Part 2 - 1,000 miles

I can see the Sprint Center, but I can't get to it.

Over the past week, I logged almost 1,000 miles behind the wheel of a car.

First off, what can I say about Kansas City? It was the Chief's best shows that I've seen yet.

First off, I have to say that every time I venture to this corner of the state, I'm almost always carted around in the passenger seat of a car. Friends drive me, a boss drove me, a romantic interest that fired me took me once.

It occured to me while driving that I've never actually driven in Kansas City. It turns out that I really suck at it.

I missed the exit to the Sprint Center three times in a row. It's a huge shiny building downtown...how is it possible for me to pass it so many times?

I had to do parking garages. I hate parking garages.

I curb checked more than a few times, always on the right side of the car.

Where'd that curb come from?

I severely misjudged the amount of time it would take for me to get to a parking space for the first concert. We walked in around 8:15 p.m., which is rare for this nerd. I'm never that late to Church! (He started promptly at 8:30 p.m., right after I grabbed a drink and gave up on the line for the women's restrooms.)

The two shows were the best Eric Church shows I've seen yet. He belted out Sweet Caroline, a song I've sung in so many bars throughout college and after that I lost count. (So good! So good! So good!)

Someone gave him a Kansas City Chiefs jersey, which Eric Church wore and then the crowd started to chant. Because I am a Denver Broncos person, the Chiefs chant was completely lost on me, but it was certain that Kansas City loved them some Eric Church.

Wow, Kansas City.

That was fun as hell.

We heard Creepin' both nights. We heard break up songs, make up songs, get drunk and get high and go to hell songs, go to a bar and pick up a girl and then get drunk and get high songs, and only one love song, which is all right with me for this point in my life.

It was a party up in the Sprint Center and I loved every second of it.

Who would have thought that little ol' Kansas City loved to party so much?

In other news, music helps.

Music heals.

I have so many questions, Kansas City.

Part 1 - I bought mice at Ikea.

The drama started around Christmas time.

One of my nieces, little K, was pretty sure that I was going to get her a mouse for Christmas. Specifically, the little curly-haired kid wanted a plastic mouse.

When I was in Wichita in December, I asked a group of people where I might find a toy mouse for little K. They seemed stumped. I checked farm and ranch stores, and I did not see one single toy mouse for sale.

Little K got a unicorn dress for Christmas.

Every time I've seen her since then, she asks me if I have a mouse for her. I don't know why, but she thinks that the toy mouse I supposedly bought her is in my purse.

Our conversations go something like this:

Me: "I love you. Give me a hug."

K: "You have my mousy in your purse?"

Me: "No, but I still love you and I still want a K hug."

K: "Let me see your purse. I want my mousy."

I went to Kansas City over the weekend for a couple of little concerts. Part of the Kansas City experience is going to Ikea, which is fantastic. When my Mom and I were walking around, she stopped dead in her tracks and called me over to her.

There was a little cardboard display in an aisle. There were tiny toy mice in it.

I bought four of them.

The first time we went, I saw that there were bigger mice for sale, too. I debated buying them, but I decided four little mice for three little girls was more than enough.

But then I felt really bad. This poor kid loves her a good mouse and here I am, in this city of a whole lot of people, and I was too cheap to buy her the big mice. (Or rats, whatever they were.)

Later that day, I drove back to Ikea, which is 10 miles outside of the middle of nowhere, and I marched my ass into it and bought my little niece two big mice.

It snowed on the way back, and I was slightly nervous about the drive. (It was fine and we had no problems.) As I told my Mom, if we get stuck or slide off the road, we'll have the company of six mice to keep us warm in the car.

tl;dr: I bought mice at Ikea.

---

Update: I gave the mice to the kids last night. Little K was psyched. The first thing she did when I walked in the door was inspect my coat for her mice. I tricked her! The mice were in my purse instead of my coat.

We played hard and the mice ended up on my head while three little girls laughed at me.

#auntlife

Not K, but her little sister, C. 

