The one when I was a groupie. Or a bumbling idiot. Or both.

My sister asked me on the phone the other day if I had any intention of ever blogging again. It hasn't been THAT long... like a week maybe. I don't know. But in truth there is much that I could have blogged about and haven't. So today you get this story:

Last weekend my husband and I went to see William Joseph in concert. He's a classical pianist/composer/throw a little bit of rock and high intensity in to your playing kind of performer. It's an added bonus to know that he also happens to be a Mormon. Not because I only enjoy the music of people that share my faith, but because it's nice supporting someone that you know in between shows is calling home to his wife and three kids, and not blowing your hard earned money on something much less respectable. He's really quite exceptional and Josh and I both found the concert to be hugely entertaining. And since before the concert we ate some of the BEST Italian food I've ever had, and there are few things in life that make me happier than good food, it was all in all a very good night.

Now, I've been aware of William Joseph's music for the past few years. He opened up a Christmas show for another performer that I've seen in concert once or twice, or six times. I signed up to get emails from his website if he ever performed in my area. I got the email, and so we went to the show. But 'm not a groupie. I feel fairly confident in declaring this because I have been a groupie in the past for someone else. I'm familiar with the level of dedication that is involved. So we go to the show, and I am level headed and calm and I clap politely. I do not throw anything on stage or scream, "I love you William!!" like I have for Clay Aiken. Since Josh and I were one of maybe ten people in the entire auditorium that were younger than 65 (we drove a short distance to the concert to a town that must be the retirement capitol of the south. I've never seen so many perfectly set, short, fluffy hairdos), I'm glad I didn't behave in this way. I'm pretty sure it would have been very disturbing to those sitting around us.

But then, at the end of the concert, Mr. Piano Man tells everyone that he would love to meet us all and will be in the lobby if we would like to stay around and shake his hand. So of course we wanted to stay and meet him. Who wouldn't want to shake the hand of the man that could play the theme song to fraggle rock when he was two? And because he was a little bit cute. But I didn't say that out loud, as I stood politely beside my dear sweet wonderful husband.

So after the concert we took our programs and headed out to the lobby, where after waiting patiently in a long line of very old people, we had the opportunity to shake William Joseph's hand and speak to him for a few minutes. I tried to be polite. I tried to be nice. I asked him a question about pianos, he signed my program, we took a picture, and then we left.

My husband was laughing at me. I asked him why. He says, "You know, it's really funny watching you get all twitter patted over another man..."

I was not twitter patted! Or I was. A little bit. Or a lot. But I've never met anyone even a little bit famous, and he was right there in front of me, and did I mention that he was a little bit cute? Or maybe it was a lot cute. But still not as cute as my husband.

When Josh recounted the things I said, that I had apparently forgotten about, I began to be astonished (two points to whoever tells me what that line comes from) at my own silliness. It's a well known fact that I combat nervousness with words. Lots and lots of misguided, totally random words that come from some overflowing center in my brain, scrambling to get out of my mouth and land on some unsuspecting victim... in this case, a very talented piano player who may decide that in order to avoid the crazy woman with the cell phone, he need never play in this area of the country again.

Josh is still laughing at me, good sport that he is. And this is the picture taken with my cell phone. Notice that Josh isn't in the picture. Because his oh, so sweet wife made him TAKE the picture of her with the nice piano player. I know. Sweet of me, huh?



And now for your viewing pleasure: