly waited to see you first.

 

Carly did wait for me. I’m thankful for that.

 

--

 

In 2006, my family and I put one of my childhood dogs down. I was in college at the time, and it was the first time that I had ever put a dog to sleep.

 

I had that dog since I was 8, and I was a wreck.

 

I cried every single night for weeks. One night, my parents came downstairs and asked me what would make me feel better.

 

I told them a puppy.

 

The next day, my Mom called me at work. She told me to come home after work because I had to meet someone.

 

And that’s how I met little Carly Sue.

 

Carly was the cutest thing I’d ever seen. She was a mutt, part Corgi and part Heeler.

She was basically a Corgi with long, freckly legs.

 

Carly was tiny, and Carly hated people. She loved our other big dog, a Collie named Socks. But for the longest time, Carly hated everyone.

 

I took her downstairs and held her for an entire episode of Law & Order. Carly never once looked at me for that hour. She looked at the ceiling, at the walls, at the television, but never once at me.

 

Carly! I remember thinking that she’d be a whole lot cuter if she just liked people more. (Her personality never really changed.)

 

When my best friend came over and asked to see our new puppy, we told her sure, if you can catch her.

 

We caught Carly by throwing a laundry basket over her in the backyard.

 

She was mostly attached to other dogs, but eventually, she warmed up to us.

 

I remember my Dad and I took her to a nearby lake one winter day. There was still ice in the center of the lake, and my Dad and I were looking the view, talking with each other. We weren’t paying much attention to Carly, who was snooping around.

 

Carly jumped in the lake.

 

I asked my Dad if she could swim. He said he hoped so, because he didn’t want to jump in the freezing lake to get her.

 

She doggy paddled her little heart out, and to my knowledge, Carly never jumped in water again. (Too cold.)

 

Carly loved other dogs. She loved Penny, my old dog who is still around, and she loved Chief, my aunt’s old dog. For her entire life, Carly always had a Collie with her. When we took her and the Collies walking, people would stop and make fun of her.

 

They called her a Collie wannabe. A groupie, if you will.

 

She didn’t really care if the other dog was big or little, she just loved being around other dogs. I don’t know how many photos of Carly and Penny we have together, snuggled up and sleeping together.

She also loved Jasper, who crossed the Rainbow Bridge last year.

 

You can have 16 good years with a dog, full of tail wags, kisses and snuggles, walks and belly rubs and romps in the snow, and then one bad day comes along, turns your life upside down and completely wrecks your soul forever.

 

Today was one of those days.

 

In our family, we grieve the loss, and then we stop to remember that it is possible to love again. I think some people get so upset at the thought of putting another dog down that they vow to never have another pet again.

 

In our family, we learn to love again. We do eventually get another dog, and we learn to trust new beginnings and accept someone new into our life.

 

I think we just need to wake up to a dog’s love at our feet. I’ve had that my entire life, and I’ll have that forever.

 

What Carly loved most of all was other dogs, and I hope she’s surrounded by all her friends who passed before her.

 

Goodbye, Carly. You were a perfect, feisty little dog.

 

We love you.

Every time.

 

Horrible.

Of the things that I love most in life, music and Nashville are pretty much in the top of the list.

Exactly 10 days ago, I got en email in my inbox from the Country Music Hall of Fame. I skimmed through it, and noted in my head that the museum was going to be closed one day for an induction ceremony.

I read that the Judds were on the list of people who were going to be recognized at the event. I recognized that name and thought it was pretty cool to honor them. 

A couple of days ago, I read a weird headline about Naomi Judd’s death. It didn’t give details, but her daughter’s social media post did.

She lost her battle with mental illness, the post said.

And then my heart broke into tiny little pieces.

I’ve read a ton of comments online, on Twitter, news sites, Tik Tok. Some are supportive, but most just criticize Ashley and Wynonna’s appearance, a day after their mom took her own life, when both women were brave enough to go to the Hall of Face induction ceremony.

Because that’s what matters right now, right? What these two grieving women look like?

This is horrible for country music fans, and it’s a really dark time for the music world in general.

I’ve read a lot of comments about depression. Some people get it, others don’t. 

How can someone so successful, so rich, and so well known be depressed? Doesn’t she have everything to live for? 

Money? Fame? Talent?

The answer that I always tell people, and that I’ve heard throughout my life, is this: depression doesn’t care what your last name is or how much money is in your bank account. 

It doesn’t care if you have a cool job or fancy cars. 

Depression is a disease, just like cancer is. And like cancer, it doesn’t ask your permission to enter your life or wreck your life.

After someone takes their own life, there’s a group of people who push mental illness awareness, which definitely is not a bad thing.

But you can’t push out the message that people should ask for help while also criticizing someone who didn’t ask for help and then did dumb mental illness related things.

Like the woman once married to a famous man who has everyone glued to their television and trial right now.

It blows my mind that people aren’t recognizing what mental illness looks like.

It looks like a normal person, because normal people have these illnesses. 

Even attractive people.

You can’t want to save one mentally ill person and condemn the other.

It’s been a weird couple of days. It’s weird that people are talking about this right now, and it’s weird that this conversation will likely fizzle out until the next tragic thing happens in the world. 

Horrible is the only word that I can come up with right now. 

And as her daughter put it: I’m sorry she couldn’t hold on one more day to be here.

What a beautiful soul. 

As another commenter said: I hope she rests in peace. Finally.