I just got back from Hell

I just got back from Hell

Gary Allan

I just got back from Hell
And I'm standing here alive
I know it's really hard to tell
Don't know how I survived
But I can't say that I'm doin' great
But I think I'm doin' well
That Devil's gonna have to wait
'Cause I just got back from Hell

Well, I just got back from Hell
And I guess to tell the truth
Well, I've been mad at everyone, including God and you
When you can't find no one to blame you just blame yourself
And I know I'll never be the same
I just got back from Hell

Forgive me if I had any part
If I ever broke your heart in two
Forgive me for what I didn't know
For what I didn't say or do
And, God, forgive me as well
'Cause I just got back from Hell

Well, I just got back from Hell
And I need to make some plans
It's the last thing that I wanna do
But I'll do the best I can
I'm gonna learn to live again
But I think I'll sit a spell
Tell the world that I'm alive
And I just got back from Hell

I can't say that I'm doin' great
But I think I'm gettn' well
Gonna let the world know I'm alive
And I just got back from Hell
And I just got back from Hell
I just got back from Hell
Got back from Hell

---

If I had to describe the Gary Allan concert in one word, I would call it excellent.

I wish I could describe it to people who weren't there. There are no words to explain it, though. 

You can tell when someone loves what they do and enjoys doing it. 

If a little show in nowhere Kansas can be this great, I wonder what living in Nashville must be like. 

There are no words. 

Just, wow. 

---

The thing that makes me even more excited is that we've got Church coming up in a couple of weeks. 

In the words of EC himself: "The only way I've ever fixed anything in me that's been broken in me is with music."

I know what broken feels like. My broken doesn't look like other people's broken, and for that I'm thankful. Throughout my broken, I've maintained my job, my family, my friends, my dogs and kept my house. 

But broken is broken and music helps. 

Guys, life downright sucks sometimes.

But music helps.

Other than Pugfest, I do believe that concerts are the happiest place on Earth. 

Looks like rain today

It's Gary Allan day, ya'll. 

What I'd Say

Talkin' to the mirror, whispering your name
It's just like you were here, you'd think I was insane
I hold these conversations in the silence of my room
Rehearsing all the things I'd say should I run into you

How's it goin', might be what I'd say
Well you broke my heart you know
Or it looks like rain today
Or God I've missed you
Since you went away
You're lookin' well
Or go to hell
Might be what I'd say

There's time I've been so angry
I could put my fist right through the wall
And then there's times I've come so close
To givin' you a call
I love you and I hate you
All at the same time
Then I pray you'll come back to me
Before I lose my mind

How's it goin', might be what I'd say
Well you broke my heart you know
Or it looks like rain today
Or God I've missed you
Since you went away
You're lookin' well
Or go to hell
Might be what I'd say

Or maybe, God I've missed you
Since you went away
You're lookin' well
Or go to hell
Might be what I'd say

Life in photos

Penny kisses.

Just blind dog stuff.

I had a big ass tree removed. Sweet.

Sweet dreams, Pickles.

The horsey jackets kill me every time the kids wear them.

Is this hamburger missing something?

Makin' the best of the worst day kinda night

A tweet from Ashley McBryde:

1. Don't stop. 2. Keep going. 3. They don't get to decide that for you. Rock it.

I still remember the first time I heard her song A Little Dive Bar in Dahlonega. I was in Wichita going to a doctor's appointment, and this beautiful song started playing.

I'll remember that moment forever.

I've been avoiding music as of lately (think of Bella in New Moon). I'm slowly starting to listen to it again, though.

That tweet from Ashley McBryde this morning was perfect for my mood lately.

---

A Little Dive Bar in Dahlonega

To the bag packed, first love leaver
The heart cracked, double down dreamer
The homesick for grass that's greener
And a slice of mama's peach pie

To the flat broke, couch cushion gas money
The worker bee that ain't gettin' no honey
Missin' someone all the while runnin'
Gunnin' for the brighter lights

Here's to the break ups that didn't break us
The break down, wrong turn that takes ya
To a little dive bar in Dahlonega
Hear a song from a band that saves ya, man
It's hittin' rock bottom smoke 'em if you got 'em
Nothing's going right
Makin' the best of the worst day kinda night

We've all got a number that we don't wanna drunk dial
And a good friend we ain't seen in a while
And a slow dance left in these boots
And a chance at putting down new roots

Here's to the break ups that didn't break us
The break down, wrong turn that takes ya
To a little dive bar in Dahlonega
Hear a song from a band that saves ya, man
It's hittin' rock bottom smoke 'em if you got 'em
Nothing's going right
Makin' the best of the worst day kinda night

Here's to the break ups that didn't break us
The break down, wrong turn that takes ya
To a little dive bar in Dahlonega
Meet a girl outside Atlanta, man
when it's hittin' rock bottom smoke 'em if you got 'em
Nothing's going right
You're just singing along with your drink raised
A pretty little blonde thing's looking your way
Makin' the best of the worst day kinda night
Yeah, it's making the best of the worst day kind of night

Oh
Here's to the breakups
It's that kinda night

Life is not always pretty.

