Ten years ago tonight - and probably about this time too! - I was in a little bar in Parkersburg, WV where I'd gone to see a really excellent band called Jimmy Clinton and His Mean Red Spiders, when I got a drink sent to me (for the first time in my life, no less) by attractive young woman in glasses and a black pleather skirt. Turns out she'd seen me play a couple of times in the same place, where in those days I was hosting an open mic on Tuesday nights and performing my first round of off-color folksongs.* We talked a bit, and she asked me, "If I give you my number, will you call?" And because I am a sucker for women in glasses, I said Yes, and she wrote it on a cocktail napkin, and I did.
She's asleep upstairs now, in the house we own together. We have a dog and a cat and a collection of DVDs and neither of us is working retail any more. If you'd have told me then that this would be the outcome of that first night, I might not have believed you.
It's been a good ten years. Strange and sometimes trying, as life often is, but good. I marvel still that she's stuck around this long; I am, when all's weighed, an extraordinarily fortunate guy.
Here's to many more decades to come.
*See, kids? Being a musician really will get you laid.