That's right, last night was date night with Harry Connick, Jr. And to think we are too old to be groupies, HA, what was I thinking? In this town, being in your late 30s is like just turning 21. Well, except for the kids and the mortgage responsibilities and the yard work and the having to be at the office at specific time... but, ya know, other than that... definitely 21, definitely.
We dropped the Notorious MRA off at our neighbor's house and thank goodness she agreed to watch him as we were out of babysitter options. MRA, appears (at least in the photos) she sent us, to have been quite a little gentleman.
I know it didn't go down quite like this but, looking at the pictures, I can just imagine this little conversation:
Move over baby.
Sure, let me help.
You're kinda cute.
So are you. Wanna head to the park?
So, with the Notorious MRA safe and sound, Jonathan and I were free to enjoy the night.
Harry, as always, put on a great performance. I have seen him in several different type venues and no matter if it was under a tent, in an amphitheater, or before tens of thousands at JazzFest, his shows are always personal and you always feel like you are watching him play in a small venue.
The crowd, however, was lame. Everyone remained sitting, in fact, you did not even see people swaying in their seats. Of course, we were among some of the youngest there.
Thanks to the divine Brian M., we had after show passes.
I tried to be the cutest pregnant chick ever, but was ultimately too shy to go for a kiss.
Turns out that being nearly 40 and backstage is not much different from being 25 and backstage, at least for me. What this means is that I stand around not knowing what to say and then meet the performer and leave. No wild stories for me.
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