I've been wondering if I should blog about the not so pretty side of life. I think I'm going to throw caution to the wind on this one and go for it. 

I took a picture in Omaha at the concert I went to. Two couples were acting affectionately towards each other, holding hands, kissing, and generally being touchy feely and grabby.

I blogged in the past about how I want a love like that. 

On this trip, I did not have a love like that. In fact, I had just watched someone walk out of my life.

After I took that picture in Omaha, I went to the bathroom and threw up. 

Life is not always pretty. 

---

I think me getting sick was a combination of things. I'm going to blame anxiety, a relationship ending, a sinus infection and a touch of the flu. All of those things hit me at once, and when I saw people around me kissing and being happy, I couldn't take it anymore. 

The funny thing is that at the concert, I knew I was going to get sick. I walked to the nearest bathrooms, and a guy told me the bathrooms were closed and that I'd have to go to another floor. 

Um, dude, have you ever tried to throw up on command before?

I rushed downstairs. I fell down the last few stairs. I made it to the bathroom in time, stood in line for a few minutes, and then did my thing. 

I ended up staying in Omaha an extra day because I was so sick I couldn't move.

(For the record, the only drink I had was a Pepsi.)

---

In that moment, I honestly did not believe that I'd ever be that girl at a concert that would be snuggling up next to someone. 

I've had that in the past. Will I have it again in the future?

I have no idea.

When my last relationship ended, I was okay with it. He didn't like to travel, so when I went to Oklahoma and was front row at a concert, I silently thanked him for dumping me. If he hadn't, I wouldn't have experienced that concert.

But this relationship was different. 

I thought to myself sitting at the concert that I'd much rather be doing absolutely nothing with him in Kansas...but that's not how life ended up. 

Instead, I drove through a winter storm by myself, went to two concerts by myself and fixed a broken headlight kind of by myself (I had some help with that one). 

I am perfectly capable of surviving and traveling on my own. 

But how much more alone can one person take?

---

One of the things I enjoyed the hell out of in Omaha was the fact that the crowd liked the break up songs the best. Specifically, they loved Over When It's Over and Record Year. 

(I swear I'm going to get a Record Year tattoo one of these days.)

I blogged about one of these songs in the past: Damn it baby, damn it.  I wrote that in 2016, after a relationship that I was in tanked. 

It drives me crazy that I'm pretty successful in life, but I have yet to be in a successful relationship. It drives me crazy that men start relationships with me and then decide one day they don't want me anymore. 

It drives me crazy that my opinion on the matter makes no difference. 

From my 2016 blog post: 

It wasn’t my choice. I didn’t even have a say in it.

Yeah it’s over

Yeah it’s over

And that’s probably the worst feeling in the world.

-----

From a 2015 blog post: Stay

I was thinking about this last night.

After my friends get married, a few months after the ceremony and reception, I always ask them how they knew they married the right person.

I'm single and prospecting, as one of my co-workers put it this morning (ha, ha). I ask my friends that question because I don't know the answer.

My oldest and best friend had my favorite answer. I remember that conversation like it happened yesterday.

We were sitting in a garage last summer, playing with dogs. I was talking about my personal life - which doesn't happen very often - and I remember specifically what she said to me on how she knew she picked the right person to marry.

"He stayed."

It's a simple answer.

All you have to do is find someone who will stay? I always thought there was some unknown magic trick to love (or something like that...).

It turns out that nope, there's no magic trick or formula.

All they have to do is stay.

Last summer, I thought that answer was bullshit. There has to be some way to know, I thought. 

I get it now. Staying is important.

One of the consequences and side effects of being human is finding a person who won't stay.

When I look at my married friends, how happy they are and how their spouses blend seamlessly into our group of friends, I have a little glimmer of hope.

Eventually, someone will stay.

Eventually.

---

I wish this blog post had a happy ending but it doesn't.

One day I was with someone and the next day I wasn't. 

One day I was planning concerts and road trips to take with him and then the next day he was no longer a part of my life.

How do you get over it? 

How long does the pain last?